1. Read the enclosed, then send it to 2then see Osgood & show it to him—3then mail my letter to Leathers; 4, have Osgood send Leathers a check for $10 (not by the same day mail, but next mail, say; 5, preserve Leathers’s letter & the envelop (addresses his ragship as “Col.,” & leaves off the “Mr.” from his friend’s name). Of course I am responsible for the $25—I stand behind Osgood.

Now, here is my little game: I won’t have this tramp under my roof, nor on my hands; yet at the same time he is a pe is a perfectly stunning literary bonanza, & must be dug up & put on the market. You must get his entire biography out of him, & have it ready for Osgood’s new magazine. Even if it isn’t worth printing you must have it, anyway, so as to & use it one of these days in one of your stories or in a play. Yes, & you must SEE him & talk with him, too—not at your house, but at Osgood’s store (or in the Earl’s quarters in N. Y.—which is better still, if it could be managed.) You would point out to him places in his MS. where he from self-love he had left out interesting d stuff—hadn’t entered into detail sufficiently, etc.

YOU are protected—you can act under cold business orders from Osgood, & keep the thing on a cold business basis from first to last; but my case is different, the bond being blood-kinship & sentiment.

I’ve an idea that this bummer (judging by that envelop & other things) will write an inflated lot of rot that will make delicious reading. I know it—for I read one of his political articles written when he was “working” for the Dem. party at $28 for 4 months.

Come, hurry along down here just the earliest minute you can.

cross-written over previous paragraphs:

If you won’t see him, Osgood must.