“If he’s got any suspicions that I’m going to tell on him, he won’t keep them long, to-morrow. He will see that I am the same milksop as I always was—all day and the next. And the day after to-morrow night there’ll be an end of him; nobody will ever guess who finished him up nor how it was done. He dropped me the idea his own self, and that’s odd.”

To the Editor of the Republican:—

One of your citizens has asked me a question about the “œsophagus,” and I wish to answer him through you. This in the hope that the answer will get around, and save me some penmanship, for I have already replied to the same question more than several times, and am not getting as much holiday as I ought to have.

I published a short story lately, and it was in that that I put the œsophagus. I will say privately that I expected it to bother some people—in fact, that was the intention,—but the harvest has been larger than I was calculating upon. The œsophagus has gathered in the guilty and the innocent alike, whereas I was only fishing for the innocent—the innocent and confiding. I knew a few of these would write and ask me; that would give me but little trouble; but I was not expecting that the wise and the learned would call upon me for succor. However, that has happened, and it is time for me to speak up and stop the inquiries if I can, for letter-writing is not restful to me, and I am not having so much fun out of this thing as I counted on. That you may understand the situation, I will insert a couple of sample inquiries. The first is from a public instructor in the Philippines:

Santa Cruz, Ilocos Sur, P. I.
February 13, 1902.

My Dear Sir: I have just been reading the first part of your latest story, entitled “A Double-barreled Detective Story,” and am very much delighted with it. In Part IV, page 264, Harper’s Magazine for January, occurs this passage: “far in the empty sky a solitary ‘œsophagus’ slept, upon motionless wing; everywhere brooded stillness, serenity, and the peace of God.” Now, there is one word I do not understand, namely, “œsophagus.” My only work of reference is the “Standard Dictionary,” but that fails to explain the meaning. If you can spare the time, I would be glad to have the meaning cleared up, as I consider the passage a very touching and beautiful one. It may seem foolish to you, but consider my lack of means away out in the northern part of Luzon.

Yours very truly.

Do you notice? Nothing in the paragraph disturbed him but that one word. It shows that that paragraph was most ably constructed for the deception it was intended to put upon the reader. It was my intention that it should read plausibly, and it is now plain that it does; it was my intention that it should be emotional and touching, and you see, yourself, that it fetched this public instructor. Alas, if I had but left that one treacherous word out, I should have scored! scored everywhere; and the paragraph would have slidden through every reader’s sensibilities like oil, and left not a suspicion behind.

The other sample inquiry is from a professor in a New England university. It contains one naughty word (which I cannot bear to suppress), but he is not in the theological department, so it is no harm:—

Dear Mr. Clemens: “Far in the empty sky a solitary œsophagus slept upon motionless wing.”

It is not often I get a chance to read much periodical literature, but I have just gone through at this belated period, with much gratification and edification, your “Double-Barreled Detective Story.”

But what in hell is an œsophagus? I keep one myself, but it never sleeps in the air or anywhere else. My profession is to deal with words, and œsophagus interested me the moment I lighted upon it. But as a companion of my youth used to say, “I’ll be eternally, co-eternally cussed” if I can make it out. Is it a joke, or I an ignoramus?