My dear Mr. Chapman:—

I am glad you cared about the review and hope it may do some good. I assure you it is not my habit to overpraise. I rather love an honest "roast"—especially when the subject is concerned with some of our too common sentimental gush and slipshod thinking. Lord! But aren't there a lot of make-believes amongst us! Therefor my article about what struck me as an honest book. Of course, you won't reach the Philistine — and who cares? If you get a fair amount of enjoyment out of being yourself and writing the truth as you see it, in a beautiful way—that's about all you can expect. Here & there will be found quiet thinkers who will care about your work, though only a small percentage will even let you know.

Just now I am feeding your title essay to a boy disciple of mine. This boy is an experiment of mine. Common fellow, sixteen years old; common family. I I took him up four years ago. He was reading Henty and other similar concoctions! how he knows a great many of the classics. The other day he went to work on a farm with a copy of Murray's Oedipus in his pocket!

Your essay sums up all I have tried to breathe into him—and so I gave it to him. Well, that one boy is something of an audience!

Best wishes—

Jno. G. Neihardt