I shall print items occasionally, still further delaying Tom, till I ease him down to Autumn without shock to the waiting world.

As to that “Literary Nightmare” proposition.  I’m obliged to withhold consent, for what seems a good reason—­to wit:  A single page of horse-car poetry is all that the average reader can stand, without nausea; now, to stack together all of it that has been written, and then add it to my article would be to enrage and disgust each and every reader and win the deathless enmity of the lot.

Even if that reason were insufficient, there would still be a sufficient reason left, in the fact that Mr. Carlton seems to be the publisher of the magazine in which it is proposed to publish this horse-car matter.  Carlton insulted me in Feb. 1867, and so when the day arrives that sees me doing him a civility I shall feel that I am ready for Paradise, since my list of possible and impossible forgivenesses will then be complete.

Mrs. Clemens says my version of the blindfold novelette “A Murder and A Marriage” is “good.”  Pretty strong language—­for her.

The Fieldses are coming down to the play tomorrow, and they promise to get you and Mrs. Howells to come too, but I hope you’ll do nothing of the kind if it will inconvenience you, for I’m not going to play either strikingly bad enough or well enough to make the journey pay you.

My wife and I think of going to Boston May 7th to see Anna Dickinson’s debut on the 8th.  If I find we can go, I’ll try to get a stage box and then you and Mrs. Howells must come to Parker’s and go with us to the crucifixion.

(Is that spelt right?—­somehow it doesn’t look right.)

With our very kindest regards to the whole family. 
                              Yrs ever,
          
                              Mark.

The mention of Anna Dickinson, at the end of this letter, recalls a prominent reformer and lecturer of the Civil War period.  She had begun her crusades against temperance and slavery in 1857, when she was but fifteen years old, when her success as a speaker had been immediate and extraordinary.  Now, in this later period, at the age of thirty-four, she aspired to the stage—­unfortunately for her, as her gifts lay elsewhere.  Clemens and Howells knew Miss Dickinson, and were anxious for the success which they hardly dared hope for.  Clemens arranged a box party.

To W. D. Howells, in Boston: 

May 4, ’76.  My dear Howells,—­I shall reach Boston on Monday the 8th, either at 4:30 p.m. or 6 p.m. (Which is best?) and go straight to Parker’s.  If you and Mrs. Howells cannot be there by half past 4, I’ll not plan to arrive till the later train-time (6,) because I don’t want to be there alone—­even a minute.  Still, Joe Twichell will doubtless go with me (forgot that,) he is going to try hard to.  Mrs. Clemens has given up going, because Susy is just recovering from about the savagest assault of diphtheria a child ever did recover from, and therefore will not be entirely her healthy self again by the 8th.