that life, no aches and pains, and not time enough in the day (and three-fourths of the night) to work off one’s surplus vigor and energy.  Of the mid-night highway robbery joke played upon me with revolvers at my head on the windswept and desolate Gold Hill Divide, no witness is left but me, the victim.  All the friendly robbers are gone.  These old fools last night laughed till they cried over the particulars of that old forgotten crime.

John Mackay has no family here but a pet monkey—­a most affectionate and winning little devil.  But he makes trouble for the servants, for he is full of curiosity and likes to take everything out of the drawers and examine it minutely; and he puts nothing back.  The examinations of yesterday count for nothing to-day—­he makes a new examination every day.  But he injures nothing.

I went with Laffan to the Racquet Club the other night and played, billiards two hours without starting up any rheumatism.  I suppose it was all really taken out of me in Berlin.

Richard Harding Davis spoke yesterday of Clara’s impersonations at Mrs. Van Rensselaer’s here and said they were a wonderful piece of work.

Livy dear, I do hope you are comfortable, as to quarters and food at the Hotel Brighton.  But if you’re not don’t stay there.  Make one more effort—­don’t give it up.  Dear heart, this is from one who loves you —­which is Saml.

It was decided that Rogers and Clemens should make a trip to Chicago to investigate personally the type-setter situation there.  Clemens reports the details of the excursion to Mrs. Clemens in a long subdivided letter, most of which has no general interest and is here omitted.  The trip, as a whole, would seem to have been satisfactory.  The personal portions of the long Christmas letter may properly be preserved.

To Mrs. Clemens, in Paris: 

Theplayers, Xmas, 1893. 
No. 1. 
Merry Xmas, my darling, and all my darlings!  I arrived from Chicago close upon midnight last night, and wrote and sent down my Christmas cablegram before undressing:  “Merry Xmas!  Promising progress made in Chicago.”  It would get to the telegraph office toward 8 this morning and reach you at luncheon.

I was vaguely hoping, all the past week, that my Xmas cablegram would be definite, and make you all jump with jubilation; but the thought always intruded itself, “You are not going out there to negotiate with a man, but with a louse.  This makes results uncertain.”

I was asleep as Christmas struck upon the clock at mid night, and didn’t wake again till two hours ago.  It is now half past 10 Xmas morning; I have had my coffee and bread, and shan’t get out of bed till it is time to dress for Mrs. Laflan’s Christmas dinner this evening—­where I shall meet Bram Stoker and must make sure about that photo with Irving’s autograph.  I will get the picture and he will attend to the rest.  In order to remember and not forget—­well, I will go there with my dress coat wrong side out; it will cause remark and then I shall remember.