is diligently
laying up material for a letter to her.

Yrs ever
MARK.

The "George" of this letter was Mark Twain's colored butler, a
valued and even beloved member of the household--a most picturesque
character, who "one day came to wash windows," as Clemens used to
say, "and remained eighteen years." The fiction of Mrs. Clemens's
severity he always found amusing, because of its entire contrast
with the reality of her gentle heart.

Clemens carried the Tom Sawyer MS. to Boston himself and placed it
in Howells's hands. Howells had begged to be allowed to see the
story, and Mrs. Clemens was especially anxious that he should do so.
She had doubts as to certain portions of it, and had the fullest
faith in Howells's opinion.

It was a gratifying one when it came. Howells wrote: "I finished
reading Tom Sawyer a week ago, sitting up till one A.M. to get to
the end, simply because it was impossible to leave off. It's
altogether the best boy's story I ever read. It will be an immense
success. But I think you ought to treat it explicitly as a boy's
story. Grown-ups will enjoy it just as much if you do; and if you
should put it forth as a study of boy character from the grown-up
point of view, you give the wrong key to it.... The adventures
are enchanting. I wish I had been on that island. The
treasure-hunting, the loss in the cave--it's all exciting and
splendid. I shouldn't think of publishing this story serially.
Give me a hint when it's to be out, and I'll start the sheep to
jumping in the right places"--meaning that he would have an advance
review ready for publication in the Atlantic, which was a leader of
criticism in America.

Mark Twain was writing a great deal at this time. Howells was
always urging him to send something to the Atlantic, declaring a
willingness to have his name appear every month in their pages, and
Clemens was generally contributing some story or sketch. The
"proof" referred to in the next letter was of one of these articles.

*****

To W. D. Howells, in Boston:

HARTFORD, Nov. 23, '75.

MY DEAR HOWELLS,--Herewith is the proof. In spite of myself, how
awkwardly I do jumble