Bret Harte and Clemens had by this time quit the Californian, expecting to contribute to Eastern periodicals.  Clemens, however, was not yet through with Coast journalism.  There was much interest just at this time in the Sandwich Islands, and he was selected by the foremost Sacramento paper to spy out the islands and report aspects and conditions there.  His letters home were still infrequent, but this was something worth writing.

To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis: 

San Francisco, March 5th, 1866.  My dear mother and sister,—­I start to do Sandwich Islands day after tomorrow, (I suppose Annie is geographer enough by this time to find them on the map), in the steamer “Ajax.”  We shall arrive there in about twelve days.  My friends seem determined that I shall not lack acquaintances, for I only decided today to go, and they have already sent me letters of introduction to everybody down there worth knowing.  I am to remain there a month and ransack the islands, the great cataracts and the volcanoes completely, and write twenty or thirty letters to the Sacramento Union—­for which they pay me as much money as I would get if I staid at home.

If I come back here I expect to start straight across the continent by
way of the Columbia river, the Pend d’Oreille Lakes, through Montana and
down the Missouri river,—­only 200 miles of land travel from San
Francisco to New Orleans. 
                              Goodbye for the present. 
                                        Yours,
          
                                        Sam.

His home letters from the islands are numerous enough; everything there being so new and so delightful that he found joy in telling of it; also, he was still young enough to air his triumphs a little, especially when he has dined with the Grand Chamberlain and is going to visit the King!

The languorous life of the islands exactly suited Mask Twain.  All his life he remembered them—­always planning to return, some day, to stay there until he died.  In one of his note-books he wrote:  “Went with Mr. Dam to his cool, vine-shaded home; no care-worn or eager, anxious faces in this land of happy contentment.  God, what a contrast with California and the Washoe!”

And again: 

“Oh, Islands there are on the face of the deep
Where the leaves never fade and the skies never weep.”

The letters tell the story of his sojourn, which stretched itself
into nearly five months.

To Mrs. Jane Clemens and Mrs. Moffett, in St. Louis: