(Which I did, later.) Wilberforce carried off my hat from a lunch party last summer, and in to-day’s note he said he wouldn’t steal my new hat this time.  In my note I said I couldn’t make the drawing-room talk, now —­Murray would explain; and added a P. S.:  “You mustn’t think it is because I am afraid to trust my hat in your reach again, for I assure you upon honor it isn’t.  I should bring my old one.”

I had suggested to Murray a fortnight ago, that he get some big guns to write introductory monographs for the book.

Miss X, Joan’s Voices and Prophecies.

The Lord Chief Justice of England, the legal prodigies which she performed before her judges.

Lord Roberts, her military genius.

Kipling, her patriotism.

And so on.  When he came this morning he said he had captured Miss X; that Lord Roberts and Kipling were going to take hold and see if they could do monographs worthy of the book.  He hadn’t run the others to cover yet, but was on their track.  Very good news.  It is a grand book, and is entitled to the best efforts of the best people.  As for me, I took pains with my Introduction, and I admit that it is no slouch of a performance.

Then I came down to Chatto’s, and found your all too beautiful letter, and was lifted higher than ever.  Next came letters from America properly glorifying my Christian Science article in the Cosmopolitan (and one roundly abusing it,) and a letter from John Brisben Walker enclosing $200 additional pay for the article (he had already paid enough, but I didn’t mention that—­which wasn’t right of me, for this is the second time he has done such a thing, whereas Gilder has done it only once and no one else ever.) I make no prices with Walker and Gilder—­I can trust them.

And last of all came a letter from M-.  How I do wish that man was in hell.  Even-the briefest line from that idiot puts me in a rage.

But on the whole it has been a delightful day, and with M——­in hell it would have been perfect.  But that will happen, and I can wait.

Ah, if I could look into the inside of people as you do, and put it on paper, and invent things for them to do and say, and tell how they said it, I could writs a fine and readable book now, for I’ve got a prime subject.  I’ve written 30,000 words of it and satisfied myself that the stuff is there; so I am going to discard that Ms and begin all over again and have a good time with it.

Oh, I know how you feel!  I’ve been in hell myself.  You are there tonight.  By difference in time you are at luncheon, now—­and not eating it.  Nothing is so lonesome as gadding around platforming.  I have declined 45 lectures to-day-England and Scotland.  I wanted the money, but not the torture:  Good luck to you!—­and repentance. 
                         With love to all of you
          
                                   mark.