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<h2> AMENDED OBITUARIES </h2>
<h3> TO THE EDITOR: </h3>
<p>Sir,—I am approaching seventy; it is in sight; it is only three
years away. Necessarily, I must go soon. It is but matter-of-course
wisdom, then, that I should begin to set my worldly house in order now, so
that it may be done calmly and with thoroughness, in place of waiting
until the last day, when, as we have often seen, the attempt to set both
houses in order at the same time has been marred by the necessity for
haste and by the confusion and waste of time arising from the inability of
the notary and the ecclesiastic to work together harmoniously, taking turn
about and giving each other friendly assistance—not perhaps in
fielding, which could hardly be expected, but at least in the minor
offices of keeping game and umpiring; by consequence of which conflict of
interests and absence of harmonious action a draw has frequently resulted
where this ill-fortune could not have happened if the houses had been set
in order one at a time and hurry avoided by beginning in season, and
giving to each the amount of time fairly and justly proper to it.</p>
<p>In setting my earthly house in order I find it of moment that I should
attend in person to one or two matters which men in my position have long
had the habit of leaving wholly to others, with consequences often most
regrettable. I wish to speak of only one of these matters at this time:
Obituaries. Of necessity, an Obituary is a thing which cannot be so
judiciously edited by any hand as by that of the subject of it. In such a
work it is not the Facts that are of chief importance, but the light which
the obituarist shall throw upon them, the meaning which he shall dress
them in, the conclusions which he shall draw from them, and the judgments
which he shall deliver upon them. The Verdicts, you understand: that is
the danger-line.</p>
<p>In considering this matter, in view of my approaching change, it has
seemed to me wise to take such measures as may be feasible, to acquire, by
courtesy of the press, access to my standing obituaries, with the
privilege—if this is not asking too much—of editing, not their
Facts, but their Verdicts. This, not for the present profit, further than
as concerns my family, but as a favorable influence usable on the Other
Side, where there are some who are not friendly to me.</p>
<p>With this explanation of my motives, I will now ask you of your courtesy
to make an appeal for me to the public press. It is my desire that such
journals and periodicals as have obituaries of me lying in their
pigeonholes, with a view to sudden use some day, will not wait longer, but
will publish them now, and kindly send me a marked copy. My address is
simply New York City—I have no other that is permanent and not
transient.</p>
<p>I will correct them—not the Facts, but the Verdicts—striking
out such clauses as could have a deleterious influence on the Other Side,
and replacing them with clauses of a more judicious character. I should,
of course, expect to pay double rates for both the omissions and the
substitutions; and I should also expect to pay quadruple rates for all
obituaries which proved to be rightly and wisely worded in the originals,
thus requiring no emendations at all.</p>
<p>It is my desire to leave these Amended Obituaries neatly bound behind me
as a perennial consolation and entertainment to my family, and as an
heirloom which shall have a mournful but definite commercial value for my
remote posterity.</p>
<p>I beg, sir, that you will insert this Advertisement (1t-eow, agate,
inside), and send the bill to</p>
<p>Yours very respectfully.</p>
<p>Mark Twain.</p>
<p>P.S.—For the best Obituary—one suitable for me to read in
public, and calculated to inspire regret—I desire to offer a Prize,
consisting of a Portrait of me done entirely by myself in pen and ink
without previous instructions. The ink warranted to be the kind used by
the very best artists.</p>
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