We have no record of Mark Twain's earliest letters. Very likely
they were soiled pencil notes, written to some school sweetheart
--to “Becky Thatcher,” perhaps--and tossed across at lucky moments,
or otherwise, with happy or disastrous results. One of those
smudgy, much-folded school notes of the Tom Sawyer period would be
priceless to-day, and somewhere among forgotten keepsakes it may
exist, but we shall not be likely to find it. No letter of his
boyhood, no scrap of his earlier writing, has come to light except
his penciled name, SAM CLEMENS, laboriously inscribed on the inside
of a small worn purse that once held his meager, almost non-existent
wealth. He became a printer's apprentice at twelve, but as he
received no salary, the need of a purse could not have been urgent.
He must have carried it pretty steadily, however, from its
appearance--as a kind of symbol of hope, maybe--a token of that
Sellers-optimism which dominated his early life, and was never
entirely subdued.
No other writing of any kind has been preserved from Sam Clemens's
boyhood, none from that period of his youth when he had served his
apprenticeship and was a capable printer on his brother's paper, a
contributor to it when occasion served. Letters and manuscripts of
those days have vanished--even his contributions in printed form are
unobtainable. It is not believed that a single number of Orion
Clemens's paper, the Hannibal Journal, exists to-day.
It was not until he was seventeen years old that Sam Clemens wrote a
letter any portion of which has survived. He was no longer in
Hannibal. Orion's unprosperous enterprise did not satisfy him.
His wish to earn money and to see the world had carried him first to
St. Louis, where his sister Pamela was living, then to New York
City, where a World's Fair in a Crystal Palace was in progress.
The letter tells of a visit to this great exhibition. It is not
complete, and the fragment bears no date, but it was written during
the summer of 1853.
Fragment of a letter from Sam L. Clemens to his sister Pamela Moffett,
in St. Louis, summer of 1853:
... From the gallery (second floor) you have a glorious sight--the
flags of the different countries represented, the lofty dome, glittering
jewelry, gaudy tapestry, &c., with the busy crowd passing to and
fro--tis a perfect fairy palace--beautiful beyond description.
The Machinery department is on the main floor, but I cannot enumerate
any of it on account of the lateness of the hour (past 8 o'clock.) It
would take more than a week to examine everything on exhibition; and as
I was only in a little over two hours tonight, I only glanced at about
one-third of the articles; and having a poor memory; I have enumerated
scarcely any of even the principal objects. The visitors to the Palace
average 6,000 daily--double the population of Hannibal. The price of
admission being 50 cents, they take in about $3,000.
The Latting Observatory (height about 280 feet) is near the Palace--from
it you can obtain a grand view of the city and the country round. The
Croton Aqueduct, to supply the city with water, is the greatest wonder
yet. Immense sewers are laid across the bed of the Hudson River, and
pass through the country to Westchester county, where a whole river is
turned from its course, and brought to New York. From the reservoir
in the city to the Westchester county reservoir, the distance is
thirty-eight miles! and if necessary, they could supply every family in
New York with one hundred barrels of water per day!
I am very sorry to learn that Henry has been sick. He ought to go to the
country and take exercise; for he is not half so healthy as Ma thinks he
is. If he had my walking to do, he would be another boy entirely. Four
times every day I walk a little over one mile; and working hard all day,
and walking four miles, is exercise--I am used to it, now, though, and
it is no trouble. Where is it Orion's going to? Tell Ma my promises are
faithfully kept, and if I have my health I will take her to Ky. in the
spring--I shall save money for this. Tell Jim and all the rest of them
to write, and give me all the news. I am sorry to hear such bad
news from Will and Captain Bowen. I shall write to Will soon. The
Chatham-square Post Office and the Broadway office too, are out of my
way, and I always go to the General Post Office; so you must write the
direction of my letters plain, “New York City, N. Y.,” without giving
the street or anything of the kind, or they may go to some of the other
offices. (It has just struck 2 A.M. and I always get up at 6, and am
at work at 7.) You ask me where I spend my evenings. Where would you
suppose, with a free printers' library containing more than 4,000
volumes within a quarter of a mile of me, and nobody at home to talk to?
I shall write to Ella soon. Write soon