When you come to glance at the tale you will recollect it—­it is as common and familiar as the Tar Baby.  Work up the atmosphere with your customary skill and it will “go” in print.

Lumbago seems to make a body garrulous—­but you’ll forgive it. 
                                   Truly yours
                                        S. L. Clemens

The “Golden Arm” story was one that Clemens often used in his public
readings, and was very effective as he gave it.

In his sketch, “How to Tell a Story,” it appears about as he used to tell it.  Harris, receiving the outlines of the old Missouri tale, presently announced that he had dug up its Georgia relative, an interesting variant, as we gather from Mark Twain’s reply.

To Joel Chandler Harris, in Atlanta: 

Hartford, ’81.  My dear Mr. Harris,—­I was very sure you would run across that Story somewhere, and am glad you have.  A Drummond light—­no, I mean a Brush light—­is thrown upon the negro estimate of values by his willingness to risk his soul and his mighty peace forever for the sake of a silver sev’m-punce.  And this form of the story seems rather nearer the true field-hand standard than that achieved by my Florida, Mo., negroes with their sumptuous arm of solid gold.

I judge you haven’t received my new book yet—­however, you will in a day or two.  Meantime you must not take it ill if I drop Osgood a hint about your proposed story of slave life.....

When you come north I wish you would drop me a line and then follow it in person and give me a day or two at our house in Hartford.  If you will, I will snatch Osgood down from Boston, and you won’t have to go there at all unless you want to.  Please to bear this strictly in mind, and don’t forget it. 
                         Sincerely yours
                                   S. L. Clemens.

Charles Warren Stoddard, to whom the next letter is written, was one of the old California literary crowd, a graceful writer of verse and prose, never quite arriving at the success believed by his friends to be his due.  He was a gentle, irresponsible soul, well loved by all who knew him, and always, by one or another, provided against want.  The reader may remember that during Mark Twain’s great lecture engagement in London, winter of 1873-74, Stoddard lived with him, acting as his secretary.  At a later period in his life he lived for several years with the great telephone magnate, Theodore N. Vail.  At the time of this letter, Stoddard had decided that in the warm light and comfort of the Sandwich Islands he could survive on his literary earnings.

To Charles Warren Stoddard, in the Sandwich Islands: 

Hartford, Oct. 26 ’81.  My dear Charlie,—­Now what have I ever done to you that you should not only slide off to Heaven before you have earned a right to go, but must add the gratuitous villainy of informing me of it?.....