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So, you see, even she knows how to appreciate our gifts.
Brisk times here.--Saturday, these things happened: Our neighbor
Chas. Smith was stricken with heart disease, and came near joining the
majority; my publisher, Bliss, ditto, ditto; a neighbor's child died;
neighbor Whitmore's sixth child added to his five other cases of
measles; neighbor Niles sent for, and responded; Susie Warner down,
abed; Mrs. George Warner threatened with death during several hours; her
son Frank, whilst imitating the marvels in Barnum's circus bills, thrown
from his aged horse and brought home insensible: Warner's friend Max
Yortzburgh, shot in the back by a locomotive and broken into 32 distinct
pieces and his life threatened; and Mrs. Clemens, after writing all
these cheerful things to Clara Spaulding, taken at midnight, and if the
doctor had not been pretty prompt the contemplated Clemens would have
called before his apartments were ready.
However, everybody is all right, now, except Yortzburg, and he is
mending--that is, he is being mended. I knocked off, during these
stirring times, and don't intend to go to work again till we go away
for the Summer, 3 or 6 weeks hence. So I am writing to you not because
I have anything to say, but because you don't have to answer and I need
something to do this afternoon.....
I have a letter from a Congressman this morning, and he says Congress
couldn't be persuaded to bother about Canadian pirates at a time
like this when all legislation must have a political and Presidential
550
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