made an unintentional pun in my life, & shall not begin now.

P

Well, mamma, dear, the child is born. To-night I read the new piece—the piece which Clara Spaulding’s impassibility dashed & destroyed a few months ago—& it’s the biggest card I’ve got in my whole repertoire. I always thought so;. It went a-boomingⒶemendation; & Cable’s praises are not merely loud, they are boisterous. Says its literary quality is high & fine—& great; its truth to boy nature unchallengeable; its humor constant & delightful; & its dramatic close full of stir, & boom, & go. Well, he has stated it very correctly. It took me 45 minutes to recite it, without (didn’t use any notes) & it hadn’t a doubtful place in it, or a silent spot. Ah, if it goes like that in its crude rude state, how won’t it go when I get it well in hand? & I make 2 separate readings of it, & Cable sings a couple of songs in the middle.

Come to think, I guess Clara never heard this—nor you, either: I got disgusted, that night, before I got to this, I think. This is merely the episode where Tom & Huck stock Jim’s cabin with reptiles, & then set him free, in the night, with the crowd of farmers after them with guns.

Heard a wonderful banjo-player to-day. I love you, love you, darling