My dear Mrs. Clarke,—Herewith I send you my “first copy,” done in, I presume, American gold. Considering what American booksellers extract from English brains, even the smallest piece of the precious metal is, to literary eyes, refreshing. I doubt, however, whether these gold pens really work; they are pretty holiday things, but to earn daily bread with, I have already my misgivings that I must go back to iron. To be sure, I once had a gold pen that seemed to write of itself, but this was stolen by a Cinderella who, of course, could not write even with that gold pen. Perhaps, however, the Policeman could.
That the Chronicle did not come was my blunder. I hope ’twill reach you with this, and with it my best wishes and affectionate regards to you and flesh and bone of you.
