an excerpt from Innocents Abroad :
At certainn periods it becomes the dearest ambition of a man to keep a faithful record of his performances in a book; and h e dashes at his work with an enthusiasm that imposes on him the notion that keeping a journal is the veriest pastime in the world, and the pleasantest. But if he only life’s twenty days, he will find out that only natures that are made up of pluck, endurance devotion to duty for duty’s sake, and invincible determination, may hope to venture upon so tremendous an enterprise as the keeping of a journal and not sustain a shameful defeat.
One of our favorite youths, Jack, a splendid young fellow with a head full of good sense… used to report progress every morning in the most glowing and spirited way…
Ah, but although people promised Jack that his dozens of pages a night would be worth a handsome sum one day, he fizzled out in Paris. Despite his proud and prolific pages had a good start, and he wrote about every thing including every which way the wind blew aboard the Quaker City : By the time he reached Paris, his journal had shriveled up and died.
Oh well. The world will never know. At least that tourist Samuel Clemens kept a journal that endured the wind from every direction.
Gotta love it.
Your friend in Woody Creek,
Anita Thompson
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