It will be a starchy book, and should be full of snappy pictures —­especially pictures worked in with the letterpress.  The dedication will be worth the price of the volume—­thus: 

                           To the Late Cain. 
                        This Book is Dedicated: 

Not on account of respect for his memory, for it merits little respect; not on account of sympathy with him, for his bloody deed placed him without the pale of sympathy, strictly speaking:  but out of a mere human commiseration for him that it was his misfortune to live in a dark age that knew not the beneficent Insanity Plea.

I think it will do. 
                         Yrs.  Clemens.

P. S.—­The reaction is beginning and my stock is looking up.  I am getting the bulliest offers for books and almanacs; am flooded with lecture invitations, and one periodical offers me $6,000 cash for 12 articles, of any length and on any subject, treated humorously or otherwise.

     The suggested dedication “to the late Cain” may have been the
     humoristic impulse of the moment.  At all events, it did not
     materialize.

Clemens’s enthusiasm for work was now such that he agreed with Redpath to return to the platform that autumn, and he began at once writing lectures.  His disposal of the Buffalo paper had left him considerably in debt, and platforming was a sure and quick method of retrenchment.  More than once in the years ahead Mark Twain would return to travel and one-night stands to lift a burden of debt.  Brief letters to Redpath of this time have an interest and even a humor of their own.

Letters to James Redpath, in Boston: 

Elmira, June 27, 1871.  Dear red,—­Wrote another lecture—­a third one-today.  It is the one I am going to deliver.  I think I shall call it “Reminiscences of Some Pleasant Characters Whom I Have Met,” (or should the “whom” be left out?) It covers my whole acquaintance—­kings, lunatics, idiots and all.  Suppose you give the item a start in the Boston papers.  If I write fifty lectures I shall only choose one and talk that one only.

No sir:  Don’t you put that scarecrow (portrait) from the Galaxy in, I
won’t stand that nightmare. 
                              Yours,
          
                              Mark.

Elmira, July 10, 1871.  Dear Redpath,—­I never made a success of a lecture delivered in a church yet.  People are afraid to laugh in a church.  They can’t be made to do it in any possible way.

Success to Fall’s carbuncle and many happy returns. 
                              Yours,
          
                              Mark.

To Mr. Fall, in Boston: 

Elmira, N. Y. July 20, 1871. 
Friend fall,—­Redpath tells me to blow up.  Here goes!  I wanted you to scare Rondout off with a big price. $125 ain’t big.  I got $100 the first time I ever talked there and now they have a much larger hall.  It is a hard town to get to—­I run a chance of getting caught by the ice and missing next engagement.  Make the price $150 and let them draw out. 
Yours
Mark