I ate without fear or stint, and yet have escaped all suggestion of indigestion.The men present were old gray Pacific-coasters whom I knew when I and they were young and not gray.The talk was of the days when we went gypsying a long time ago--thirty years.Indeed it was a talk of the dead.Mainly that.And of how they looked, and the harum-scarum things they did and said.For there were no cares in that life, no aches and pains, and not time enough in the day (and three-fourths of the night) to work off one's surplus vigor and energy.Of the mid-night highway robbery joke played upon me with revolvers at my head on the windswept and desolate Gold Hill Divide, no witness is left but me, the victim.All the friendly robbers are gone.These old fools last night laughed till they cried over the particulars of that old forgotten crime.
John Mackay has no family here but a pet monkey--a most affectionate and winning little devil.But he makes trouble for the servants, for he is full of curiosity and likes to take everything out of the drawers and examine it minutely; and he puts nothing back.The examinations of yesterday count for nothing to-day--he makes a new examination every day.
But he injures nothing.
I went with Laffan to the Racquet Club the other night and played, billiards two hours without starting up any rheumatism.I suppose it was all really taken out of me in Berlin.
Richard Harding Davis spoke yesterday of Clara's impersonations at Mrs.
Van Rensselaer's here and said they were a wonderful piece of work.
Livy dear, I do hope you are comfortable, as to quarters and food at the Hotel Brighton.But if you're not don't stay there.Make one more effort--don't give it up.Dear heart, this is from one who loves you--which is Saml.
It was decided that Rogers and Clemens should make a trip to Chicago to investigate personally the type-setter situation there.Clemens reports the details of the excursion to Mrs.Clemens in a long subdivided letter, most of which has no general interest and is here omitted.The trip, as a whole, would seem to have been satisfactory.The personal portions of the long Christmas letter may properly be preserved.
To Mrs.Clemens, in Paris:
THE PLAYERS, Xmas, 1893.
No.1.
Merry Xmas, my darling, and all my darlings! I arrived from Chicago close upon midnight last night, and wrote and sent down my Christmas cablegram before undressing: "Merry Xmas! Promising progress made in Chicago." It would get to the telegraph office toward 8 this morning and reach you at luncheon.
I was vaguely hoping, all the past week, that my Xmas cablegram would be definite, and make you all jump with jubilation; but the thought always intruded itself, "You are not going out there to negotiate with a man, but with a louse.This makes results uncertain."I was asleep as Christmas struck upon the clock at mid night, and didn't wake again till two hours ago.It is now half past 10 Xmas morning; Ihave had my coffee and bread, and shan't get out of bed till it is time to dress for Mrs.Laflan's Christmas dinner this evening--where I shall meet Bram Stoker and must make sure about that photo with Irving's autograph.I will get the picture and he will attend to the rest.In order to remember and not forget--well, I will go there with my dress coat wrong side out; it will cause remark and then I shall remember.
No.2 and 3.
I tell you it was interesting! The Chicago campaign, I mean.On the way out Mr.Rogers would plan out the campaign while I walked the floor and smoked and assented.Then he would close it up with a snap and drop it and we would totally change the subject and take up the scenery, etc.
(Here follows the long detailed report of the Chicago conference, of interest only to the parties directly concerned.)No.4.
We had nice tripe, going and coming.Mr.Rogers had telegraphed the Pennsylvania Railroad for a couple of sections for us in the fast train leaving at 2 p.m.the 22nd.The Vice President telegraphed back that every berth was engaged (which was not true--it goes without saying) but that he was sending his own car for us.It was mighty nice and comfortable.In its parlor it had two sofas, which could become beds at night.It had four comfortably-cushioned cane arm-chairs.It had a very nice bedroom with a wide bed in it; which I said I would take because Ibelieved I was a little wider than Mr.Rogers--which turned out to be true; so I took it.It had a darling back-porch--railed, roofed and roomy; and there we sat, most of the time, and viewed the scenery and talked, for the weather was May weather, and the soft dream-pictures of hill and river and mountain and sky were clear and away beyond anything Ihave ever seen for exquisiteness and daintiness.
The colored waiter knew his business, and the colored cook was a finished artist.Breakfasts: coffee with real cream; beefsteaks, sausage, bacon, chops, eggs in various ways, potatoes in various--yes, and quite wonderful baked potatoes, and hot as fire.Dinners--all manner of things, including canvas-back duck, apollinaris, claret, champagne, etc.
We sat up chatting till midnight, going and coming; seldom read a line, day or night, though we were well fixed with magazines, etc.; then Ifinished off with a hot Scotch and we went to bed and slept till 9.30a.m.
I honestly tried to pay my share of hotel bills, fees, etc., but I was not allowed--and I knew the reason why, and respected the motive.I will explain when I see you, and then you will understand.
We were 25 hours going to Chicago; we were there 24 hours; we were 30hours returning.Brisk work, but all of it enjoyable.We insisted on leaving the car at Philadelphia so that our waiter and cook (to whom Mr.
R.gave $10 apiece,) could have their Christmas-eve at home.
Mr.Rogers's carriage was waiting for us in Jersey City and deposited me at the Players.There--that's all.This letter is to make up for the three letterless days.I love you, dear heart, I love you all.
SAML.
