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Marked Indianapolis letter 611 N. Meridian St., Indianapolis, April 8, '95. My dear Mr. Muir: In a letter I wrote you
not long since in acknowledgment of the receipt of your book, which I presume reached you in due time, I took occasion to
tease you a little bit regarding the somewhat fishy flavor of your most interesting account of the irreverent behavior of
the Douglas squirrels when you sang, or whistled the Old Hundredth in their ears. Although I told you at the time that I entirely
believed your statement, yet I have had a slightly uncomfortable feeling ever since, that you might not wholly understand
that I was only using a friend's privilege in guying you for telling a wonderful story, which, told by a less truthful man,
I might have doubted. Jokes are dangerous things to handle and are sometimes misunderstood even by good friends. I once knew
a prominent man, the late Attorney General Dunn of Washington City, who said he rarely attempted a joke, without giving offense.
Now do not think that I believed Sidney Smith when he said A joke could not reach a Scotchman's brain without a surgical operation.
You can both give and take gracefully. I only feared I had not made myself clear-hence this note, which is perhaps a work
of supererogation. Your book, with the presentation copy remembrance added to its other charms, will always be a wellspring
of pleasure to me. I am looking forward with interest to your Alaska book. Mrs. DeVore is in the East now, lecturing upon
her work. She is a very interesting talker, and, in going about, is acting under orders from the Missionary Board. I met her
at the house of a friend who entertained her when she recently visited Indianapolis, and was glad to find she knows and admires
you. Yours, with warm regard, Eliza S. Hendricks.