Hartford, Friday, 1877.  My dear Howells,—­Your letter was a godsend; and perhaps the welcomest part of it was your consent that I write to those gentlemen; for you discouraged my hints in that direction that morning in Boston—­rightly, too, for my offense was yet too new, then.  Warner has tried to hold up our hands like the good fellow he is, but poor Twichell could not say a word, and confessed that he would rather take nearly any punishment than face Livy and me.  He hasn’t been here since.

It is curious, but I pitched early upon Mr. Norton as the very man who would think some generous thing about that matter, whether he said it or not.  It is splendid to be a man like that—­but it is given to few to be.

I wrote a letter yesterday, and sent a copy to each of the three.  I wanted to send a copy to Mr. Whittier also, since the offense was done also against him, being committed in his presence and he the guest of the occasion, besides holding the well-nigh sacred place he does in his people’s estimation; but I didn’t know whether to venture or not, and so ended by doing nothing.  It seemed an intrusion to approach him, and even Livy seemed to have her doubts as to the best and properest way to do in the case.  I do not reverence Mr. Emerson less, but somehow I could approach him easier.

Send me those proofs, if you have got them handy; I want to submit them to Wylie; he won’t show them to anybody.

Had a very pleasant and considerate letter from Mr. Houghton, today, and was very glad to receive it.

You can’t imagine how brilliant and beautiful that new brass fender is, and how perfectly naturally it takes its place under the carved oak.  How they did scour it up before they sent it!  I lied a good deal about it when I came home—­so for once I kept a secret and surprised Livy on a Christmas morning!

I haven’t done a stroke of work since the Atlantic dinner; have only moped around.  But I’m going to try tomorrow.  How could I ever have.

Ah, well, I am a great and sublime fool.  But then I am God’s fool, and all His works must be contemplated with respect.

Livy and I join in the warmest regards to you and yours,
                                        Yrs ever,
          
                                        mark.

Longfellow, in his reply, said:  “I do not believe anybody was much hurt.  Certainly I was not, and Holmes tells me he was not.  So I think you may dismiss the matter from your mind without further remorse.”

Holmes wrote:  “It never occurred to me for a moment to take offense, or feel wounded by your playful use of my name.”

Miss Ellen Emerson replied for her father (in a letter to Mrs. Clemens) that the speech had made no impression upon him, giving at considerable length the impression it had made on herself and other members of the family.