Dear Old Man:—

How are you and what are you doing? When I last heard from you, the outlook wasn't merry; but I'm happy by this time you have got the [grip?] again.

What of the world—Tramp you mentioned as a probability? It would be fine in a way, but don't you need a scholar's seclusion & quiet for your real work? Don't you think constant change of scene & The state of mind that wandering gives would tend Toward scatteration? No vagabond could have done your splendid sonnets.

Sterling, I think a great deal about you, you seem like a relative who has always been far enough away to remain a bit mysterious.

I often think of your Trouble & feel hurt. It's a shame that you couldn't just go on greatly doing what you are so wonderfully fitted to do. I know all about the Gospel of Suffering. Much of it is [?]; some of it is true. It seems to me, though, that pain is good for discipline only in the early [plastic?] stage. Later a man needs peace & a steady purpose. I should like to think of you growing old in Carmel. People [mouth?] about the world as though it were something distant that one must reach by a journeyand it is right here at any door among the cornfield. I have found as much superficiality among the learned in [cities?] as among the bumptrous members of our rural woman's clubs. I have no desire to knock about. Did you ever see anything new or strange? Did you? It's such an old story when a fellow gets there.

Do you ever read Greek or Latin? All winter I've slept 3 hours a night on Greek, & I look forward to that time as to a vacation. All day I read & discuss modern things & at night there's that wonderland waiting.

I spend Fridays, Saturdays & Sundays on my "Song of Hugh Glass", & the thing forges ahead in a way that surprises me. Have been getting 50 lines per week on the average. There is no padding in it. Old man, I believe I'm getting something worth while. Hope to finish by May.

Wish I could see you & have a hell of a good pow-wow with you!

Affectionately

Jno. N.

Have had two fine letters from E.A. Robinson lately.

How about picking out poems?

Did I send copy of "Thirst of Satan?"