To James Redpath, in Boston: 

Buffalo, March 22, 1890. 
Dear red,—­I am not going to lecture any more forever.  I have got things ciphered down to a fraction now.  I know just about what it will cost us to live and I can make the money without lecturing.  Therefore old man, count me out. 
Your friend,
S. L. Clemens.

To James Redpath, in Boston: 

Elmira, N. Y. May 10, 1870. 
Friend Redpath,—­I guess I am out of the field permanently.

Have got a lovely wife; a lovely house, bewitchingly furnished; a lovely carriage, and a coachman whose style and dignity are simply awe-inspiring—­nothing less—­and I am making more money than necessary —­by considerable, and therefore why crucify myself nightly on the platform.  The subscriber will have to be excused from the present season at least.

Remember me to Nasby, Billings and Fall.—­[Redpath’s partner in the lecture lyceum.]—­Luck to you!  I am going to print your menagerie, Parton and all, and make comments.

In next Galaxy I give Nasby’s friend and mine from Philadelphia (John
Quill, a literary thief) a “hyste.” 
                         Yours always and after. 
          
                                        Mark.

The reference to the Galaxy in the foregoing letter has to do with a department called Memoranda, which he had undertaken to conduct for the new magazine.  This work added substantially to his income, and he believed it would be congenial.  He was allowed free hand to write and print what he chose, and some of his best work at this time was published in the new department, which he continued for a year.

Mark Twain now seemed to have his affairs well regulated.  His mother and sister were no longer far away in St. Louis.  Soon after his marriage they had, by his advice, taken up residence at Fredonia, New York, where they could be easily visited from Buffalo.

Altogether, the outlook seemed bright to Mark Twain and his wife, during the first months of their marriage.  Then there came a change.  In a letter which Clemens wrote to his mother and sister we get the first chapter of disaster.

       To Mrs. Jane Clemens, and Mrs. Moffett, in Fredonia, N. Y.: 

Elmira, N. Y. June 25, 1870.  My dear mother and sister,—­We were called here suddenly by telegram, 3 days ago.  Mr. Langdon is very low.  We have well-nigh lost hope—­all of us except Livy.

Mr. Langdon, whose hope is one of his most prominent characteristics, says himself, this morning, that his recovery is only a possibility, not a probability.  He made his will this morning—­that is, appointed executors—­nothing else was necessary.  The household is sad enough Charley is in Bavaria.  We telegraphed Munroe & Co.  Paris, to notify Charley to come home—­they sent the message to Munich.  Our message left here at 8 in the morning and Charley’s answer arrived less than eight hours afterward.  He sailed immediately.