The bill which was before the committee two years ago when I was down there was the most stupefying jumble of conflicting and apparently irreconcilable interests that was ever seen; and we all said “the case is hopeless, absolutely hopeless—­out of this chaos nothing can be built.”  But we were in error; out of that chaotic mass this excellent bill has been instructed; the warring interests have been reconciled, and the result is as comely and substantial a legislative edifice as lifts its domes and towers and protective lightning rods out of the statute book, I think.  When I think of that other bill, which even the Deity couldn’t understand, and of this one which even I can understand, I take off my hat to the man or men who devised this one.  Was it R. U. Johnson?  Was it the Author’s League?  Was it both together?  I don’t know, but I take off my hat, anyway.  Johnson has written a valuable article about the new law—­I enclose it.

At last—­at last and for the first time in copyright history we are ahead of England!  Ahead of her in two ways:  by length of time and by fairness to all interests concerned.  Does this sound like shouting?  Then I must modify it:  all we possessed of copyright-justice before the fourth of last March we owed to England’s initiative. 
                                   Truly Yours,
                                        S. L. Clemens.

Because Mark Twain amused himself with certain aspects of Christian Science, and was critical of Mrs. Eddy, there grew up a wide impression that he jeered at the theory of mental healing; when, as a matter of fact, he was one of its earliest converts, and never lost faith in its power.  The letter which follows is an excellent exposition of his attitude toward the institution of Christian Science and the founder of the church in America.

To J. Wylie Smith, Glasgow, Scotland: 

“Stormfield,” August 7, 1909 dear sir,—­My view of the matter has not changed.  To wit, that Christian Science is valuable; that it has just the same value now that it had when Mrs. Eddy stole it from Quimby; that its healing principle (its most valuable asset) possesses the same force now that it possessed a million years ago before Quimby was born; that Mrs. Eddy. . . organized that force, and is entitled to high credit for that.  Then, with a splendid sagacity she hitched it to. . . a religion, the surest of all ways to secure friends for it, and support.  In a fine and lofty way —­figuratively speaking—­it was a tramp stealing a ride on the lightning express.  Ah, how did that ignorant village-born peasant woman know the human being so well?  She has no more intellect than a tadpole—­until it comes to business then she is a marvel!  Am I sorry I wrote the book?  Most certainly not.  You say you have 500 (converts) in Glasgow.  Fifty years from now, your posterity will not count them by the hundred, but by the thousand.  I feel absolutely sure of this. 
                         Very truly yours,
                                   S. L. Clemens.