第168章

I notice one thing--which one may notice also in my books, and in all books whether written by man or God: trifling carelessness of statement or Expression.If I think that you meant that she took the lizard from the water which she had drawn from the well, it is evidence--it is almost proof--that your words were not as clear as they should have been.True, it is only a trifling thing; but so is mist on a mirror.I would have hung the pail on Ariadne's arm.You did not deceive me when you said that she carried it under her arm, for I knew she didn't; still it was not your right to mar my enjoyment of the graceful picture.If the pail had been a portfolio, I wouldn't be making these remarks.The engraver of a fine picture revises, and revises, and revises -and then revises, and revises, and revises; and then repeats.And always the charm of that picture grows, under his hand.It was good enough before--told its story, and was beautiful.True: and a lovely girl is lovely, with freckles; but she isn't at her level best with them.

This is not hypercriticism; you have had training enough to know that.

So much concerning exactness of statement.In that other not-small matter--selection of the exact single word--you are hard to catch.

Still, I should hold that Mrs.Walker considered that there was no occasion for concealment; that "motive" implied a deeper mental search than she expended on the matter; that it doesn't reflect the attitude of her mind with precision.Is this hypercriticism? I shan't dispute it.

I only say, that if Mrs.Walker didn't go so far as to have a motive, Ihad to suggest that when a word is so near the right one that a body can't quite tell whether it is or isn't, it's good politics to strike it out and go for the Thesaurus.That's all.Motive may stand; but you have allowed a snake to scream, and I will not concede that that was the best word.

I do not apologize for saying these things, for they are not said in the speck-hunting spirit, but in the spirit of want-to-help-if-I-can.They would be useful to me if said to me once a month, they may be useful to you, said once.

I save the other stories for my real vacation--which is nine months long, to my sorrow.I thank you again.

Truly Yours S.L.CLEMENS.

In the next letter we get a sidelight on the type-setting machine, the Frankenstein monster that was draining their substance and holding out false hopes of relief and golden return.The program here outlined was one that would continue for several years yet, with the end always in sight, but never quite attained.

To Orion Clemens, in Keokuk, Ia.:

Oct.3, '88.

Private Saturday 29th, by a closely calculated estimate, there were 85 days' work to do on the machine.

We can use 4 men, but not constantly.If they could work constantly it would complete the machine in 21 days, of course.They will all be on hand and under wages, and each will get in all the work there is opportunity for, but by how much they can reduce the 85 days toward the 21 days, nobody can tell.

To-day I pay Pratt & Whitney $10,000.This squares back indebtedness and everything to date.They began about May or April or March 1886--along there somewhere, and have always kept from a dozen to two dozen master-hands on the machine.

That outgo is done; 4 men for a month or two will close up that leak and caulk it.Work on the patents is also kind of drawing toward a conclusion.

Love to you both.All well here.

And give our love to Ma if she can get the idea.

SAM.

Mark Twain that year was working pretty steadily on 'The Yankee at King Arthur's Court', a book which he had begun two years before.

He had published nothing since the Huck Finn story, and his company was badly in need of a new book by an author of distinction.Also it was highly desirable to earn money for himself; wherefore he set to work to finish the Yankee story.He had worked pretty steadily that summer in his Elmira study, but on his return to Hartford found a good deal of confusion in the house, so went over to Twichell's, where carpenter work was in progress.He seems to have worked there successfully, though what improvement of conditions he found in that numerous, lively household, over those at home it would be difficult to say.

To Theodore W.Crane, at Quarry Farm, Elmira, N.Y.

Friday, Oct.,5, '88.

DEAR THEO,--I am here in Twichell's house at work, with the noise of the children and an army of carpenters to help.Of course they don't help, but neither do they hinder.It's like a boiler-factory for racket, and in nailing a wooden ceiling onto the room under me the hammering tickles my feet amazingly sometimes, and jars my table a good deal; but I never am conscious of the racket at all, and I move my feet into position of relief without knowing when I do it.I began here Monday morning, and have done eighty pages since.I was so tired last night that I thought Iwould lie abed and rest, to-day; but I couldn't resist.I mean to try to knock off tomorrow, but it's doubtful if I do.I want to finish the day the machine finishes, and a week ago the closest calculations for that indicated Oct.22--but experience teaches me that their calculations will miss fire, as usual.

The other day the children were projecting a purchase, Livy and I to furnish the money-a dollar and a half.Jean discouraged the idea.She said: "We haven't got any money.Children, if you would think, you would remember the machine isn't done.

It's billiards to-night.I wish you were here.

With love to you both S.L.C.

P.S.I got it all wrong.It wasn't the children, it was Marie.She wanted a box of blacking, for the children's shoes.Jean reproved her-and said:

"Why, Marie, you mustn't ask for things now.The machine isn't done.

S.L.C.

The letter that follows is to another of his old pilot friends, one who was also a schoolmate, Will Bowen, of Hannibal.There is today no means of knowing the occasion upon which this letter was written, but it does not matter; it is the letter itself that is of chief value.

To Will Bowen, in Hannibal, Mo.:

HARTFORD, Nov 4, '88.