Jean got the stockings and is much obliged; Mollie wants to know whom she most resembles, but I can’t tell; she has blue eyes and brown hair, and three chins, and is very fat and happy; and at one time or another she has resembled all the different Clemenses and Langdons, in turn, that have ever lived.

Livy is too much beaten out with the baby, nights, to write, these times; and I don’t know of anything urgent to say, except that a basket full of letters has accumulated in the 7 days that I have been whooping and cursing over a cold in the head—­and I must attack the pile this very minute. 
                         With love from us
                                        Y aff
                                             Sam
$25 enclosed.

On the completion of The Prince and Pauper story, Clemens had naturally sent it to Howells for consideration.  Howells wrote:  “I have read the two P’s and I like it immensely, it begins well and it ends well.”  He pointed out some things that might be changed or omitted, and added:  “It is such a book as I would expect from you, knowing what a bottom of fury there is to your fun.”  Clemens had thought somewhat of publishing the story anonymously, in the fear that it would not be accepted seriously over his own signature.

The “bull story” referred to in the next letter is the one later
used in the Joan of Arc book, the story told Joan by “Uncle Laxart,”
how he rode a bull to a funeral.

To W. D. Howells, in Boston: 

Xmas Eve, 1880.  My dear Howells,—­I was prodigiously delighted with what you said about the book—­so, on the whole, I’ve concluded to publish intrepidly, instead of concealing the authorship.  I shall leave out that bull story.

I wish you had gone to New York.  The company was small, and we had a first-rate time.  Smith’s an enjoyable fellow.  I liked Barrett, too.  And the oysters were as good as the rest of the company.  It was worth going there to learn how to cook them.

Next day I attended to business—­which was, to introduce Twichell to Gen. Grant and procure a private talk in the interest of the Chinese Educational Mission here in the U. S. Well, it was very funny.  Joe had been sitting up nights building facts and arguments together into a mighty and unassailable array and had studied them out and got them by heart—­all with the trembling half-hearted hope of getting Grant to add his signature to a sort of petition to the Viceroy of China; but Grant took in the whole situation in a jiffy, and before Joe had more than fairly got started, the old man said:  “I’ll write the Viceroy a Letter —­a separate letter—­and bring strong reasons to bear upon him; I know him well, and what I say will have weight with him; I will attend to it right away.  No, no thanks—­I shall be glad to do it—­it will be a labor of love.”

So all Joe’s laborious hours were for naught!  It was as if he had come to borrow a dollar, and been offered a thousand before he could unfold his case....