Transcription:
00746 1 San Francisco April 23d, 1877 My dear Sister Sarah, To thee I give bequest this old gray quill with which
I have written every word of my first book, knowing as I do your predele illegible tion for curiosities. I can hardly remember
its origin, but I think it is one that I picked up on the Mountains, fallen from the wing of a gray Eagle; but possibly it
may be only a pinion feather of some tame old gray goose, my love of truth compels me to make this unpoetical statement. The
book that has flower from its whittled nib? is however as wild as any that has ever appeared in these tame civilized days.