night-hawks,) had a blow-out at Dan's' house and a lively
talk over old times. We went through the Holy Land together, and I just
laughed till my sides ached, at some of our reminiscences. It was the
unholiest gang that ever cavorted through Palestine, but those are
the best boys in the world. We needed Moulton badly. I started to make
calls, New Year's Day, but I anchored for the day at the first house I
came to--Charlie Langdon's sister was there (beautiful girl,) and Miss
Alice Hooker, another beautiful girl, a niece of Henry Ward Beecher's.
We sent the old folks home early, with instructions not to send the
carriage till midnight, and then I just staid there and worried the life
out of those girls. I am going to spend a few days with the Langdon's in
Elmira, New York, as soon as I get time, and a few days at Mrs. Hooker's
in Hartford, Conn., shortly.

Henry Ward Beecher sent for me last Sunday to come over and dine (he
lives in Brooklyn, you know,) and I went. Harriet Beecher Stowe was
there, and Mrs. and Miss Beecher, Mrs. Hooker and my old Quaker City
favorite, Emma Beach.

We had a very gay time, if it was Sunday. I expect I told more lies than
I have told before in a month.

I went back by invitation, after the evening service, and finished
the blow-out, and then staid all night at Mr. Beach's. Henry Ward is a
brick.

I found out at 10 o'clock, last night, that I was to lecture tomorrow
evening and so you must be aware that I have been working like sin all
night to get a lecture written. I have finished it, I call it "Frozen
Truth." It is a little top-heavy, though, because there is more truth in
the title than there is in the lecture.

But thunder, I mustn't sit here writing all day, with so much business
before me.

Good by, and kind regards to all.

Yrs affy
SAM L. CLEMENS.

Jack Van Nostrand of this letter is "Jack" of the Innocents. Emma
Beach was the daughter of Moses S. Beach, of the 'New York Sun.'
Later she became the wife of the well-known painter, Abbot H.
Thayer.

We do not hear of Miss Langdon again in the letters of that time,
but it was not because she was absent from his thoughts. He had
first seen her with her father and brother at the old St. Nicholas
Hotel, on lower Broadway, where, soon after the arrival of the
Quaker City in New York, he had been invited to dine. Long