The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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To Robert Fulton, in Reno, Nevada:  
IN THE MOUNTAINS,  
May 24, 1905.  
DEAR MR. FULTON,--I remember, as if it were yesterday, that when I  
disembarked from the overland stage in front of the Ormsby in Carson  
City in August, 1861, I was not expecting to be asked to come again.  
I was tired, discouraged, white with alkali dust, and did not know  
anybody; and if you had said then, "Cheer up, desolate stranger, don't  
be down-hearted--pass on, and come again in 1905," you cannot think  
how grateful I would have been and how gladly I would have closed the  
contract. Although I was not expecting to be invited, I was watching  
out for it, and was hurt and disappointed when you started to ask me and  
changed it to, "How soon are you going away?"  
But you have made it all right, now, the wound is closed. And so I thank  
you sincerely for the invitation; and with you, all Reno, and if I were  
a few years younger I would accept it, and promptly. I would go. I would  
let somebody else do the oration, but, as for me, I would talk--just  
talk. I would renew my youth; and talk--and talk--and talk--and have  
the time of my life! I would march the unforgotten and unforgettable  
antiques by, and name their names, and give them reverent  
Hailand-farewell as they passed: Goodman, McCarthy, Gillis, Curry,  
Baldwin, Winters, Howard, Nye, Stewart; Neely Johnson, Hal Clayton,  
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