morning express $10 per annum.
office of the express printing company
evening
express $8 per annum.no. 14 east swan
street.
weekly express $1.50 per annum.
buffalo, Aug. 21, P.M. 186 9.
Darling, it is 9 o’clock, now, & you are aware that there are no kisses for us to-night.1 I feel more than half sorry I [ do did] did not go to you, for I have not succeeded in doing the mass of work I had laid out for myself, for sitting up so late last night has kept me stupiefied all day. It is the last time I shall be out of bed at [midnight]. And this night I mean to catch up. I shall be in bed, Puss, before your dainty little figure is tucked between your sheets, this evening. Bless your precious heart, I wish I could see you. I am afraid this is going to be a pretty long week, without a glimpse of my darling. But then (D. V.,) I shall put my arms about you next Friday evening & stay till Monday morning. You see I ought to be at my post by 8 o’clock every morning, & fresh—which I wouldnt so I would have to return on Saturday night—& that was partly why I put off my visit this week. But Larned says don’t bother about that—he will do the work of both of us from 3 [ 5 ] 3 P.M. Satu Friday till Monday noon whenever I want to go to Elmira—which is equivalent to getting out two editions of the paper alone.2 He is not a very bad fellow.
McWilliams & I went down to the Lake after supper & had a row. I needed the exercise.
His wife sorts out my soiled linen, takes a list of it, delivers it to the washerwoman in my absence, returns it again & attends to the settlement of the bill—& Mac tells me she will cheerfully do me do any mending I may need. She is a very excellent [ little young] lady, & I like her very much.3 [much. Thanks ] Thanks to my darling’s busy fingers, however, I haven’t any mending to do., at present.
Among the books sent us to review was one called “Wedlock,” which I [siezed] & read, intending to mark it & take it to you, but it ‸was‸ nothing but a mass of threadbare old platitudes & maudlin advice shoveled together without rhyme or reason, & so I threw it away & told Larned to embody that opinion in his notice (he was reviewing the books.)4
I wrote Redpath to-day, asking him to let me off entirely from lecturing in New England ne this season, for if I would rather scribble, now, while I take a genuine interest in it, & it I am so tired of wandering, & want to be still & rest.
That thief that wrote about the dead canary & sends me so much execrable music5 has found me out & is writing publishing extravagant puffs of me & mailing the papers to me, duly marked, as usual.6 I shall offer a bounty for his scalp, yet. He is one of the most persistent & exasperating acquaintances I was ever afflicted with. 7
Larned & I sit upon opposite sides of the same table & it is exceedingly convenient—for if you will remember, you sometimes write till you reach the [middle] of a subject & then run hard aground—you know what you want to say, but for the life of you you can’t say—your ideas & your words get thick & sluggish & you are vanquished. So occasionally, after biting our nails & scratching our heads awhile, we s just reach over & swap manuscript—& then we scribble away without the least trouble, he finishing my article & I his. Some of our patch-work editorials are of this kind are all the better for the new life they get by crossing the breed.
Little dearie, little darling, in a few minutes, after I ‸shall‸ have read a Testament lesson & prayed for us both, as usual, I shall be in bed. And I shall dream, both before & after I go to sleep, of the little flower that ‸has‸ sprung up in the desert beside me & shed its fragrance over my life & made its ways attractive with its beauty and turned its weariness to contentment with [its] sweet spirit. And I shall bless you, my darling, out of the fulness of a heart that knows your worth beyond the ken of any, even those that have been with you always; & out of the depths of a gratitude that owes to you the knowledge of what light is, where darkness was, & peace where turbulence reigned, & the beauty & majesty of love where a [loveliness] soul sat in its rags before & held out its unheeded hand for [charity. Better] than [ ot ] all others I understand you & appreciate you, for this ‸it‸ is the prerogative of love to attain to alone, & therefore better than all others I can love you, & do love you, & shall love you, always, my Livy.
Good night darling—& peaceful slumbers refresh you & ministering angels attend you.
Sam.
Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira | N. Y. [return address:] if not delivered within 10 days, to be returned to [postmark, hand corrected at post office:] buffalo n. y. aug 23 22 [docketed by OLL:] 104th| E | Express | Es E Ex | Express | Express | Espress
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Ye murderers, unawed by fear, Who bend at Herod’s crimson shrine!— Turn once a scaleless vision here, And view this lifeless bird of mine: Then in your hell-born purpose pause! Forsake the path so reckless trod; Lest, while ye scoff at Nature’s laws, Ye feel the withering curse of God! Elliott had been sending Clemens copies of his lyrics, including his
latest, “The Blush Rose,” which he had published,
along with a complete list of his songs (all set to music by others), on
6 August in the Fort Plain (N.Y.) Mohawk Valley
Register. Clemens may have thought Elliott a
“thief” because several of the listed titles
seemed suspiciously derivative: “Banks of the
Genessee,” “Columbia, Queen of the
Land,” “Carrie, with the Golden Hair,”
“Allie, the Blue-Eyed Blonde,” and “The
Sweet Good Night” (Elliott 1869 [bib11245]).
—Saml. L.
Clemens (“Mark
Twain”) has bought an interest in the Buffalo Express. We welcome “Mark
Twain” to our ranks as a needed accession to journalistic
jollity; but it is to be regretted that he did not have a little
more time for preparation. His personal safety would have been
subserved by the erection of an iron building, thoroughly braced and
girded, for an office. Now, his life will remain in perpetual peril,
because the constant cachinnatory explosions inside and outside the
establishment, from those whose sense of propriety and humanity will
be lost in their risible overflow, will cause the very walls of the
building to topple till they fall! (Elliott 1869 [bib11246]) When “Mark Twain”
announced his intention to finish his book and leave for California,
we feared that his fair fame would be forever blasted. It seemed as
though he were apprehensive of the disastrous consequences of his
book; and like experienced railroad men who, hearing a short, sharp
whistle from the locomotive, prepare for some impending danger, he
was anxious to seek a place of safety, remote from the scene of ruin
he had wrought. We had personally seen the almost fatal effects of
his “Jumping Frog.” We once read a sketch from
it to a circle of friends, and before we had finished, their eyes
looked as though they had been weeping over the loss of all they had
in the world. They held their sides and groaned aloud with pain. We
read another sketch, and it finished them for the time, as
completely as though they had all been stricken down with paralysis.
The result was, they each had to be carefully carried home on a
furlough by their friends! We knew that the present work would be
voluminous, and we trembled for the result. Happily the publishers
hit upon a plan of letting the book out gradually, through an army
of agents, who were to be instructed to caution people of delicate
consti[t]utions in regard to its powerful effect.
Finally, the business of distribution was so admirably arranged,
that “Mark Twain” concluded to settle down on
the Buffalo Express; to remain and stand the
consequences, be they what they might—even though the
book should be the substantial building of his fortune and his fame! For us to even name the varied contents of
“The Innocents Abroad,” would be to throw our
readers into a violent qui vive, from which
they would, perhaps, never recover! The work will not be for sale at
the bookstores, because it would be dangerous to people to have it
lying around loose. It can be obtained only of the regularly
appointed agents, and should be read sparingly, at first. It will
cause the lean to grow fat, the weak to wax strong, the blind to
open their eyes, and the dolefully delirious to dance with joy! Buy
it, by all means! Have the necessary sum awaiting in your wallet,
stowed securely away in your porte monnaies,
or carefully concealed in the corners of your handkerchiefs. Buy it,
and you will bless “Mark Twain” to the end of
your existence. Its mirthful memories will shed a halo of happiness
around your pathway and over your declining years, like the mellow
hues of a golden sunset around the rock-ribbed, snow-capped,
cloud-enveloped Sierras of the West! (Elliott 1869 [bib11247]) Clemens and Bliss repeatedly quoted only the penultimate sentence from
the second “puff” in their advertising materials
for Innocents (“Advertising
Supplement,” Buffalo Express, 9 Oct
69, 2; APC 1869, [2], and 1870, [2]).
Source text(s):Previous publication:
L3, 316–320; LLMT, 104–6.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.
Emendations and textual notes:
do did • doid
midnight • mid-|night
5 • [partly formed]
little young • [‘young’ over wiped-out ‘little’]
much. Thanks • much.—|Thanks
siezed • [sic]
middle • mdiddle
its • it its [corrected miswriting]
loveliness • [‘ess’ over wiped-out ‘in’]
charity. Better • charity.— |Better
ot • [‘t’ partly formed]
