causes 
much comment--I believe that that is not an over-statement. Some of 
this comment is palliative, but some of it --by patrons at a distance, 
who only know the statistics without the explanation,--is offensive, and 
in some cases even violent. Nine students have been called home. The 
trustees of the college have been growing more and more uneasy all 
these last months--steadily along with the implacable increase in your 
census--and I will not conceal from you that more than once they have 
touched upon the expediency of a change in the Professorship of Moral 
Culture. The coarsely sarcastic editorial in yesterday's Alta, headed 
Give the Moral Acrobat a Rest--has brought things to a crisis, and I am 
charged with the unpleasant duty of receiving your resignation." 
I know you only mean me a kindness, dear 1365, but it is a most deadly 
mistake. Please do not name your Injun for me. Truly Yours. 
Mailed Answer: 
NEW YORK, Sept. 8. 1887. DEAR SIR,--Necessarily I cannot assent 
to so strange a proposition. And I think it but fair to warn you that if 
you put the piece on the stage, you must take the legal consequences. 
Yours respectfully, S. L. CLEMENS. 
Before the days of international copyright no American author's books
were pirated more freely by Canadian publishers than those of Mark 
Twain. It was always a sore point with him that these books, cheaply 
printed, found their way into the United States, and were sold in 
competition with his better editions. The law on the subject seemed to 
be rather hazy, and its various interpretations exasperating. In the next 
unmailed letter Mark Twain relieves himself to a misguided official. 
The letter is worth reading today, if for no other reason, to show the 
absurdity of copyright conditions which prevailed at that time. 
Unmailed Letter to H. C. Christiancy, on book Piracy: 
HARTFORD, Dec. 18, '87. H. C. CHRISTIANCY, ESQ. 
DEAR SIR,--As I understand it, the position of the U. S. Government is 
this: If a person be captured on the border with counterfeit bonds in his 
hands--bonds of the N. Y. Central Railway, for instance--the procedure 
in his case shall be as follows: 
1. If the N. Y. C. have not previously filed in the several police offices 
along the border, proof of ownership of the originals of the bonds, the 
government officials must collect a duty on the counterfeits, and then 
let them go ahead and circulate in this country. 
2. But if there is proof already on file, then the N. Y. C. may pay the 
duty and take the counterfeits. 
But in no case will the United States consent to go without its share of 
the swag. It is delicious. The biggest and proudest government on earth 
turned sneak-thief; collecting pennies on stolen property, and pocketing 
them with a greasy and libidinous leer; going into partnership with 
foreign thieves to rob its own children; and when the child escapes the 
foreigner, descending to the abysmal baseness of hanging on and 
robbing the infant all alone by itself! Dear sir, this is not any more 
respectable than for a father to collect toll on the forced prostitution of 
his own daughter; in fact it is the same thing. Upon these terms, what is 
a U. S. custom house but a "fence?" That is all it is: a legalized trader in 
stolen goods. 
And this nasty law, this filthy law, this unspeakable law calls itself a 
"regulation for the protection of owners of copyright!" Can sarcasm go 
further than that? In what way does it protect them? Inspiration itself 
could not furnish a rational answer to that question. Whom does it 
protect, then? Nobody, as far as I can see, but the foreign thief- 
sometimes--and his fellow-footpad the U. S. government, all the time.
What could the Central Company do with the counterfeit bonds after it 
had bought them of the star spangled banner Master-thief? Sell them at 
a dollar apiece and fetch down the market for the genuine 
hundred-dollar bond? What could I do with that 20-cent copy of 
"Roughing It" which the United States has collared on the border and is 
waiting to release to me for cash in case I am willing to come down to 
its moral level and help rob myself? Sell it at ten or fifteen cents--duty 
added--and destroy the market for the original $3,50 book? Who ever 
did invent that law? I would like to know the name of that immortal 
jackass. 
Dear sir, I appreciate your courtesy in stretching your authority in the 
desire to do me a kindness, and I sincerely thank you for it. But I have 
no use for that book; and if I were even starving for it I would not pay 
duty on in either to get it or    
    
		
	
	
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