I am old; I recognize it but I don’t realize it.  I wonder if a person ever really ceases to feel young—­I mean, for a whole day at a time.  My love to you both, and to all of us that are left. 
          
                                        Mark.

Though he used very little liquor of any kind, it was Mark Twain’s custom to keep a bottle of Scotch whiskey with his collection of pipes and cigars and tobacco on a little table by his bed-side.  During restless nights he found a small quantity of it conducive to sleep.  Andrew Carnegie, learning of this custom, made it his business to supply Scotch of his own special importation.  The first case came, direct from Scotland.  When it arrived Clemens sent this characteristic acknowledgment.

To Andrew Carnegie, in Scotland: 

21 Fifth ave.  Feb. 10, ’06.  Dear st. Andrew,—­The whisky arrived in due course from over the water; last week one bottle of it was extracted from the wood and inserted into me, on the instalment plan, with this result:  that I believe it to be the best, smoothest whisky now on the planet.  Thanks, oh, thanks:  I have discarded Peruna.

Hoping that you three are well and happy and will be coming back before
the winter sets in. 
                         I am,
                              Sincerely yours,
          
                              mark.

It must have been a small bottle to be consumed by him in a week, or perhaps he had able assistance.  The next brief line refers to the manuscript of his article, “Saint Joan of Arc,” presented to the museum at Rouen.

To Edward E. Clarke: 

21 Fifth ave., Feb., 1906.  Dear sir,—­I have found the original manuscript and with great pleasure I transmit it herewith, also a printed copy.

It is a matter of great pride to me to have any word of mine concerning
the world’s supremest heroine honored by a place in that Museum. 
                         Sincerely yours,
                                   S. L. Clemens.

The series of letters which follows was prepared by Mark Twain and General Fred Grant, mainly with a view of advertising the lecture that Clemens had agreed to deliver for the benefit of the Robert Fulton Monument Association.  It was, in fact, to be Mark Twain’s “farewell lecture,” and the association had really proposed to pay him a thousand dollars for it.  The exchange of these letters, however, was never made outside of Mark Twain’s bed-room.  Propped against the pillows, pen in hand, with General Grant beside him, they arranged the series with the idea of publication.  Later the plan was discarded, so that this pleasant foolery appears here for the first, time.

Privateand confidential

(Correspondence)