Hartford, Friday.
A natural impulse [siezes ] me to write to my darling, every opportunity I get. I suppose I ought to be writing a newspaper letter, but the mood is not with me & I would only fail. But if I fail with Livy, she won’t mind it.
You are the faithfullest little wife that ever a man had. I hardly dared to hope for a letter when I went down town this morning, but there it was—& I felt so grateful to you, dearie. I adjourned to the shade of an elm in the park (glorious, isn’t it, that we seek shade, once more, instead of warm places to shield us from hideous [winter?) Bless1 ] her you, I can see you in the big black chair as distinctly as if I were there. I wish I could touch you. (That word touch is your handwriting—maybe “Sister Crane” was not so far wrong when she fancied a resemblance in our hands.—if there is, I have unconsciously adopted yours.) Take the pen & write “[touch.,” ] with your eyes shut.2
Uncle Cholley isn’t coming—have just received a telegram. He says he will write & explain.
I wrote an article last night on the “Private Habits of the Siamese Twins.,” & I put a lot of obscure jokes in it on purpose to tangle my little sweetheart.3 I am not going to explain them, either, you little rascal, because [ th ] you threw that sarcasm at me. “So there, now.”
Twichell & I, & another preacher or two, & the editor of the “p Post” are to take tea—with Mr. Henry Clay Trumbull, this evening, but you can’t go, on account of that sarcasm.4
The printing of the book is let two to two different houses, both large concerns, (so I suppose we are to have more than one set of electrotype plates,) & each is ‸they are‸ to print 10,000 copies each, right away. One paper mill has contrascted to make paper for this Mr. Bliss only all the summer, & drop everything else. The main part of this paper is for my book, & the remainder is for a final edition of Richardson’s “Beyond the Mississippi”—they think the opening of the Pacific R. R. will warrant the effort to sell a new edition.5
Bother the California trip!—I can’t hear from the boys in Washington when they propose that we shall start. I must hear within a day or two, though, I suppose, & then I’ll tell Livy. It is splendid to have somebody to tell things to who will take an interest in them. Heretofore, when I was going to California, I told my landlord—& he sent in his bill. That was all he cared about it. Now there is somebody who will care to know when, & how, & all about it., bless her heart.
I a was writing in the supposition that I had written about this before, but I don’t really believe I have. I can’t remember. Anyway, Riley & Young wrote (“New York Tribune”—not J. R. Y., but his brother—& “Alta California”)6 wrote me from Washington that they are going across the Plains early in June, & wanted me to go with them instead of by sea. I said I liked it & I guessed I would (for they are splendid good jolly company—much better than I would have at sea.) So I told them to appoint the exact day for leaving, & let me know, & the chances were a hundred to one that I would go.
You see, I can’t talk business to the Courant, for Warner is not home yet.7 I don’t want to talk to the Post people till I am done with the Courant (for cou nothing could be done, inasmuch as I have passed my word that I would not close a bargain with another party without first seeing Hawley again.) But chiefly, the book will possibly make me better known in New England & consequently more valuable to a newspaper—& so that will be good capital to trade on after a little. And finally, I do not want to be idle all the summer—& so, what can I do but go to Cal=? I am writing very cheerfully about it, but I do wish something would turn up to make that fearful trip entirely useless & unnecessary. For I do not want to make it—however, you know that, yourself.
I am ever so much obliged for the notices, my pet. You are the most valuable girl in the world. I never could have kept [those ] things, & yet just now it n is very necessary to have them for the Boston lecture agent. I knew I could trust you to scare up some of them; but I was surprised & glad you had so many. This is Friday—I will wait till Monday, (time for your return letter,) & in the meantime, dearie, won’t you look again for that N. Y. Tribune notice? I sent it you in a letter dated at New York the 28th of last November. If you can find that letter, maybe it is in it yet. However, there is no use in looking for dates—shake up all the letters of mine you can find, & if it is in any one of them I guess it will fall out.8
But here! this won’t do. While I am writing to the concentrated sun, moon & stars, the time to go to Trumbull’s is almost at hand. Good-bye—& blessings on my Livy darling.
Sam
Miss Olivia L. Langdon | Elmira | New York. [postmarked:] hartford conn. may 15 [docketed by OLL:] 69th| touch
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L3, 227–230; LLMT 358–59, brief paraphrase.
Provenance:see Samossoud Collection, p. 586.
Emendations and textual notes:
siezes • [sic]
winter?) Bless • winter?)—|Bless
touch.,” • [possibly ‘touch.,”’]
th • [partly formed]
those • those those