years ago where the P. M. General suddenly issued
an edict requiring you to add the name of the State
after Boston, New York, Chicago, &c, in your superscriptions,
on pain of having your letter stopped and forwarded
to the dead-letter office; yes, and I believe he required
the county, too. He made one little concession
in favor of New York: you could say “New
York City,” and stop there; but if you left
off the “city,” you must add “N.
Y.” to your “New York.” Why,
it threw the business of the whole country into chaos
and brought commerce almost to a stand-still.
Now think of that! When that man goes to—to—well,
wherever he is going to—we shan’t
want the microscopic details of his address.
I guess we can find him.
Well, as I was saying, I believe that this whole paltry
and ridiculous swindle is a pure creation of one of
those cabbages that used to be at the head of one
of those Retreats down there—Departments,
you know—and that you will find it so,
if you will look into it. And moreover—but
land, I reckon we are both tired by this time.
Truly
Yours,
mark
Twain.
Miscellaneous letters of 1887.
Literary articles. Peaceful days
at the farm. Favorite reading.
Apology to Mrs. Cleveland, etc.
We have seen in the preceding chapter how unknown
aspirants in one field or another were always seeking
to benefit by Mark Twain’s reputation.
Once he remarked, “The symbol of the human race
ought to be an ax; every human being has one concealed
about him somewhere.” He declared when
a stranger called on him, or wrote to him, in nine
cases out of ten he could distinguish the gleam of
the ax almost immediately. The following letter
is closely related to those of the foregoing chapter,
only that this one was mailed—not once,
but many times, in some form adapted to the specific
applicant. It does not matter to whom it was
originally written, the name would not be recognized.
To Mrs. T. Concerning
unearned credentials, etc.
Hartford,
1887. My dear madam,—It
is an idea which many people have had, but it is of
no value. I have seen it tried out many and
many a time. I have seen a lady lecturer urged
and urged upon the public in a lavishly complimentary
document signed by Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes and
some others of supreme celebrity, but—there
was nothing in her and she failed. If there
had been any great merit in her she never would have
needed those men’s help and (at her rather mature
age,) would never have consented to ask for it.
There is an unwritten law about human successes, and
your sister must bow to that law, she must submit
to its requirements. In brief this law is:
