Hartford Mch 28.
My Dear Sage—
You’ve got the date right; but we shan’t want to go outside of your own door-yard till we shove for Hartford—not even to attend prayer meeting. Don’t want to dine with anybody but you; don’t want any social intercourse that will take us outside of your snuggery. We are coming for a reposeful, tranquilizing, rejuvenating private debauch, & a clandestine good time. We appreciate your good intentions, but they are misguided, my boy, & evince a vast misapprehension of the peculiar lusts of your guests & your own attractions. The cheerful jug, the contemplative cigar, holy conversation, & isolation from the world—these are the things that are precious to us; & all things else hold we to be valueless.1
We will telegraph you what time to expect us at your office.2
Truly yours
S. L. Clemens
Explanatory Notes
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L6, 431.