To Olivia L. Langdon
7 September 1869 • Buffalo, N.Y.
(MS: CU-MARK, UCCL 00349)

I know a little rascal that I wish was in my arms now. It is raining, & Larned is gone home & is comfortably housed, & can listen to the storm & have somebody he loves best to help him gr feel grateful for shelter from it & from the toiling & moiling, the sordid & selfish struggling of the great world outside—somebody to talk to—somebody to kiss—somebody’s eyes to look into & worship. But I shall have to go to a solemn, silent room, presently, & if the speechless furniture welcomes me, well & good—if the dumb emptiness has a word for me, well & good again—otherwise [they day ]will have passed & the night waned apace without a sentence of conversation, for both of us have sat still & busy since breakfast. Bless me, how I am drawn toward you at such times! It seems a crime not to have broken my word & banished lecturing forever, so that I might have my little wife at the earliest moment. I wish you were in my arms, Livy dear, & then I wouldn’t care for anything.

But I have your letters, darling. I haven’t yet got over a secret thrill of vanity when I see the dear old familiar hand on a letter for me, & I doubt if I ever shall. I always feel proud. And a year ago, I was so proud to get a letter from you in Cleveland, with a picture in it, notwithstanding [ their there ]was sorrow enough in the wording tidings it brought. And I was proud of the few letters I got in Hartford1—& now, why I can hardly comprehend that it is actually I that get a letter every day from Livy—& she is mine—my own Livy for time & eternity—never to be taken from me by any hand but that of the arch Destroyer to whose edict all must bow. You are unspeakably precious to me my darling—a blessing before which all other earthly treasures are dross & worthless.

I have got the sermon, dearie, but have not yet broken the seal—it has a double stamp on it, & so I r know my the little hand has been marking something, & I shall have the pleasure of reading it as soon as I go to bed.—bless her dear old heart.2

I have been preparing some newspaper notices of the book to publish in a supplement, but [ thre they ]threaten to make a page of the paper.3 I suppose I shall have to cut them down some, though I had hoped to bore you with them in full & let you preserve them for me, as the Dead Canary4 does. I find I have lost some of the best. I may have forgotten to file them.

Sweetheart, I think I sent you the Salutatory this morning—I know I hunted one up, intending to do it. You must have it, because you will have to edit my “Works” when I am gone. I [ wis ]meant to cut out a column of those “People & Things,” occasionally, for they are excellent, as texts to string out a sketch from, but as usual I have neglected it.5

Puss, I shall bid you good night, now, for I lay reading altogether too late, last night, & disobeyed my little princess’s commands, & of course I feel stupid in consequence today. I must obey better. Never mind—after a while when we are together, [youl ]will have me where you can say “It is time for you to go to sleep, now”—& then I shall obey promptly. Because then I shall have had your company instead of having to read musty books, & I shall be cheerfully willing to obey.

Go to bed, now, little sweetheart, whom I love, & honor, & bless, reverently & with my whole heart.

Sam.

Do you remember young Mrs. Barstow whom I told you about? That unfortunate (or worthless) husband) of hers is not improving, it seems. She wants to try to earn a living for herself, poor girl—she wants an agency for the book. She is in Fredericksburg, Va., with her husband, & is out of money. I have written Bliss to send her all the books she wants & I would pay the bill if she failed to do it. She seems to have found a large-hearted & courageous friend, ‸in a Southern lady, a quaint, out-spoken one,‸ even in her adversity—for she is a good girl. 6

Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira | N.Y. [postmarked:] [buffalo ]n.y. [sep ] 8 [docketed by OLL:] 116th | 116th

Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary

Editorial Signs

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1 Olivia’s first letter after she had refused Clemens’s initial proposal of marriage, written about the middle of September 1868, had enclosed a picture. Clemens had received two letters from her in Hartford, one on 16 October 1868, and the other by 30 October (see L2, 250–51, 266, 271).

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2 Olivia had undoubtedly sent a Plymouth Pulpit, containing one of Henry Ward Beecher’s sermons, not now identifiable.

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3 The newspaper reviews of The Innocents Abroad, in conjunction with the “Press Greetings” to Clemens, filled one and one-third pages of the Buffalo Express of 9 October (see 2 Sept 69 to Bliss, n. 1).

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4 George W. Elliott.

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5 Clemens had probably “cut out” portions of at least one “People and Things” for Olivia to save (see 19 Aug 69 to OLL, nn. 1, 6).

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6 Barstow’s friend, who may have written to Clemens on her behalf, remains unidentified (see 7 Sept 69 to Bliss [two letters]).

Description of Texts and Provenance

Source text(s):

MS, Mark Twain Papers, The Bancroft Library, University of California, Berkeley (CU-MARK)

Previous publication: L3, 344–346; LLMT, 360, brief paraphrase.

Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.

Emendations and textual notes:

they day • [sic]

their there • theirre [canceled ‘r’ partly formed]

thre they • threey

wis • [‘s’ partly formed]

youl • [‘l’ partly formed]

buffalo • b[ua]lo [badly inked]

sep • [se]p [badly inked]