Twains Letters vol 3 1876-1885 | Page 5

to cut the
Sunday school speech down to the first two sentences, leaving no
suggestion of satire, since the book is to be for boys and girls; I tamed
the various obscenities until I judged that they no longer carried offense.
So, at a single sitting I began and finished a revision which I had
supposed would occupy 3 or 4. days and leave me mentally and

physically fagged out at the end. I was careful not to inflict the MS
upon you until I had thoroughly and painstakingly revised it. Therefore,
the only faults left were those that would discover themselves to others,
not me--and these you had pointed out.
There was one expression which perhaps you overlooked. When Huck
is complaining to Tom of the rigorous system in vogue at the widow's,
he says the servants harass him with all manner of compulsory
decencies, and he winds up by saying: "and they comb me all to hell."
(No exclamation point.) Long ago, when I read that to Mrs. Clemens,
she made no comment; another time I created occasion to read that
chapter to her aunt and her mother (both sensitive and loyal subjects of
the kingdom of heaven, so to speak) and they let it pass. I was glad, for
it was the most natural remark in the world for that boy to make (and
he had been allowed few privileges of speech in the book;) when I saw
that you, too, had let it go without protest, I was glad, and afraid;
too--afraid you hadn't observed it. Did you? And did you question the
propriety of it? Since the book is now professedly and confessedly a
boy's and girl's hook, that darn word bothers me some, nights, but it
never did until I had ceased to regard the volume as being for adults.
Don't bother to answer now, (for you've writing enough to do without
allowing me to add to the burden,) but tell me when you see me again!
Which we do hope will be next Saturday or Sunday or Monday.
Couldn't you come now and mull over the alterations which you are
going to make in your MS, and make them after you go back? Wouldn't
it assist the work if you dropped out of harness and routine for a day or
two and have that sort of revivification which comes of a
holiday-forgetfulness of the work-shop? I can always work after I've
been to your house; and if you will come to mine, now, and hear the
club toot their various horns over the exasperating metaphysical
question which I mean to lay before them in the disguise of a literary
extravaganza, it would just brace you up like a cordial.
(I feel sort of mean trying to persuade a man to put down a critical
piece of work at a critical time, but yet I am honest in thinking it would
not hurt the work nor impair your interest in it to come under the
circumstances.) Mrs. Clemens says, "Maybe the Howellses could come
Monday if they cannot come Saturday; ask them; it is worth trying."
Well, how's that? Could you? It would be splendid if you could. Drop

me a postal card--I should have a twinge of conscience if I forced you
to write a letter, (I am honest about that,)--and if you find you can't
make out to come, tell me that you bodies will come the next Saturday
if the thing is possible, and stay over Sunday. Yrs ever MARK.
Howells, however, did not come to the club meeting, but promised to
come soon when they could have a quiet time to themselves together.
As to Huck's language, he declared:
"I'd have that swearing out in an instant. I suppose I didn't notice it
because the locution was so familiar to my Western sense, and so
exactly the thing that Huck would say." Clemens changed the phrase to,
"They comb me all to thunder," and so it stands to-day.
The "Carnival of Crime," having served its purpose at the club, found
quick acceptance by Howells for the Atlantic. He was so pleased with it,
in fact, that somewhat later he wrote, urging that its author allow it to
be printed in a dainty book, by Osgood, who made a specialty of fine
publishing. Meantime Howells had written his Atlantic notice of Tom
Sawyer, and now inclosed Clemens a proof of it. We may judge from
the reply that it was satisfactory.
To W. D. Howells, in Boston:
Apl 3, '76. MY DEAR HOWELLS,--It is a splendid notice and will
embolden weak-kneed journalistic admirers to speak out, and will
modify or shut up the unfriendly. To "fear God and dread the Sunday
school" exactly described that old feeling which I used to have, but