Please address.—

Woodstock.—Windsor County.—Vermont.

Mrs Mary Margaret Field.—

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“Mark Twain.”—          Private & Confidential.

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Dear Sir.—

Will Mr Clemens burn this, as
soon as read, and keep its
contents a secret, from every
eye, except his own?—Ⓐemendation

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I write to you, because I have read sketches of yr life, and it seems to me, that, as you have raised yourself from obscurity and poverty, by your own talents and energy, you may feel some interest in the struggles of a Woman, who has supported herself, entirely, creditably, and honorably, by her pen, from the age of seventeen years.—

In England, in 1857–8—I wrote for Charles Dickens, and can refer you to my stories and poems in his Magazine, if you honor me with a reply to this note.—

Returning to America, my poverty compelled me to write Serials for the weekly papers,—of late years, I have received $1.000 for each Serial of 12 Parts.— Out of my earnings I have largely assisted relatives, who are poor;—have largely contributed to my church, and to the comfort of the poor;—have purchased land & houses in this town to the value of $3.700, which I still hold;—and, in 1873, had laid by a sufficient sum to enable me to drop Serial writing for some months, and to prepare higher and better work, in the shape of a Book.— The Panic came,—and at a moment’s warning, the Bank failed, and every penny of my savings was swept away.— I was taken ill directly after and was unable to write.— Recovering, in the winter, I stepped upon an icy stair, fell, and broke my arm,—and was unable to touch a pen again before the 1st May, 1874.——

These long months of illness plunged me in debt, to the amount of $400.—for medical attendance, household stores, service, &c.——As soon as I was able to write, I prepared a 12 Part Serial, & sent it to the paper for which I wrote.— They had overpaid me $300. in the previous year.— I asked them to deduct this sum,—for which they held no security, or acknowledgment of mine,—& to return me the balance— $700. They wrote that the story was accepted, & liked,—but said nothing of the money.— I had not one penny.— I tried to sell 10 acres of woodland, at a sacrifice, but could not, in the state of the money market.— Finally, I borrowed $15.00, of a friend, & went on to see my Editors.— They told me that the Panic had so cramped them that they cld no longer pay high prices,—that they cld purchase nothing more for months to come,—& that they cld only give me for the Mss.—the sum of $300.—which they had already overpaid, last year.——

So my Spring’s work,—written while I was scarcely able to hold my pen, was all lost to me!——

I have a fresh engagement, on another paper, but it will take me till September, to prepare another Serial.— Meanwhile, everyone needs their money, and I am in an agony of trouble, to think, that, after years of prompt & faithful payments, I am inconveniencing them, now.——

I have written to four of our leading prose writers, stating my case.—,One,—well known to you, personally, promptly enclosed his checque for $100.—on receipt of my letter, and took only my note, as security, refusing to accept interest.— I have never seen him, and he knows nothing of me, except what my letter told him.— From two others I expect to hear, daily.— You are the fourth whom I have thus addressed.——

I have thought, that some memory of the days when you knew what it was, to be poor, and harassed, may lead you to extend a helping hand to me, in my hour of sorest need.— Till now I have “paddled my own canoe” asking no aid from anyone.— But this is a dark and sorrowful time,—my heart lies heavy in my breast, and all the beauty of the summer is spoiled, for me, by the thought of the debts that I am powerless to pay.——

If you are willing to loan me $100.—for five or six months, as the friend I have named above, has done, I will return my note, for that amount, and can offer you, as security, one diamond ring, worth $50.—bought of Crosby & Morse, (Boston) two years ago, but only worn once since.— Also an Elgin-gentleman’s watch, (the G. M. Wheeler) in perfect running order,—silver case,—worth $33.00.— This wld represent $83. of the loan.— While I live, I would be “sawn asunder” before I wld delay the return of the money, at the time named;—and, if I die suddenly, my property here, will cover everything I owe, over & over again.—

I ask this favor of successful Authors, because I know that many have been helped, in this way,—and because, if I attempt to raise the money here, it will cause much gossip, from those who have somewhat enviously watched my course, heretofore,—and pronounced it rather wonderful, for a woman, alone & unaided, but “a thing that cannot last.”— Before these people, I dread to seem to fail;—and there is no need of so doing, if, from my more successful “brethren of the quill,” I can obtain the small temporary help I need.——

If you answer this, (and I am sure you are too courteous not to answer, in one way or another.—) I will answer any questions you may ask,—will give you my writing name,—references as to my respectability,—and, if you wish it, a certificate from the Town Clerk, here, as to the nature & extent of my property on the Records.— I will also give the name of the Author who has already so generously loaned me $100. till November next.——

If I can get this assistance, I can go on with a Christmas Story, which I wish to issue, in pamphlet form, in Dec. next.— By that Story, I hope to raise myself from the lower ground to which poverty, so far, has condemned me, and to “go up higher” in the profession which I have chosen.— It is my earnest wish to dedicate that little Book to the friends who come to my aid, now. Will you allow me to place your name upon the dedicatory page?— I lived 9½ years in England,—I married an English gentleman,—& I feel sure, that, with my experience of social life there, on the Continent, & in Egypt, I can write a Xmas tale, which will “take”,—& which you will not be ashamed to see in connection with the name you have already made famous all over the world.— I shall watch the mails, most anxiously for yr reply to this letter, and, of whatever nature it may be, let me beg you to send an answer, at yr earliest convenience.—If you feel disposed to assist me, I shall look upon you as an Angel of Consolation in the hour of bitterest need.—I am ready to give the fullest & frankest information about myself,—and can offer references of the most satisfactory kind,—but refrain, now, as this letter is already very long.—

I cannot tell you how earnestly I pray that your heart may be moved to assist me.—In your happy home,—wealthy, fortunate, famous and beloved, as you now are, you may have forgotten the old days of struggle.—Yet call them up once more, for a moment, to your mind, & for their sake, & because of the knowledge of suffering they gave you, have compassion on me,—for indeed, my distress is very deep, & genuine, and I know not which may to turn for relief,—