Well, old practical joker, the corpse of Mr. B. has been here, & I have bedded it & fed it, & put down my work during 24 hours & tried my level best to make it do something, or say something, or appreciate something—or even stink—–but no, it was worse than Lazarus. A kind-heartedⒶemendation, well-meaning corpse with was this Boston young man, but lawsy bless me, horribly tir dull company. Now old man, unless you have great confidence in Mr. B. s judgment, you ought to make him submit his article to you before he prints it. For only think how true I was to you: Every hour that he was here I was saying, gloatingly, “O G—  d you, when you are in bed & your light out, I will fix you” (meaning to kill him)—but then the thought would follow—“No, Howells sent him—he shall be spared, he shall be respected—he shall travel hellwardsⒶemendation by his own route.”

Breakfast is frozen by this time, & Mrs. Clemens correspondingly hot. Goodbye