To James Gillis, in his cabin on Jackass Hill,
Tuolumne Co., California:

ELMIRA, N.Y. Jan. 26, '70.
DEAR JIM,--I remember that old night just as well! And somewhere among my
relics I have your remembrance stored away. It makes my heart ache yet
to call to mind some of those days. Still, it shouldn't--for right in
the depths of their poverty and their pocket-hunting vagabondage lay the
germ of my coming good fortune. You remember the one gleam of jollity
that shot across our dismal sojourn in the rain and mud of Angels' Camp
I mean that day we sat around the tavern stove and heard that chap tell
about the frog and how they filled him with shot. And you remember how
we quoted from the yarn and laughed over it, out there on the hillside
while you and dear old Stoker panned and washed. I jotted the story down
in my note-book that day, and would have been glad to get ten or fifteen
dollars for it--I was just that blind. But then we were so hard up!
I published that story, and it became widely known in America, India,
China, England--and the reputation it made for me has paid me thousands
and thousands of dollars since. Four or five months ago I bought into
the Express (I have ordered it sent to you as long as you live--and if
the book keeper sends you any bills, you let me hear of it.) I went
heavily in debt never could have dared to do that, Jim, if we hadn't
heard the jumping Frog story that day.

And wouldn't I love to take old Stoker by the hand, and wouldn't I love
to see him in his great specialty, his wonderful rendition of "Rinalds"
in the "Burning Shame!" Where is Dick and what is he doing? Give him my
fervent love and warm old remembrances.