Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE.

[Washington, D. C., April 25, 1912.]

DEAR GEORGE,

I did not go to Bermuda; so I'm not "back." But I did go to Richmond, a city whose tragic and pathetic history, of which one is reminded by everything that one sees there, always gets on to my nerves with a particular dejection. True, the history is some fifty years old, but it is always with me when I'm there, making solemn eyes at me.

You're right about "this season in the East." It has indeed been penetential. For the first time I am thoroughly disgusted and half-minded to stay in California when I go--a land where every prospect pleases, and only labor unions, progressives, suffragettes (and socialists) are vile. No, I don't think I could stand California, though I'm still in the mind to visit it in June. I shall be sorry to miss Carrie at Carmel, but hope to have the two of you on some excursion or camping trip. We _want_ to go to Yosemite, which the girls have not seen, but if there's no water there it may not be advisable. Guess we'll have to let you natives decide. How would the Big Trees do as a subst.i.tute?

Girls is pizen, but not necessarily fatal. I've taken 'em in large doses all my life, and suffered pangs enough to equip a number of small h.e.l.ls, but never has one of them paralyzed the inner working man. * * * But I'm not a poet. Moreover, as I've not yet put off my armor I oughtn't to boast.

So--you've subscribed for the Collected Works. Good! that is what you ought to have done a long time ago. It is what every personal friend of mine ought to have done, for all profess admiration of my work in literature. It is what I was fool enough to permit my publisher to think that many of them would do. How many do you guess have done so? I'll leave you guessing. G.o.d help the man with many friends, for _they_ will not. My royalties on the sets sold to my friends are less than one-fourth of my outlay in free sets for other friends. Tell me not in cheerful numbers of the value and sincerity of friendships.

There! I've discharged my bosom of that perilous stuff and shall take a drink. Here's to you.

Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE.

[Washington, D. C., June 5, 1912.]

DEAR GEORGE,

Thank you for the poems, which I've not had the time to consider--being disgracefully busy in order to get away. I don't altogether share your reverence for Browning, but the primacy of your verses on him over the others printed on the same page is almost startling. * * *

Of course it's all nonsense about the waning of your power--though thinking it so might make it so. My notion is that you've only _begun_ to do things. But I wish you'd go back to your chain in your uncle's office. I'm no believer in adversity and privation as a spur to Pegasus. They are oftener a "hopple." The "meagre, muse-rid mope, adust and thin" will commonly do better work when tucked out with three square meals a day, and having the sure and certain hope of their continuance.

I'm expecting to arrive in Oakland (Key Route Inn, probably) late in the evening of the 22d of this month and dine at Carlt's on the 24th--my birthday. Anyhow, I've invited myself, though it is possible they may be away on their vacation. Carlt has promised to try to get his "leave" changed to a later date than the one he's booked for.

Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE.

P.S.--Just learned that we can not leave here until the 19th--which will bring me into San Francisco on the 26th. Birthday dinner served in diner--last call!

I've _read_ the Browning poem and I now know why there was a Browning.

Providence foresaw you and prepared him for you--blessed be Providence! * * *

Mrs. Havens asks me to come to them at Sag Harbor--and shouldn't I like to! * * * Sure the song of the Sag Harbor frog would be music to me--as would that of the indigenous duckling.

[The Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., December 19, 1912.]

MY DEAR MR. CAHILL,

I thank you for the article from _The Argonaut_, and am glad to get it for a special reason, as it gives me your address and thereby enables me to explain something.

When, several years ago, you sent me a similar article I took it to the editor of The National Geographical Magazine (I am a member of the Society that issues it) and suggested its publication. I left it with him and hearing nothing about it for several months called at his office _twice_ for an answer, and for the copy if publication was refused. The copy had been "mislaid"--lost, apparently--and I never obtained it. Meantime, either I had "mislaid" your address, or it was only on the copy. So I was unable to write you. Indirectly, afterward, I heard that you had left California for parts to me unknown.

Twice since then I have been in San Francisco, but confess that I did not think of the matter.

Cahill's projection[16] is indubitably the right one, but you are "up against" the ages and will be a long time dead before it finds favor, or I'm no true pessimist.

[16] The b.u.t.terfly Map of the World.

Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE.

[The Olympia Apartments, Washington, D. C., January 17, 1913.]

MY DEAR RUTH,

It's "too bad" that I couldn't remain in Oakland and Berkeley another month to welcome you, but I fear it will "have to go at that," for I've no expectation of ever seeing California again. I like the country as well as ever, but I _don't_ like the rule of labor unions, the grafters and the suffragettes. So far as I am concerned they may stew in their own juice; I shall not offer myself as an ingredient.

It is pleasant to know that you are all well, including Johnny, poor little chap.

You are right to study philology and rhetoric. Surely there must be _some_ provision for your need--a university where one cannot learn one's own language would be a funny university.

I think your "Mr. Wells" who gave a course of lectures on essay writing may be my friend Wells Drury, of Berkeley. If so, mention me to him and he will advise you what to do.

Another good friend of mine, whom, however I did not succeed in seeing during either of my visits to California, is W. C. Morrow, who is a professional teacher of writing and himself a splendid writer. He could help you. He lives in San Francisco, but I think has a cla.s.s in Oakland. I don't know his address; you'll find it in the directory.

He used to write stories splendidly tragic, but I'm told he now teaches the "happy ending," in which he is right--commercially--but disgusting. I can cordially recommend him.

Keep up your German and French of course. If your English (your mother speech) is so defective, think what _they_ must be.

I'll think of some books that will be helpful to you in your English.

Meantime send me anything that you care to that you write. It will at least show me what progress you make.

I'm returning some (all, I think) of your sketches. Don't destroy them--yet. Maybe some day you'll find them worth rewriting.

My love to you all.

AMBROSE BIERCE.

[The Olympia, Euclid and 14th Sts., Washington, D. C., January 20, 1913.]

DEAR MR. CAHILL,