Philadelphia, Dec. 5, ’53.  My dear sister,—­I have already written two letters within the last two hours, and you will excuse me if this is not lengthy.  If I had the money, I would come to St. Louis now, while the river is open; but within the last two or three weeks I have spent about thirty dollars for clothing, so I suppose I shall remain where I am.  I only want to return to avoid night-work, which is injuring my eyes.  I have received one or two letters from home, but they are not written as they should be, and I know no more about what is going on there than the man in the moon.  One only has to leave home to learn how to write an interesting letter to an absent friend when he gets back.  I suppose you board at Mrs. Hunter’s yet—­and that, I think, is somewhere in Olive street above Fifth.  Philadelphia is one of the healthiest places in the Union.  I wanted to spend this winter in a warm climate, but it is too late now.  I don’t like our present prospect for cold weather at all. 
                                   Truly your brother
          
                                             Sam.

But he did not return to the West for another half year.  The letters he wrote during that period have not survived.  It was late in the summer of 1854 when he finally started for St. Louis.  He sat up for three days and nights in a smoking-car to make the journey, and arrived exhausted.  The river packet was leaving in a few hours for Muscatine, Iowa, where his mother and his two brothers were now located.  He paid his sister a brief visit, and caught the boat.  Worn-out, he dropped into his berth and slept the thirty-six hours of the journey.

It was early when-he arrived—­too early to arouse the family.  In the office of the little hotel where he waited for daylight he found a small book.  It contained portraits of the English rulers, with the brief facts of their reigns.  Young Clemens entertained himself by learning this information by heart.  He had a fine memory for such things, and in an hour or two had the printed data perfectly and permanently committed.  This incidentally acquired knowledge proved of immense value to him.  It was his groundwork for all English history.

II

LETTERS 1856-61.  KEOKUK, AND THE RIVER.  END OF PILOTING

There comes a period now of nearly four years, when Samuel Clemens was either a poor correspondent or his letters have not been preserved.  Only two from this time have survived—­happily of intimate biographical importance.

Young Clemens had not remained in Muscatine.  His brother had no inducements to offer, and he presently returned to St. Louis, where he worked as a compositor on the Evening News until the following spring, rooming with a young man named Burrough, a journeyman chair-maker with a taste