for a long time, but decided to write and urge him to take up the idea.  He prepared the letter, going fully into the details of his plan, as was natural for him to do, then laid it aside until he could see Bliss and secure his approval of the scheme from a publishing standpoint.  Just a week later, it was the 9th of March, a letter came—­a thick letter bearing a Nevada postmark, and addressed in a handwriting which he presently recognized as De Quille’s.  To a visitor who was present he said: 

“Now I will do a miracle.  I will tell you everything this letter contains—­date, signature, and all without breaking the seal.”

He stated what he believed was in the letter.  Then he opened it and showed that he had correctly given its contents, which were the same in all essential details as those of his own letter, not yet mailed.

In an article on “Mental Telegraphy” (he invented the name) he relates this instance, with others, and in ‘Following the Equator’ and elsewhere he records other such happenings.  It was one of the “mysteries” in which he never lost interest, though his concern in it in time became a passive one.

The result of the De Quille manifestation, however, he has not recorded.  Clemens immediately wrote, urging Dan to come to Hartford for an extended visit.  De Quille came, and put in a happy spring in his old comrade’s luxurious home, writing ‘The Big Bonanza’, which Bliss successfully published a year later.

Mark Twain was continually inviting old friends to share his success with him.  Any comrade of former days found welcome in his home as often as he would come, and for as long as he would stay.  Clemens dropped his own affairs to advise in their undertakings; and if their undertakings were literary he found them a publisher.  He did this for Joaquin Miller and for Bret Harte, and he was always urging Goodman to make his house a home.

The Beecher-Tilton trial was the sensation of the spring of 1875, and Clemens, in common with many others, was greatly worked up over it.  The printed testimony had left him decidedly in doubt as to Beecher’s innocence, though his blame would seem to have been less for the possible offense than because of the great leader’s attitude in the matter.  To Twichell he said: 

“His quibbling was fatal.  Innocent or guilty, he should have made an unqualified statement in the beginning.”

Together they attended one of the sessions, on a day when Beecher himself was on the witness-stand.  The tension was very great; the excitement was painful.  Twichell thought that Beecher appeared well under the stress of examination and was deeply sorry for him; Clemens was far from convinced.

The feeling was especially strong in Hartford, where Henry Ward Beecher’s relatives were prominent, and animosities grew out of it.  They are all forgotten now; most of those who cherished bitterness are dead.  Any feeling that Clemens had in the matter lasted but a little while.  Howells tells us that when he met him some months after the trial ended, and was tempted to mention it, Clemens discouraged any discussion of the event.  Says Howells: