They are all well in this family, and we all send love. 
                                   Affly Your Son
          
                                        Sam.

The ways of city officials and corporations are often past understanding, and Mark Twain sometimes found it necessary to write picturesque letters of protest.  The following to a Hartford lighting company is a fair example of these documents.

To a gas and electric-lighting company, in Hartford: 

Gentlemen,—­There are but two places in our whole street where lights could be of any value, by any accident, and you have measured and appointed your intervals so ingeniously as to leave each of those places in the centre of a couple of hundred yards of solid darkness.  When I noticed that you were setting one of your lights in such a way that I could almost see how to get into my gate at night, I suspected that it was a piece of carelessness on the part of the workmen, and would be corrected as soon as you should go around inspecting and find it out.  My judgment was right; it is always right, when you axe concerned.  For fifteen years, in spite of my prayers and tears, you persistently kept a gas lamp exactly half way between my gates, so that I couldn’t find either of them after dark; and then furnished such execrable gas that I had to hang a danger signal on the lamp post to keep teams from running into it, nights.  Now I suppose your present idea is, to leave us a little more in the dark.

Don’t mind us—­out our way; we possess but one vote apiece, and no rights which you are in any way bound to respect.  Please take your electric light and go to—­but never mind, it is not for me to suggest; you will probably find the way; and any way you can reasonably count on divine assistance if you lose your bearings.

S. L. Clemens.

[Etext Editor’s Note:  Twain wrote another note to Hartford Gas and Electric, which he may not have mailed and which Paine does not include in these volumes:  “Gentleman:—­Someday you are going to move me almost to the point of irritation with your God-damned chuckle headed fashion of turning off your God-damned gas without giving notice to your God-damned parishioners—­and you did it again last night—­” D.W.]

Frequently Clemens did not send letters of this sort after they were written.  Sometimes he realized the uselessness of such protest, sometimes the mere writing of them had furnished the necessary relief, and he put, the letter away, or into the wastebasket, and wrote something more temperate, or nothing at all.  A few such letters here follow.

Clemens was all the time receiving application from people who wished him to recommend one article or another; books, plays, tobacco, and what not.  They were generally persistent people, unable to accept a polite or kindly denial.  Once he set down some remarks on this particular phase of correspondence.  He wrote: 

I