id not know when
I would get started down the river again....

You see, Aunt Betsey, I made but one trip on the packet after you left,
and then concluded to remain at home awhile. I have just discovered this
morning that I am to go to New Orleans on the "Col. Chambers"--fine,
light-draught, swift-running passenger steamer--all modern
accommodations and improvements--through with dispatch--for freight
or passage apply on board, or to--but--I have forgotten the agent's
name--however, it makes no difference--and as I was saying, or had
intended to say, Aunt Betsey, probably, if you are ready to come up, you
had better take the "Ben Lewis," the best boat in the packet line. She
will be at Cape Girardeau at noon on Saturday (day after tomorrow,)
and will reach here at breakfast time, Sunday. If Mr. Hamilton is chief
clerk,--very well, I am slightly acquainted with him. And if Messrs.
Carter Gray and Dean Somebody (I have forgotten his other name,) are in
the pilot-house--very well again-I am acquainted with them. Just tell
Mr. Gray, Aunt Betsey--that I wish him to place himself at your command.

All the family are well--except myself--I am in a bad way
again--disease, Love, in its most malignant form. Hopes are entertained
of my recovery, however. At the dinner table--excellent symptom--I am
still as "terrible as an army with banners."

Aunt Betsey--the wickedness of this world--but I haven't time to
moralize this morning.

Goodbye

SAM CLEMENS.

As we do not hear of this "attack" again, the recovery was probably
prompt. His letters are not frequent enough for us to keep track of
his boats, but we know that he was associated with Bixby from time
to time, and now and again with one of the Bowen boys, his old
Hannibal schoolmates. He was reveling in the river life, the ease
and distinction and romance of it. No other life would ever suit
him as well. He was at the age to enjoy just what it brought him
--at the airy, golden, overweening age of youth.

To Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Iowa:

ST. LOUIS, Mch. 1860.

MY DEAR BRO.,--Your last has just come to hand. It reminds me strongly
of Tom Hood's letters to his family, (which I have been reading lately).
But yours only remind me of his, for although there is a striking
likeness, your humour is much finer than