It is most kind of you. I fully believed you would understand & appreciate my position; indeed I may almost say I knew it; yet as I could not absolutely know it, it is most pleasing & comforting to have my conviction turned to certainty by your own words. ⟦I got both telegram & letter.⟧

I had a fight for it, to hold to my resolution; for up to the hour of my departure from here the night of the 23d, Mrs. Clemens was full of misgivings as to the righteousness of my course, & tried hard to get me to change my route & go to Ashfield. Consequently I went away from here feeling like a right shabby criminal—but at the same time never doubting for a moment that I was doing the wise thing. I reached Albany early in the morning; Hartford at noon; Boston at 6 p.m. Early Thursday morning I sent down for the papers; glanced at the cheery display-headings, & said, “There, I knew how it would be; I have saved the President’s life; history will never know it, or mention it, but the fact remains, just the same; now my judgment is justified, & my conscience is at rest; if I were in AhshfieldⒶemendation, now, he w there would be a very different sort of headings to these telegrams.” For I don’t mind confessing that a life-long superstition of mine (& it exists in most people, doubtless), had had a fair some share in making me afraid to go to Ashfield. It is that superstition which moves one to be wa chary of even mentioning a very great & strong desire, or even thinking formulating it distinctly in the mind, lest the perverse & watchful fates step instantly forward with an “Oho, that is what you want, is it?—then you cannot have it.” You know, if a German forgets himself & suddenly lets slip a strong desire, he immediately protects himself by exclaiming “Unberufen!”—otherwise, the evil spirits, having discovered the desire of his heart, would set themselves at work, right away, to and smash it.

Then came Friday’s dreadful news; & when I imagined an extract from my proposed speech grinning at me out of the midst of those long columns of heavy tidings—all the world bowed & mourning, & I alone laughing—I was inexpressibly glad that I had held to my purpose & broken my engagement. Howells & I often spoken of it as we moved all along the streets breaking our hearts over those ghastly bulletin boards & watching the domes & pinnacles for that dreaded sign, the flag at half-mast. What a difference between that day & this! (Unberufen!—no more under that head, lest disaster come of it.)

Yes, I will redeem my promise at a future time, with the greatest pleasure. And I wish I might hope for a chance to pay you the before-October visit, too, but I suppose we can’t return home before Oct. 1st, because our house is full of joiners, masons & plumbers, & they say that if they let us in Oct. 1, it will be the best they can do.