November 23 Monday – Howells wrote to Sam and responded to his Nov. 20 letter that his wife was “simply absurd” about the “Limerick” letter and he wished to keep it. About the “pilot days” installment, Howells said it was “capital—it almost made the water in our ice-pitcher muddy as I read it.” Howells opted not to “meddle with it much in the way of suggestion,” which was high praise [MTL 6: 294].

November 20 Friday – Sam wrote two letters from Hartford to Howells. The first is an interesting fantasy, set in Boston (called Limerick) in the future, Nov. 16. 1935:

November 19 or 20 Friday – In Hartford Sam wrote to cousin Emma Parish.

November 18 Wednesday – From Twichell’s journal:

“Lectured at Insane Asylum to the patients on my So American travels. M.T. went with me to study the audience” [Yale, copy at MTP].

November 17 Tuesday – In Hartford Sam wrote to Howells, apologizing again for being late for lunch the day before, and relating that Livy: 

“…gets upon the verge of swearing & goes tearing around in an unseemly fury when I enlarge upon the delightful time we had in Boston & she not there to have her share” [MTL 6: 285].

From Twichell’s journal:

November 16 Monday – Twichell returned to Boston and with Sam and Frederick B. Allen, a Boston friend of Twichell’s. They attended an 11 AM meeting of the Radical Club. Walter Allen of the Boston Daily Advertiser probably invited the men [MTL 6: 284n3].

November 15 Sunday – Sam rested at the hotel while Twichell walked the nine miles to Newton Highlands and preached a sermon, then spent the night with Rev. S.H. Dana, a local pastor [MTL 6: 284n2].

November 14 Saturday – Sam wrote from Boston to Livy about the “royal time at Howells’ last night.” He enclosed a hanky for the “Modoc” (he wrote “hakky,” as Susy pronounced it).

November 13 Friday – Sam wrote from New Boston, Conn. to Livy.

Livy darling, it is bitter cold weather. We got up at half past 5 this morning, took breakfast & cleared out just as the dawn was breaking. It was a magnificent morning; the woods were white with frost, & our hands wouldn’t keep warm—nor ourselves either….We shall take the train & be in Boston at 7 this evening.