two lines—a dateline and possibly a postscript—cut away

Those handsome impressions came just in the nick of time. When I telegraphed you a week ago, to tell me Beck’s opinion of the Twain-Snyder plates, I had an object in view, to-wit: If the utility of our invention was doubtful, I would allow my neighbor to go on digging his blamed cellar, & build a house right in our faces & shut off our eastward prospect—& in effect, block up the front of our house. If the utility of our invention was not doubtful, I could afford to say to him, “You can’t build there—discharge your workmen immediately; deed me the land; & send in your bill.” Well, his terms were twelve thousand dollars—rather too much, but he had me where the hair was short. I waited—keeping a good grip on my patience—& allowed a the cellar-digging to go on, deeper & deeper—but you see I wanted to be pretty certain. Those impressions arrived an hour ago, while we are were at breakfast. Well, the land is mine, now, & he has gone down town to draw up the deed!

Old Kaolatype is a bit expensive; but if it hadn’t been for K., we shouldn’t be in the bully brass business, you know.