Private.

I make this “Private” to arrest your attention at once—for I shall say things which must be kept permanently private—otherwise they might sometime or other come to Ma’s ears.

1. PamelaⒶemendation is going to California to live. 2. Ma refuses to go there. 3. We dare not invite her to stay with us; for with three children & a lot of servants, Livy has already as heavy a burden as she can possibly wag under: to add a care & a solicitude would be to add the one thing more than she could bear up under.

Now the thing is narrowed down to just this: Ma likes the idea of going to live with you, but she won’t do it except upon the condition that you shall be doing something & earning something. We have insisted that you are not receiving a pension, but anⒶemendation income fairly & righteously derived from money saved to me by your exposure of Bliss’s swindling methods.

But it doesn’t do a bit of good; she stubbornly sticks to her point; she will not budge from that stipulated condition.

Consequently she must either go to a hotel, (which she plainly has a fondness for), or we must get around her with a ruse. Pamela & Livy & I have consulted, & we have decided upon this; youⒶemendation are to go now—at once—immediately—to some Keokuk lawyer & take a position as office lawyer in hisⒶemendation establishment for nothing—he is to allow you, free of expense to him (or for a dollar a year) to assist him as well & diligently as you can—& you & Mollie are to let on to Ma that these labors of yours add money to your income, then she will be satisfied.

She will pay you $20 a month (she wouldn’t pay a cent more in Heaven—she is obstinate upon this point,) & as long as she remains with you & is content, I will add $25 a month to the sum which Perkins already sends you.

And by & by if she grows discontented & moves to California, I will transfer the $25 to Pamela, & she will take a turn at trying to make Ma satisfied & happy.

Such is the program. Tell me if you agree. If you can write literature in that law office if you want to; but if you do it, don’t confess the fact to Ma; for she crowded out of me my opinion as to the chances of your autobiography, before I saw her drift.

I told her I had readⒶemendation 800 pages & found but little to preserve; & that although I should go on reading & editing it, from time to time, & would afterward re-revise it from beginning to end, putting many weeks of time upon it worth a hundred dollars an hour, I believe I should have my labor for my pains at last, & thatⒶemendation the book would not prove to be worth such a sacrifice.

Now therefore, she is determined that you shall not waste your time upon the creation of our promising literature—so, don’t tell her you are continuing to write literature: it would put her in a sweat at once.

Nobody here is well, but all send lots of love to you & Mollie.