March 29 before – William L. Bryan (1860-1955), philosopher, author, president of Indiana University (1902-1937), wrote to Sam. Bryan was a cousin to Joseph Bryan, a friend of Twain’s and a Mississippi River pilot from 1850-1900.

Here is a question. A man writes. Succeeds. Wins admiration far and wide. Wins finally the deep affection of thousands of men and women. A few of these can let him know. A few others try and fail, blundering about in the attempt. Most of the thousands are necessarily forever silent. Their feeling for him is an immeasurable electric charge which can never strike his lightening rod. / But does it? That is my question. Does he somehow sometimes sense the innumerable unknown friendships which he has made? Does he sometimes in the most sorrowful night of loneliness pick up like a Marconi tower the streams of attention, of friendliness, flowing toward him? / My scientific Geist says no. But I hope he may have some equivalent experience [MTP].

March 29 Friday – At 21 Fifth Ave, N.Y. Sam wrote to Lilian W. Aldrich.

I cannot realize it. That that lovely spirit has gone out of our lives for ever, does seem so impossible. And we never shall realize it—this I know, for I have learned. The day will never come when we shall cease to hear his step & see his smile. How we loved him!

It grieved me that I could not go to Boston; but I was not well, & was exhausted by the sea- passage, & should have been obliged to take a midnight train—prohibitory conditions when one is old.

There is only one comfort for you & me—our stay here is not for long [MTP].

Sam also replied to the before Mar. 29 of William L. Bryan.

Assuming that I am that person, I think I may say that it is like this: when a fragment of star- material falls into our atmosphere it catches fire & lights up & smiles a friendly greeting to us as it passes—& we infer that there are others of its gracious disposition where it came from. We reason that they are there although we cannot see them. In my case I reason so—in recent times. For now that I have lost my star, my wife, & need kindnesses; & am old, & need the friendly word, letters like yours are coming to me—with increasing frequency—& I allow myself the very precious privilege of inferring that these letters do not speak for their writers alone, but for many friends who are invisible only because they do not cross my orbit. And so I do “sense the unknown friendships;” & not merely at intervals, but every day & all the time— & rightly & limitlessly thankful am I that this is so. My life is hardly real; it must surely be a dream, a fairy tale. I thank you for those welcome words [MTP].

Isabel Lyon’s journal: “The King started for Mrs. Ladenburg’s Westbury L.I. home at 3:30. He’s going down with Colonel Harvey” [MTP TS 46]. Note: see Mar. 27 from Emily Ladenburg.

Ralph W. Ashcroft wrote on International Spiral Pin Co. letterhead to Miss Lyon.

“I enclose Telegraphone certificate of reservation of 100 shares of stock, good until April 1 . There has been no agreement on our part, as yet, to take the stock. / When Mr. Clemens returns on Monday, tell him to ante up or throw in his hand, as that day is April 1 . Rather a bad day to st make an investment, I think!”[MTP].

James B. Gantt and Leroy B. Valliant wrote to Sam on State of Missouri Supreme Court letterhead, urging him “to deliver a lecture in aid of” the Daughters of the Confederacy in St. Louis [MTP].

William Dean Howells wrote to Sam.

Dear Clemens: / I have not the time or strength for the long wrestle with the Buon-Martini problem, and I am sending back the pamphlet. There would be glory in it, and I should like to share that with you; all the more glory because on the woman’s side the sorrow seems slopped up with sentimentalism, as I read the case; and sentimentalism is a part of every good woman which ought to be defended. However, I have merely sketched the thing through, recognizing my inability to co-operate. Yours ever … [MTHL 2: 824-5]. Note: source says the pamphlet and problem are unidentified. It may refer to a linguistic problem in Dante.

F.W. Moore wrote from Brooklyn, NY to Sam. For many years Moore had recited Sam’s sketch, “Buck Fanshaw’s Funeral” and never understood the phrase “…you see he’s dead again”—why again? [MTP]. Note: Lyon wrote on the letter: “adding that word ‘again’ was a common thing out there—It can’t be explained & nobody knows how it came into use.”