The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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I'm the "firm," you know.  
"
How long does it take one of those infernal trains to go through?"  
Well, anywhere between three and five months.  
Tell Margaret that if you ever come to live in California, that you  
can promise her a home for a hundred years, and a bully one--but she  
wouldn't like the country. Some people are malicious enough to think  
that if the devil were set at liberty and told to confine himself  
to Nevada Territory, that he would come here--and look sadly around,  
awhile, and then get homesick and go back to hell again. But I hardly  
believe it, you know. I am saying, mind you, that Margaret wouldn't  
like the country, perhaps--nor the devil either, for that matter, or any  
other man but I like it. When it rains here, it never lets up till it  
has done all the raining it has got to do--and after that, there's a dry  
spell, you bet. Why, I have had my whiskers and moustaches so full of  
alkali dust that you'd have thought I worked in a starch factory and  
boarded in a flour barrel.  
Since we have been here there has not been a fire--although the houses  
are built of wood. They "holler" fire sometimes, though, but I am always  
too late to see the smoke before the fire is out, if they ever have any.  
Now they raised a yell here in front of the office a moment ago. I put  
away my papers, and locked up everything of value, and changed my boots,  
and pulled off my coat, and went and got a bucket of water, and came  
back to see what the matter was, remarking to myself, "I guess I'll be  
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Quick Jump
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