November 30 Wednesday – Sam’s 35th birthday. Bliss wrote Sam the facts of life about publishing—but said if he wanted 10% then he could have it, but it would leave Bliss very little profit. It was a very civil give and take. “Will this suit you? Aint it fair?” about the diamond book [MTL 4: 253n2].

John Henry Riley wrote to Sam.

Friend Clemens / Last night I dreamed “three times in succession” that I dwelt and delved in the Diamond fields of South Africa, and fairly reveled in the Republic of the Transvaal (wherever that may be)—furthermore that that I had been eminently successful in finding and buying the precious gems, some of which outrivaled the Koh-i-nor in size, weight and water, and outshone the Great Hoggarty Diamond in brilliancy. And lo and behold, this morning comes your letter!

How I would [have] liked to have been able to pack right up and start from the word “go”. I am “mighty willin” but not ready. And so after duly considering the subject, and carefully weighing the pros and cons I telegraphed the following “at your expense”:—

“Yes—at the close of session. Will write. Would rather talk. Pass is good yet. Can start to-morrow evening. Shall I? Answer”. Charges $1.50 for that with orders to C.O.D.

Waiting a reply I am writing you, with thanks for your kind consideration for my welfare and assuring you that I would really like to go. I am somewhat of an expert in precious stones, thanks to that poor old Brazillian Diamond Hunter whom I befriended in the Cal. mines, years ago; have a taste that way and thanks to my early experience in the gold fields and in Mexico and Centro-America am a good campaigner and know how to take care of myself and others. Besides which a residence of five years in the District of Columbia should certainly fit a man for South Africa. North Africa or the Interior of Africa. All of which is respectfully submitted. But—why did the idea not enter into your head or my head, or the pair of cabbage-heads when I was with you in Buffalo? And I would have said Yes to your query “Will You Go?” at once. Now, I consider that I am to a certain extent compromised to remain here through this session for I know that Senator Cole, Sutro, Judge Carter and others will rely upon my aid in their matters and apart from my engagement with the ALTA I have agreed to correspond with two other Cal. newspapers during the session; and this only one short week ago.

Then there are my two Committees—before which there remains much unfinished business which “went over” during the last session—and with which no new man taking my place as Clerk, could attend to so well as I, and it would not be right for me to leave at this time. Were I [to] go to Africa, to the diamond fields, or to Peru, to the coal mines, for you, I am sure you would not like me to fly off somewhere else just because the impulse seized me or a better offer were made me to go elsewhere. No—I cannot do it even though to “stick” should result to my disadvantage. But if there is no actual haste in the matter I can go after close of the session say as soon as you like after the fourth of March next. Who cares if there are “four hundred waggons on the Pnielside”. Why when I get there with my waggon I’ll drive in on the near side or the off side and thus secure a positive advantage—especially when it is time to leave. So wait for the “Ides of March” or fix a date to correspond to ’em, and I’ll go. / Yours truly / J. H. Riley. / Your injunction of secresy is heeded most religiously [MTPO]. Note: Adolph Sutro (1830-1898); Senator from Calif. Cornelius Cole (1822-1924); David Kellogg Cartter (1812–1887), chief justice of the Supreme Court of the District of Columbia since 1863.