Dear Old Man:—

It gave me a thrill to see your handwriting on a package yesterday, and the contents made me happy.

What could I say about the book that I have not already either written or said about your poetry? I know many of the poems, tho' several of the finest are new to me. "Tidal" is a musical wonder & crammed with the old mystery of poetry.

I'm devilish proud of you, Sterling — yes, and fond of you.

One of these times I may write about some of the newer poems in detail.

How are you? Fairly happy? Fairly happy is enough in this stage of the long game.

Yesterday I invaded the country of the cottontails to some effect. Never used a shot-gun before — always a rifle; but I find that a shot-gun after a rifle is like prose after poetry — easy enough. However, I fancy a shot-gun won't teach rifle-shooting. Saw a gray wolf's a — going over a branch of slough-grass, but didn't get close enough for the scatteration gun.

"Hugh Glass" is once more pushing on, after a week or two spent on a short-story. The latter is called "The Red Roan Mare." I needed the money, damnit!

2,100 lines on "Glass". 700 more to do.
Always yours,