story, and it became widely known in America, India, China, England—­and the reputation it made for me has paid me thousands and thousands of dollars since.  Four or five months ago I bought into the Express (I have ordered it sent to you as long as you live—­and if the book keeper sends you any bills, you let me hear of it.) I went heavily in debt never could have dared to do that, Jim, if we hadn’t heard the jumping Frog story that day.

And wouldn’t I love to take old Stoker by the hand, and wouldn’t I love to see him in his great specialty, his wonderful rendition of “Rinalds” in the “Burning Shame!” Where is Dick and what is he doing?  Give him my fervent love and warm old remembrances.

A week from today I shall be married to a girl even better, and lovelier than the peerless “Chapparal Quails.”  You can’t come so far, Jim, but still I cordially invite you to come, anyhow—­and I invite Dick, too.  And if you two boys were to land here on that pleasant occasion, we would make you right royally welcome. 
                              Truly your friend,
                                        SAML L. Clemens.

P. S.  “California plums are good, Jim—­particularly when they are stewed.”

Steve Gillis, who sent a copy of his letter to the writer, added:  “Dick Stoker—­dear, gentle unselfish old Dick-died over three years ago, aged 78.  I am sure it will be a melancholy pleasure to Mark to know that Dick lived in comfort all his later life, sincerely loved and respected by all who knew him.  He never left Jackass Hill.  He struck a pocket years ago containing enough not only to build himself a comfortable house near his old cabin, but to last him, without work, to his painless end.  He was a Mason, and was buried by the Order in Sonora.

“The ’Quails’—­the beautiful, the innocent, the wild little Quails —­lived way out in the Chapparal; on a little ranch near the Stanislaus River, with their father and mother.  They were famous for their beauty and had many suitors.”

The mention of “California plums” refers to some inedible fruit which Gillis once, out of pure goodness of heart, bought of a poor wandering squaw, and then, to conceal his motive, declared that they were something rare and fine, and persisted in eating them, though even when stewed they nearly choked him.

X.

Letters 1870-71.  Mark Twain in Buffalo.  Marriage.  The Buffalo express.  “Memoranda.”  Lectures.  A new book

Samuel L. Clemens and Olivia Langdon were married in the Langdon home at Elmira, February 2, 1870, and took up their residence in Buffalo in a beautiful home, a wedding present from the bride’s father.  The story of their wedding, and the amusing circumstances connected with their establishment in Buffalo, have been told elsewhere.—­[Mark Twain:  A Biography, chap. lxxiv.]

Mark Twain now believed that he was through with lecturing.  Two
letters to Redpath, his agent, express his comfortable condition.