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am to remain there a month and ransack the islands, the great cataracts
and the volcanoes completely, and write twenty or thirty letters to the
Sacramento Union--for which they pay me as much money as I would get if
I staid at home.
If I come back here I expect to start straight across the continent by
way of the Columbia river, the Pend d'Oreille Lakes, through Montana
and down the Missouri river,--only 200 miles of land travel from San
Francisco to New Orleans.
Goodbye for the present.
Yours,
SAM.
His home letters from the islands are numerous enough; everything
there being so new and so delightful that he found joy in telling of
it; also, he was still young enough to air his triumphs a little,
especially when he has dined with the Grand Chamberlain and is going
to visit the King!
The languorous life of the islands exactly suited Mask Twain. All
his life he remembered them--always planning to return, some day, to
stay there until he died. In one of his note-books he wrote: "Went
with Mr. Dam to his cool, vine-shaded home; no care-worn or eager,
anxious faces in this land of happy contentment. God, what a
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