Buf. 12.
Dear Redpath:
That was all right. I knew you’d print the dispatch—but next morning the little stranger’s health was so precarious that I thought I would try to stop the publication, merely on his mother’s account, for [it ] he was taken away, all printed jokes about him would grate upon her feelings of course. But he seems to be doing pretty well, & so it was perfectly proper to print the message.1
I wish I could be at the Press Club dinner [tonight]. I have sent the boys a dispatch.2 If I happen over to the telegraph office I will answer your letter by telegraph.
Love to you.
Yrs
Mark.
[letter docketed:] boston lyceum bureau. redpath & fall. nov 3 18703 [and] N. Y. | Buffalo | Mark Twain | Nov. 12 ’70
Explanatory Notes | Textual Commentary
Source text(s):
Previous publication:
L4, 235–236.
Provenance:bequeathed to MH in 1918 by Evert J. Wendell.
Emendations and textual notes:
it • [sic]
tonight • to-|night