How odd it seems, to sit down to write a letter with the feeling that you’ve got time to do it. But I’m done work, for this season, & so have got time. I’ve done two seasons’ work in one, & haven’t anything left to do, now, but revise. I’ve written eight or nine hundred MS pages of in such a brief space of time that I mustn’t name the number of days; I shouldn’t believe it myself, & therefore of course couldn’t expect you to. I used to restrict myseflf to 4 & 5 hours a day & 5 days in the week; but this time I’ve wrought from breakfast till 5.15 p.m. six days in the week; & once or twice I smouched a Sunday when the boss wasn’t looking. Nothing is half so good as literature hooked on Sunday on the sly.

I wrote you & Twichell on the same night; & was appalled to get a note from him saying he was going to print part of my letter, & was going to do it before I could get a chance to forbid it. I telegraphed him, but was of course too late. He not only made me feel ridiculous, but he broke up & ruined a fine large plan of mine. —a several thousand dollar plan. So I wrote him a letter which was pretty much all English—& he hasn’t replied yet, after all these weeks. But he didn’t print any of it.

If you haven’t ever tried to invent an indoor historical game, don’t. I’ve got the thing at last so it will work, I guess, but I don’t wamnt any more tasks of that kind. When I wrote you, I thought I had it; whereas I was only merely entering upon the initiatory difficulties of it. I might have known it wouldn’t be an easy job, or somebody would have invented a decent historical game long ago—a thing which nobody had done. I think I’ve got it in pretty fair shape—so I have caveated it. If I fetch it out it will cost a raft of money to do it; but if I don’t fetch it out, I shall wish to be counted in on the grape-scissors, for I must speculate in something, such being my nature.

Earl of Onston—is that it? All right, we shall be very glad to receive them & get acquainted with them. And y much obliged to you, too. There’s plenty of worse people than the nobilities. I went up & spent a week with the marquis & the Princess Louise, & had as good a time as I want.

I’m powerful glad you are all back again; & we will come up there if our tri little tribe will give us the necessary furlough; & if we can’t get it, you folks must come to us & give us an extension of time. We get home Sept. 11.

Hello, I think see Waring coming!

Good-bye—letter from Clark, which explains for him.

OVERⒶemendation

No—it wasn’t Waring. I wonder what the devil has become of that man. He was to spend to-day with us, & the day’s most gone, now.

We are enjoying your story with our usual unspeakableness; & I’m right glad you throew in the shipwreck & the mystery—I like it. Mrs. Crane thinks it’s your the best story you’ve written yet. We—but we always think the last one is the best. And why shouldn’t it be? Practice helps.

in pencil: