The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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Dec. 30, '98.  
DEAR HOWELLS,--I begin with a date--including all the details--though  
I shall be interrupted presently by a South-African acquaintance who is  
passing through, and it may be many days before I catch another  
leisure moment. Note how suddenly a thing can become habit, and how  
indestructible the habit is, afterward! In your house in Cambridge a  
hundred years ago, Mrs. Howells said to me, "Here is a bunch of your  
letters, and the dates are of no value, because you don't put any  
in--the years, anyway." That remark diseased me with a habit which has  
cost me worlds of time and torture and ink, and millions of vain efforts  
and buckets of tears to break it, and here it is yet--I could easier get  
rid of a virtue.....  
I hope it will interest you (for I have no one else who would much  
care to know it) that here lately the dread of leaving the children  
in difficult circumstances has died down and disappeared and I am now  
having peace from that long, long nightmare, and can sleep as well as  
anyone. Every little while, for these three years, now, Mrs. Clemens has  
come with pencil and paper and figured up the condition of things (she  
keeps the accounts and the bank-book) and has proven to me that the  
clouds were lifting, and so has hoisted my spirits temporarily and kept  
me going till another figuring-up was necessary. Last night she figured  
up for her own satisfaction, not mine, and found that we own a house and  
furniture in Hartford; that my English and American copyrights pay an  
income which represents a value of $200,000; and that we have $107,000  
986  


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