is return, and
concerning amusements at Stormfield for the entertainment of the
neighbors, and for the benefit of the library which he had founded
soon after his arrival in Redding. In these letters he seldom
mentioned the angina pains that had tortured him earlier. But once,
when he sent a small photograph of himself, it seemed to us that his
face had become thin and that he had suffered. Certainly his next
letter was not reassuring.

*****

To A. B. Paine, in Redding:

DEAR PAINE,--We must look into the magic-lantern business. Maybe the
modern lantern is too elaborate and troublesome for back-settlement use,
but we can inquire. We must have some kind of a show at "Stormfield" to
entertain the countryside with.

We are booked to sail in the "Bermudian" April 23rd, but don't tell
anybody, I don't want it known. I may have to go sooner if the pain in
my breast doesn't mend its ways pretty considerably. I don't want to
die here for this is an unkind place for a person in that condition.
I should have to lie in the undertaker's cellar until the ship would
remove me and it is dark down there and unpleasant.

The Colliers will meet me on the pier and I may stay with them a week or
two before going home. It all depends on the breast pain--I don't want
to die there. I am growing more and more particular about the place.

With love,
S. L. C.

This letter had been written by the hand of his "secretary," Helen
Allen: writing had become an effort to him. Yet we did not suspect
how rapidly the end was approaching and only grew vaguely alarmed.
A week later, however, it became evident that his condition was
critical.

DEAR PAINE,--.... I have been having a most uncomfortable time for the
past 4 days with that breast-pain, which turns out to be an affection of
the heart, just as I originally suspected. The news from New York is
to the effect that non-bronchial weather has arrived there at last,
therefore if I can get my breast trouble in traveling condition I may
sail for home a week or two earlier than has heretofore been proposed:

Yours as ever
S. L. CLEMENS,
(per H. S. A.)

In this letter he seems to have forgotten that his trouble had been
pronounced an affection of the heart