Well, isn’t the devil in the luck? Raymond backs out at last—I wish to thunder you hadn’t had the trouble of writing the speech for nothing. Then your manager had to go & get killed. That is your share of the ill luck. Mrs. Clemens has fallen sick, & our return home is frustrated, just as we were nearly ready to start. And that miscreant who drew the revolver escaped from the jailor & has got away into Pennsylvania. That is my share. Yet after all it was a sort of victory to make him show the white feather, since all the prudent advisers said it was a mistake to arrest the terror of the region—his tribe would burn us out, &c. He is gone, & his tribe are modest & quiet for the first time in their history.

But I am mighty sorry you lost your time on that speech.