Twains Letters vol 3 1876-1885 | Page 9

smaller and prettier article. She did not complain, but looked
degraded and injured. At night her mamma gave her the usual
admonition when she was about to say her prayers--to wit:
"Now, Susie--think about God."
"Mamma, I can't, with those shoes."
The farm is perfectly delightful this season. It is as quiet and peaceful
as a South Sea Island. Some of the sunsets which we have witnessed
from this commanding eminence were marvelous. One evening a
rainbow spanned an entire range of hills with its mighty arch, and from
a black hub resting upon the hill-top in the exact centre, black rays
diverged upward in perfect regularity to the rainbow's arch and created
a very strongly defined and altogether the most majestic, magnificent
and startling half-sunk wagon wheel you can imagine. After that, a
world of tumbling and prodigious clouds came drifting up out of the
West and took to themselves a wonderfully rich and brilliant green
color--the decided green of new spring foliage. Close by them we saw
the intense blue of the skies, through rents in the cloud-rack, and away
off in another quarter were drifting clouds of a delicate pink color. In
one place hung a pall of dense black clouds, like compacted
pitch-smoke. And the stupendous wagon wheel was still in the
supremacy of its unspeakable grandeur. So you see, the colors present
in the sky at once and the same time were blue, green, pink, black, and
the vari-colored splendors of the rainbow. All strong and decided colors,
too. I don't know whether this weird and astounding spectacle most
suggested heaven, or hell. The wonder, with its constant, stately, and

always surprising changes, lasted upwards of two hours, and we all
stood on the top of the hill by my study till the final miracle was
complete and the greatest day ended that we ever saw.
Our farmer, who is a grave man, watched that spectacle to the end, and
then observed that it was "dam funny."
The double-barreled novel lies torpid. I found I could not go on with it.
The chapters I had written were still too new and familiar to me. I may
take it up next winter, but cannot tell yet; I waited and waited to see if
my interest in it would not revive, but gave it up a month ago and
began another boys' book--more to be at work than anything else. I
have written 400 pages on it--therefore it is very nearly half done. It is
Huck Finn's Autobiography. I like it only tolerably well, as far as I
have got, and may possibly pigeonhole or burn the MS when it is done.
So the comedy is done, and with a "fair degree of satisfaction." That
rejoices me, and makes me mad, too--for I can't plan a comedy, and
what have you done that God should be so good to you? I have racked
myself baldheaded trying to plan a comedy harness for some promising
characters of mine to work in, and had to give it up. It is a noble lot of
blooded stock and worth no end of money, but they must stand in the
stable and be profitless. I want to be present when the comedy is
produced and help enjoy the success.
Warner's book is mighty readable, I think. Love to yez. Yrs ever
MARK
Howells promptly wrote again, urging him to enter the campaign for
Hayes. "There is not another man in this country," he said, "who could
help him so much as you." The "farce" which Clemens refers to in his
reply, was "The Parlor Car," which seems to have been about the first
venture of Howells in that field.
To W. D. Howells, in Boston:
ELMIRA, August 23, 1876. MY DEAR HOWELLS,--I am glad you
think I could do Hayes any good, for I have been wanting to write a
letter or make a speech to that end. I'll be careful not to do either,
however, until the opportunity comes in a natural, justifiable and
unlugged way; and shall not then do anything unless I've got it all
digested and worded just right. In which case I might do some good--in
any other I should do harm. When a humorist ventures upon the grave
concerns of life he must do his job better than another man or he works

harm to his cause.
The farce is wonderfully bright and delicious, and must make a hit.
You read it to me, and it was mighty good; I read it last night and it was
better; I read it aloud to the household this morning and it was better
than ever. So it would be worth going a long way to see it well played;
for without any question an actor of genius always adds