The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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I found the Swiss note-book, some time ago. When it was first lost I  
was glad of it, for I was getting an idea that I had lost my faculty of  
writing sketches of travel; therefore the loss of that note-book would  
render the writing of this one simply impossible, and let me gracefully  
out; I was about to write to Bliss and propose some other book, when the  
confounded thing turned up, and down went my heart into my boots. But  
there was now no excuse, so I went solidly to work--tore up a great part  
of the MS written in Heidelberg,--wrote and tore up,--continued to write  
and tear up,--and at last, reward of patient and noble persistence, my  
pen got the old swing again!  
Since then I'm glad Providence knew better what to do with the Swiss  
note-book than I did, for I like my work, now, exceedingly, and often  
turn out over 30 MS pages a day and then quit sorry that Heaven makes  
the days so short.  
One of my discouragements had been the belief that my interest in this  
tour had been so slender that I couldn't gouge matter enough out of it  
to make a book. What a mistake. I've got 900 pages written (not a word  
in it about the sea voyage) yet I stepped my foot out of Heidelberg for  
the first time yesterday,--and then only to take our party of four  
on our first pedestrian tour--to Heilbronn. I've got them dressed  
elaborately in walking costume--knapsacks, canteens, field-glasses,  
leather leggings, patent walking shoes, muslin folds around their hats,  
with long tails hanging down behind, sun umbrellas, and Alpenstocks.  
500  


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