November 2 Friday – At 21 Fifth Ave, N.Y. Sam wrote to Mary B. Rogers (Mrs. H.H. Rogers, Jr.).

Friday Morning / Can it be that I have offended you, dear pal? I do hope not. I would rather offend the Deity—twice over. Was it uncourteous in me not to write & thank you for your invitation to luncheon? I only failed of that because I have been down with bronchitis ever since Tuesday afternoon. Of course I wrote the letter, but followed my habit of adding a paragraph per day, & so the book you returned has arrived before it was finished & mailed. The bronchitis assisted the delay.

But whatever my offence is, it was not intentional, & I hope not past mending, & that you will say so. Dear me, why, I can’t believe I have been guilty of anything wrong! It is unthinkable; & so I want to still sign myself your affectionate uncle until I am formally and officially degraded to the ranks [MTP].

Paine writes that he and Sam played the first game on the new billiards table (from Balke- Collender Co.), a Christmas gift delivered early (by Sam’s insistence; on Oct. 30) from H.H. Rogers.

So I remained for luncheon and we began, November 2d, the first game ever played on the Christmas table. We played the English game, in which caroms and pockets both count. I had a beginner’s luck, on the whole, and I remember it as a riotous, rollicking game, the beginning of a closer understanding between us — of a distinct epoch in our association. When it was ended he said:

“I’m not going to Egypt. There was a man here yesterday afternoon who said it was bad for bronchitis, and, besides, it’s too far away from this billiard-table.”

He suggested that I come back in the evening and play some more. I did so, and the game lasted until after midnight. He gave me odds, of course, and my “nigger luck,” as he called it, continued. It kept him sweating and swearing feverishly to win. Finally, once I made a great fluke — a carom, followed by most of the balls falling into the pockets.

“Well,” he said, “when you pick up that cue this damn table drips at every pore” [MTB 1325-6].

Isabel Lyon’s journal:

The King got up today & played billiards with AB this a.m., for there is no dictating these days. Then he played alone for 5 hours this afternoon. R.G. [Richard Gilder] & Mr. & Mrs. [Edward] Loomis were here for dinner. Mrs. L. in black is a far too mournful looking creature. Black is a terrible color for anyone to wear. The King played billiards during the evening with the men & AB came in just as we were on our way upstairs—because he had seen the King shooting alone. The men left & AB stayed on until midnight. The King began to look grey-skinned & tired [MTP TS 143].

Andrew Carnegie wrote a small invitation to Sam. “Mr. Clemens would be happy to have Mr. Carnegie dine with him at 7.30 on Friday evening, Nov. 9th / phone 3907 Gramercy. / Nov 2-06 /” [MTP]. Note: upon this “reverse form” of invitation, Sam wrote, “The Beggar’s most humble servant I can scarcely spare a minute But I’ll be yours at dinner time or else the devil’s in it— “ and vertically, “Parody Robbie Burns.”

Mrs. F. Mallery wrote from Portland, Ore. to send Sam a poem and added not to “say any thing ill of me through the ‘Press’” [MTP].

Chapters from “My Autobiography—V” ran in the N.A.R. p.833-44.