words together; and how often I do use three words
where one would answer--a thing I am always trying to guard against. I
shall become as slovenly a writer as Charles Francis Adams, if I don't
look out. (That is said in jest; because of course I do not seriously
fear getting so bad as that. I never shall drop so far toward his and
Bret Harte's level as to catch myself saying "It must have been wiser to
have believed that he might have accomplished it if he could have felt
that he would have been supported by those who should have &c. &c. &c.")
The reference to Bret Harte reminds me that I often accuse him of being
a deliberate imitator of Dickens; and this in turn reminds me that I
have charged unconscious plagiarism upon Charley Warner; and this in
turn reminds me that I have been delighting my soul for two weeks over a
bran new and ingenious way of beginning a novel--and behold, all at once
it flashes upon me that Charley Warner originated the idea 3 years ago
and told me about it! Aha! So much for self-righteousness! I am well
repaid. Here are 108 pages of MS, new and clean, lying disgraced in
the waste paper basket, and I am beginning the novel over again in an
unstolen way. I would not wonder if I am the worst literary thief in the
world, without knowing it.

It is glorious news that you like Tom Sawyer so well. I mean to see to
it that your review of it shall have plenty of time to appear before the
other notices. Mrs. Clemens decides with you that the book should issue
as a book for boys, pure and simple--and so do I. It is surely the
correct idea. As to that last chapter, I think of just leaving it off
and adding nothing in its place. Something told me that the book was
done when I got to that point--and so the strong temptation to put
Huck's life at the Widow's into detail, instead of generalizing it in
a paragraph was resisted. Just send Sawyer to me by express--I enclose
money for it. If it should get lost it will be no great matter.

Company interfered last night, and so "Private Theatricals" goes over
till this evening, to be read aloud. Mrs. Clemens is mad, but the story
will take that all out. This is going to be a splendid winter night for
fireside reading, anyway.

I am almost at a dead stand-still with my new story, on account of the
misery of having to do it all over again. We--all send love to you--all. Yrs ever
MARK.

The