HAMILTON, March 12.

DEAR PROFESSOR PHELPS,--I thank you ever so much for the
book--[Professor Phelps's Essays on Modern Novelists.]--which I find
charming--so charming indeed, that I read it through in a single night,
and did not regret the lost night's sleep. I am glad if I deserve
what you have said about me: and even if I don't I am proud and well
contented, since you think I deserve it.

Yes, I saw Prof. Lounsbury, and had a most pleasant time with him. He
ought to have staid longer in this little paradise--partly for his own
sake, but mainly for mine.

I knew my poor Jean had written you. I shall not have so dear and sweet
a secretary again.

Good health to you, and all good fortune attend you.

Sincerely yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.

He would appear to have written not many letters besides those to
Mrs. Gabrilowitsch and to Stormfield, but when a little girl sent
him a report of a dream, inspired by reading The Prince and the
Pauper, he took the time and trouble to acknowledge it, realizing,
no doubt, that a line from him would give the child happiness.

*****

To Miss Sulamith, in New York:

"BAY HOUSE," BERMUDA, March 21, 1910.

DEAR MISS SULAMITH,--I think it is a remarkable dream for a girl of
13 to have dreamed, in fact for a person of any age to have dreamed,
because it moves by regular grade and sequence from the beginning to the
end, which is not the habit of dreams. I think your report of it is a
good piece of work, a clear and effective statement of the vision.

I am glad to know you like the "Prince and the Pauper" so well and I
believe with you that the dream is good evidence of that liking. I think
I may say, with your sister that I like myself best when I am serious.

Sincerely yours,
S. L. CLEMENS.

Through February, and most of March, letters and reports from him
were about the same. He had begun to plan for his 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,