The “fat” is old pigeon-holed things, of the years gone by, which I or editors didn’t das’t to print.  For instance, I am dumping in the little old book which I read to you in Hartford about 30 years ago and which you said “publish—­and ask Dean Stanley to furnish an introduction; he’ll do it.” ("Captain Stormfield’s Visit to Heaven.”) It reads quite to suit me, without altering a word, now that it isn’t to see print until I am dead.

To-morrow I mean to dictate a chapter which will get my heirs and assigns burnt alive if they venture to print it this side of 2006 A.D.—­which I judge they won’t.  There’ll be lots of such chapters if I live 3 or 4 years longer.  The edition of A.D. 2006 will make a stir when it comes out.  I shall be hovering around taking notice, along with other dead pals.  You are invited. 
                                   Mark.

     His tendency to estimate the measure of the work he was doing, and
     had completed, must have clung to him from his old printer days.

The chapter which was to get his heirs and assigns burned alive was on the orthodox God, and there was more than one such chapter.  In the next letter he refers to two exquisite poems by Howells, and the writer of these notes recalls his wonderful reading of them aloud.  ‘In Our Town’ was a collection of short stories then recently issued by William Allen White.  Howells had recommended them.

To W. D. Howells, in Maine: 

21 Fifth ave., Tuesday Eve.  Dear Howells,—­It is lovely of you to say those beautiful things—­I don’t know how to thank you enough.  But I love you, that I know.

I read “After the Wedding” aloud and we felt all the pain of it and the truth.  It was very moving and very beautiful—­would have been over-comingly moving, at times, but for the haltings and pauses compelled by the difficulties of Ms—­these were a protection, in that they furnished me time to brace up my voice, and get a new start.  Jean wanted to keep the Ms for another reading-aloud, and for “keeps,” too, I suspected, but I said it would be safest to write you about it.

I like “In Our Town,” particularly that Colonel, of the Lookout Mountain Oration, and very particularly pages 212-16.  I wrote and told White so.

After “After the Wedding” I read “The Mother” aloud and sounded its human deeps with your deep-sea lead.  I had not read it before, since it was first published.

I have been dictating some fearful things, for 4 successive mornings—­for no eye but yours to see until I have been dead a century—­if then.  But I got them out of my system, where they had been festering for years—­and that was the main thing.  I feel better, now.

I came down today on business—­from house to house in 12 1/2 hours, and
expected to arrive dead, but am neither tired nor sleepy. 
                         Yours as always
                                             mark.