I told him to stop being 16 at 40; told him to stop drooling about the sweet yet melancholy past, and take a pill.  I said there was but one solitary thing about the past worth remembering, and that was the fact that it is the past—­can’t be restored.  Well, I exaggerated some of these truths a little—­but only a little—­but my idea was to kill his sham sentimentality once and forever, and so make a good fellow of him again.  I went to the unheard-of trouble of re-writing the letter and saying the same harsh things softly, so as to sugarcoat the anguish and make it a little more endurable and I asked him to write and thank me honestly for doing him the best and kindliest favor that any friend ever had done him —­but he hasn’t done it yet.  Maybe he will, sometime.  I am grateful to God that I got that letter off before he was married (I get that news from you) else he would just have slobbered all over me and drowned me when that event happened.

I enclose photograph for the young ladies.  I will remark that I do not wear seal-skin for grandeur, but because I found, when I used to lecture in the winter, that nothing else was able to keep a man warm sometimes, in these high latitudes.  I wish you had sent pictures of yourself and family—­I’ll trade picture for picture with you, straight through, if you are commercially inclined. 
                    Your old friend,
                              Saml L. Clemens.

XVII.

Letters, 1877.  To Bermuda with Twichell.  Proposition to th.  Nast. The Whittier dinner

Mark Twain must have been too busy to write letters that winter.  Those that have survived are few and unimportant.  As a matter of fact, he was writing the play, “Ah Sin,” with Bret Harte, and getting it ready for production.  Harte was a guest in the Clemens home while the play was being written, and not always a pleasant one.  He was full of requirements, critical as to the ‘menage,’ to the point of sarcasm.  The long friendship between Clemens and Harte weakened under the strain of collaboration and intimate daily intercourse, never to renew its old fiber.  It was an unhappy outcome of an enterprise which in itself was to prove of little profit.  The play, “Ah Sin,” had many good features, and with Charles T. Parsloe in an amusing Chinese part might have been made a success, if the two authors could have harmoniously undertaken the needed repairs.  It opened in Washington in May, and a letter from Parsloe, written at the moment, gives a hint of the situation.

From Charles T. Parsloe to S. L. Clemens: 

Washington, D. C. May 11th, 1877.  Mr. Clemens,—­I forgot whether I acknowledged receipt of check by telegram.  Harte has been here since Monday last and done little or nothing yet, but promises to have something fixed by tomorrow morning.  We have been making some improvements among ourselves.  The last act is weak at the end, and I do hope Mr. Harte will have something for a good finish to the piece.  The other acts I think are all right, now.