“wildcat.” You ought not to do anything that is calculated to bring
a sacred thing into disrepute. You ought to be ashamed of
yourselves that is what I think about it. You close your petition
with the words: “And we will ever pray.” I think you had better you
need to do it.
“‘Very truly, etc.,
“‘MARK TWAIN,
“‘For James W. N—–, U. S. Senator.’
“That luminous epistle finishes me with the religious element among my
constituents. But that my political murder might be made sure, some evil
instinct prompted me to hand you this memorial from the grave company of
elders composing the board of aldermen of the city of San Francisco, to
try your hand upon a, memorial praying that the city’s right to the
water-lots upon the city front might be established by law of Congress.
I told you this was a dangerous matter to move in. I told you to write a
non-committal letter to the aldermen–an ambiguous letter–a letter that
should avoid, as far as possible, all real consideration and discussion
of the water-lot question. If there is any feeling left in you–any
shame–surely this letter you wrote, in obedience to that order, ought to
evoke it, when its words fall upon your ears:
WASHINGTON, Nov. 27
“‘The Honorable Board of Aldermen, etc.
“‘GENTLEMEN: George Washington, the revered Father of his Country,
is dead. His long and brilliant career is closed, alas! forever.
He was greatly respected in this section of the country, and his
untimely decease cast a gloom over the whole community. He died on
the 14th day of December, 1799. He passed peacefully away from the
scene of his honors and his great achievements, the most lamented
hero and the best beloved that ever earth hath yielded unto Death.
At such a time as this, you speak of water-lots! what a lot was his!
“‘What is fame! Fame is an accident. Sir Isaac Newton discovered
an apple falling to the ground–a trivial discovery, truly, and one
which a million men had made before him–but his parents were
influential, and so they tortured that small circumstance into
something wonderful, and, lo! the simple world took up the shout
and, in almost the twinkling of an eye, that man was famous.
Treasure these thoughts.
“‘Poesy, sweet poesy, who shall estimate what the world owes to
thee!
“Mary had a little lamb, its fleece was white as snow–
And everywhere that Mary went, the lamb was sure to go.”
“Jack and Gill went up the hill
To draw a pail of water;
Jack fell down and broke his crown,
And Gill came tumbling after.”
“‘For simplicity, elegance of diction, and freedom from immoral
tendencies, I regard those two poems in the light of gems. They
are suited to all grades of intelligence, to every sphere of life
–to the field, to the nursery, to the guild. Especially should
no Board of Aldermen be without them.
“‘Venerable fossils! write again. Nothing improves one so much as
friendly correspondence. Write again–and if there is anything in
this memorial of yours that refers to anything in particular, do
not be backward about explaining it. We shall always be happy to
hear you chirp.
“‘Very truly, etc.,
“‘MARK TWAIN,
“‘For James W. N—–, U. S. Senator.’
“That is an atrocious, a ruinous epistle! Distraction!”
“Well, sir, I am really sorry if there is anything wrong about it–but
–but it appears to me to dodge the water-lot question.”
“Dodge the mischief! Oh!–but never mind. As long as destruction must
come now, let it be complete. Let it be complete–let this last of your
performances, which I am about to read, make a finality of it. I am a
ruined man. I had my misgivings when I gave you the letter from
Humboldt, asking that the post route from Indian Gulch to Shakespeare Gap
and intermediate points be changed partly to the old Mormon trail. But I
told you it was a delicate question, and warned you to deal with it
deftly–to answer it dubiously, and leave them a little in the dark.
And your fatal imbecility impelled you to make this disastrous reply.
I should think you would stop your ears, if you are not dead to all