Hang that Anna Dickinson, a body can never depend upon her debuts!  She has made five or six false starts already.  If she fails to debut this time, I will never bet on her again.

In his book, My Mark Twain, Howells refers to the “tragedy” of Miss Dickinson’s appearance.  She was the author of numerous plays, some of which were successful, but her career as an actress was never brilliant.

At Elmira that summer the Clemenses heard from their good friend
Doctor Brown, of Edinburgh, and sent eager replies.

To Dr. John Brown, in Edinburgh: 

Elmira, new York, U. S. June 22, 1876.  Dear friend the doctor,—­It was a perfect delight to see the well-known handwriting again!  But we so grieve to know that you are feeling miserable.  It must not last—­it cannot last.  The regal summer is come and it will smile you into high good cheer; it will charm away your pains, it will banish your distresses.  I wish you were here, to spend the summer with us.  We are perched on a hill-top that overlooks a little world of green valleys, shining rivers, sumptuous forests and billowy uplands veiled in the haze of distance.  We have no neighbors.  It is the quietest of all quiet places, and we are hermits that eschew caves and live in the sun.  Doctor, if you’d only come!

I will carry your letter to Mrs. C. now, and there will be a glad woman,
I tell you!  And she shall find one of those pictures to put in this for
Mrs. Barclays and if there isn’t one here we’ll send right away to
Hartford and get one.  Come over, Doctor John, and bring the Barclays,
the Nicolsons and the Browns, one and all! 
                         Affectionately,
                                        Saml.  L. Clemens.

From May until August no letters appear to have passed between Clemens and Howells; the latter finally wrote, complaining of the lack of news.  He was in the midst of campaign activities, he said, writing a life of Hayes, and gaily added:  “You know I wrote the life of Lincoln, which elected him.”  He further reported a comedy he had completed, and gave Clemens a general stirring up as to his own work.

Mark Twain, in his hillside study, was busy enough.  Summer was his time for work, and he had tried his hand in various directions.  His mention of Huck Finn in his reply to Howells is interesting, in that it shows the measure of his enthusiasm, or lack of it, as a gauge of his ultimate achievement

To W. D. Howells, in Boston: 

Elmira, Aug. 9, 1876.  My dear Howells,—­I was just about to write you when your letter came —­and not one of those obscene postal cards, either, but reverently, upon paper.