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the different houses； pleasant afternoons in the woods； mountain…climbing
for Jean； and everywhere a spirit of fine； unpretentious comradeship。
The Copley Greene house was romantically situated； with a charming
outlook。 Clemens wrote to Twichell：
We like it here in the mountains； in the shadows of Monadnock。 It
is a woody solitude。 We have no near neighbors。 We have neighbors
and I can see their houses scattered in the forest distances； for we
live on a hill。 I am astonished to find that I have known 8 of
these 14 neighbors a long time； 10 years is the shortest； then seven
beginning with 25 years & running up to 37 years' friendship。 It is
the most remarkable thing I ever heard of。
This letter was written in July； and he states in it that he has turned
out one hundred thousand words of a large manuscript。 。 It was a
fantastic tale entitled 〃3；000 Years among the Microbes；〃 a sort of
scientific revelor revelrythe autobiography of a microbe that had
been once a man； and through a failure in a biological experiment
transformed into a cholera germ when the experimenter was trying to turn
him into a bird。 His habitat was the person of a disreputable tramp
named Blitzowski； a human continent of vast areas； with seething microbic
nations and fantastic life problems。 It was a satire； of course
Gulliver's Lilliput outdonea sort of scientific； socialistic；
mathematical jamboree。
He tired of it before it reached completion； though not before it had
attained the proportions of a book of size。 As a whole it would hardly
have added to his reputation； though it is not without fine and humorous
passages； and certainly not without interest。 Its chief mission was to
divert him mentally that summer during； those days and nights when he
would otherwise have been alone and brooding upon his loneliness。 ＇For
extracts from 〃3；000 Years among the Microbes〃 see Appendix V； at the end
of this work。＇
MARK TWAIN'S SUGGESTED TITLE…PAGE FOR HIS MICROBE BOOK：
3000 YEARS
AMONG THE MICROBES
By a Microbe
WITH NOTES
added by the same Hand
7000 years later
Translated from the Original
Microbic
by
Mark Twain
His inability to reproduce faces in his mind's eye he mourned as an
increasing calamity。 Photographs were lifeless things； and when he tried
to conjure up the faces of his dead they seemed to drift farther out of
reach； but now and then kindly sleep brought to him something out of that
treasure…house where all our realities are kept for us fresh and fair；
perhaps for a day when we may claim them again。 Once he wrote to Mrs。
Crane：
SUSY DEAR；I have had a lovely dream。 Livy； dressed in black； was
sitting up in my bed （here） at my right & looking as young & sweet
as she used to when she was in health。 She said； 〃What is the name
of your sweet sister？〃 I said；〃 Pamela。〃 〃Oh yes； that is it； I
thought it was（naming a name which has escaped me） won't you write
it down for me？〃 I reached eagerly for a pen & pad； laid my hands
upon both； then said to myself； 〃It is only a dream；〃 and turned
back sorrowfully & there she was still。 The conviction flamed
through me that our lamented disaster was a dream； & this a reality。
I said； 〃How blessed it is； how blessed it is； it was all a dream；
only a dream！〃 She only smiled and did not ask what dream I meant；
which surprised me。 She leaned her head against mine & kept saying；
〃I was perfectly sure it was a dream； I never would have believed it
wasn't。〃 I think she said several things； but if so they are gone
from my memory。 I woke & did not know I had been dreaming。 She was
gone。 I wondered how she could go without my knowing it； but I did
not spend any thought upon that。 I was too busy thinking of how
vivid & real was the dream that we had lost her； & how unspeakably
blessed it was to find that it was not true & that she was still
ours & with us。
He had the orchestrelle moved to Dublin； although it was no small
undertaking； for he needed the solace of its harmonies； and so the days
passed along； and he grew stronger in body and courage as his grief
drifted farther behind him。 Sometimes； in the afternoon or in the
evening； when the neighbors had come in for a little while； he would walk
up and down and talk in his old； marvelous way of all the things on land
and sea； of the past and of the future； 〃Of Providence； foreknowledge；
will； and fate；〃 of the friends he had known and of the things he had
done； of the sorrow and absurdities of the world。
It was the same old scintillating； incomparable talk of which Howells
once said：
〃We shall never know its like again。 When he dies it will die with him。〃
It was during the summer at Dublin that Clemens and Rogers together made
up a philanthropic ruse on Twichell。 Twichell； through his own prodigal
charities； had fallen into debt； a fact which Rogers knew。 Rogers was a
man who concealed his philanthropies when he could； and he performed many
of them of which the world will never know： In this case he said：
〃Clemens； I want to help Twichell out of his financial difficulty。 I
will supply the money and you will do the giving。 Twichell must think it
comes from you。〃
Clemens agreed to this on the condition that he be permitted to leave a
record of the matter for his children； so that he would not appear in a
false light to them； and that Twichell should learn the truth of the
gift； sooner or later。 So the deed was done； and Twichell and his wife
lavished their thanks upon Clemens； who； with his wife； had more than
once been their benefactors； making the deception easy enough now。
Clemens writhed under these letters of gratitude； and forwarded them to
Clara in Norfolk； and later to Rogers himself。 He pretended to take
great pleasure in this part of the conspiracy； but it was not an unmixed
delight。 To Rogers he wrote：
I wanted her ＇Clara＇ to see what a generous father she's got。 I
didn't tell her it was you； but by and by I want to tell her； when I
have your consent； then I shall want her to remember the letters。 I
want a record there； for my Life when I am dead； & must be able to
furnish the facts about the Relief…of…Lucknow…Twichell in case I
fall suddenly； before I get those facts with your consent； before
the Twichells themselves。
I read those letters with immense pride！ I recognized that I had
scored one good deed for sure on my halo account。 I haven't had
anything that tasted so good since the stolen watermelon。
P。 S。…I am hurrying them off to you because I dasn't read them
again！ I should blush to my heels to fill up with this unearned
gratitude again； pouring out of the thankful hearts of those poor
swindled people who do not suspect you； but honestly believe I gave
that money。
Mr。 Rogers hastily replied：
MY DEAR CLEMENS； The letters are lovely。 Don't breathe。 They are
so happy！ It would be a crime to let them think that you have in
any way deceived them。 I can keep still。 You must。 I am sending
you all traces of the crime； so that you may look innocent and tell
the truth； as you usually do when you think you can escape
detection。 Don't get rattled。
Seriously。 You have done a kindness。 You are proud of it； I know。
You have made your friends happy； and you ought to be so glad as to
cheerfully accept reproof from your conscience。 Joe Wadsworth and I
once stole a goose and gave it to a poor widow as a Christmas
present。 No crime in that。 I always put my counterfeit money on
the plate。 〃The passer of the sasser〃 always smiles at me and I get
credit for doing generous things。 But seriously again； if you do
feel a little uncomfortable wait until I see you before you tell
anybody。 Avoid cultivating misery。 I am trying to loaf ten solid
days。 We do hope to see you soon。
The secret was kept； and the matter presently （and characteristically）
passed out of Clemens's mind altogether。 He never remembered to tell
Twichell； and it is revealed here； according to his wish。
The Russian…Japanese war was in progress that summer； and its settlement
occurred in August。 The terms of it did not please Mark Twain。 When a
newspaper correspondent asked him for an expression of opinion on the
subject he wrote：
Russia was on the highroad to emancipation from an insane and
intolerable slavery。 I was hoping there would be no peace until
Russian liberty was safe。 I think that this was a holy war； in the
best and noblest sense of that ab