If you are not utterly devoured by mosquitoes perhaps you'll go to the
postoffice and get this. In that hope I write, not without a strong
sense of the existence of the clerks in the Dead Letter Office at
Washington.
I hope you are (despite the mosquitoes) having "heaps" of rest and
happiness. As to me, I have only just recovered sufficiently to be
out, and "improved the occasion" by going to San Francisco yesterday
and returning on the 11:15 boat. I saw Richard, and he seemed quite
solemn at the thought of the dispersal of his family to the four
winds.
I have a joyous letter from Leigh dated "on the road," nearing
Yosemite. He has been passing through the storied land of Bret Harte,
and is permeated with a sense of its beauty and romance. When shall
you return? May I hope, then, to see you?
Sincerely yours,
AMBROSE BIERCE.
P.S. Here are things that I cut out for memoranda. On second thought
_I_ know all that; so send them to you for the betterment of your mind
and heart.