[First part of this letter missing.]
* * * * *
Yes, I know Blackburn Harte has a weakness for the proletariat of
letters * * * and doubtless thinks Riley good _because_ he is "of the
people," peoply. But he will have to endure me as well as he can. You
ask my opinion of Burns. He has not, I think, been translated into
English, and I do not (that is, I can but _will_ not) read that
gibberish. I read Burns once--that was once too many times; but
happily it was before I knew any better, and so my time, being
worthless, was not wasted.
I wish you could be up here this beautiful weather. But I dare say it
would rain if you came. In truth, it is "thickening" a trifle just
because of my wish. And I wish I _had_ given you, for your father,
all the facts of my biography from the cradle--downward. When you come
again I shall, if you still want them. For I'm worried half to death
with requests for them, and when I refuse am no doubt considered surly
or worse. And my refusal no longer serves, for the biography men are
beginning to write my history from imagination. So the next time I see
you I shall give you (orally) that "history of a crime," my life.
Then, if your father is still in the notion, he can write it from your
notes, and I can answer all future inquiries by enclosing his article.
Do you know?--you will, I think, be glad to know--that I have many
more offers for stories at good prices, than I have the health to
accept. (For I am less nearly well than I have told you.) Even the
_Examiner_ has "waked up" (I woke it up) to the situation, and now
pays me $20 a thousand words; and my latest offer from New York is
$50.
I hardly know why I tell you this unless it is because you tell me of
any good fortune that comes to your people, and because you seem to
take an interest in my affairs such as nobody else does in just the
same unobjectionable and, in fact, agreeable way. I wish you were my
"real, sure-enough" niece. But in that case I should expect you to
pass all your time at Howell Mountain, with your uncle and cousin.
Then I should teach you to write, and you could expound to me the
principles underlying the art of being the best girl in the world.
Sincerely yours,