LONDON, Oct. 19, '99 DEAR MR. WALKER,--By gracious but you have a talent for making a man feel proud and good! To say a compliment well is a high art--and few possess it. You know how to do it, and when you confirm its sincerity with a handsome cheque the limit is reached and compliment can no higher go. I like to work for you: when you don't approve an article you say so, recognizing that I am not a child and can stand it; and when you approve an article I don't have to dicker with you as if I raised peanuts and you kept a stand; I know I shall get every penny the article is worth. You have given me very great pleasure, and I thank you for it. Sincerely Yours S. L. CLEMENS. On the same day he sent word to Howells of the good luck which now seemed to be coming his way. The Joan of Arc introduction was the same that today appears in his collected works under the title of Saint Joan of Arc. ***** To W. D. Howells, in New York: LONDON, Oct. 19, '99. DEAR HOWELLS,--My, it's a lucky day!--of the sort when it never rains but it pours. I was to write an introduction to a nobler book--the English translation of the Official Record (unabridged) of the Trials and Rehabilitation of Joan of Arc, and make a lot of footnotes. I wrote the introduction in Sweden, and here a few days ago I tore loose from a tale I am writing, and took the MS book and went at the grind of note-making--a fearful job for a man not used to it. This morning brought a note from my excellent friend Murray, a rich Englishman who edits the translation, saying, “Never mind the notes--we'll make the translators do them.” That was comfort and joy. The same mail brought a note from Canon Wilberforce, asking me to talk Joan of Arc in his drawing-room to the Dukes and Earls and M. P.'s--(which would fetch me out of my seclusion and into print, and I couldn't have that,) and so of course I must run down to the Abbey and explain--and lose an hour. Just then came Murray and said “Leave that to me--I'll go and do the explaining and put the thing off 3 months; you write a note and tell him I am coming.” (Which I did, later.) Wilberforce carried off my hat from a lunch party last summer, and in to-day's note he said he wouldn't steal my new hat this time. In my note I said I couldn't make the drawing-room talk, now--Murray would explain; and added a P. S.: “You mustn't think it is because I am afraid to trust my hat in your reach again, for I assure you upon honor it isn't. I should bring my old one.” I had suggested to Murray a fortnight ago, that he get some big guns to write introductory monographs for the book. Miss X, Joan's Voices and Prophecies. The Lord Chief Justice of England, the legal prodigies which she performed before her judges. Lord Roberts, her military genius. Kipling, her patriotism.