seven to eleven and twelve at night. You will perceive that he has but thirty minutes to pass from his school to the lecture-room, and but one hour and a half for dinner, recreation, and travelling, from nine in the morning till eleven or twelve at night. No man can stand this, I think; or, if at all, but for a short time. But Tom is a fellow of pluck and will stand as much of it as any man. I will keep a sharp eye on him, however.
"We had a very humdrum Christmas,—none but my own family, and many of them away, as you know. I had a fine beef for the occasion, but had to let him enjoy a reprieve, as the weather was quite too warm to kill him at that time. But we are enjoying him now, and each day as I look upon a part of him smoking on the table I think of ante-bellum times, in a small way."
T. S. D. TO AUGUSTINE DABNEY.
"Yours of the 1st February reached me 'on time,' as I suppose, and went through the family, interesting each one of us very much, as it abounds in incidents of travel and California affairs. One incident, however, was far from agreeable, but when a man tumbles down a strange and dark staircase, he may congratulate himself upon finding no bones broken. I hope your hand has recovered. I did not intend deferring this reply so long, and did not know that it was so long until I referred to the date just now. I truly hope that Mary finds the climate agreeable to her, and I hope that Toby is doing as well as Mary can desire. As to yourself and sister E——, I have no apprehension but that everything in that great country will suit you both perfectly, and prolong your lives. . . . You will be seventy-eight to-morrow, dating this reminds me of it. ... I was interrupted and lost the mail, and have read over your letter again, with renewed interest. It is very full, and strictly conforms to the description of Mark Twain, in his last book, 'Roughing It,' which I have just read; which is remarkable, as you were rushing along by
