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 substitute?
* * * * *
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 Hells, 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. God 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.]