Across the Spectrum:The Interdisciplinary Life and Letters of John G. Neihardt (‘Flaming Rainbow’)

You gave the Cycle review on the 17th, when I began this chronicle. Tell me about it, please. How I wish I could have been there! And soon you will be giving the Lyric program!!

Last Sunday I had a Sorority lunch, dinner with the English Dept at Dickinson's home, and a talk at the Evangelical Student Center. (at 7:30) The dinner (banquet!) of the Assn. of Women Students was a success. The Student Union ballroom was full of tables and ladies. The audience sat perfectly still — not a movement that I saw; and at the end it exploded! I had the floor afterward & could have done more & more. I merely thanked them and said (speaking of Sitting Bull's old wife: "I like that old woman. She loved her man, and he loved his horse (laughter). But he loved her too; for did he not obey her at the end, and die as she wished him to do?" Next Monday I must do lyrics for the Business Women at a dinner at Breisch's. They have the whole dining room. Not a good place to talk, but I'll be in the middle, at one side, and shoot both ways.

I want you to see Schmitt's letter, just rec'd.

Today Enid & I went to town and I bought a lot of tea roses, some for her & some for Skyrim. Also I bought a nice Japanese cherry tree to replace the Tree of Life in the prayer garden. It is a fast grower and a riotous bloomer.

(I keep seeing the lavender dress, for some reason or other).

Mona (Fink) seems pleased that you asked her to hunt letters. She doesn't say anything, but when I mentioned the matter, she smiled happily!

We're sailing along in Epic America. Fine big class — good, eager faces. We've begun Jed Smith. My poetry class is very much worth while. Eleven are left of 15 who tried, and about 9 of the 11 are very able. Yesterday I had them reading blank verse aloud. We're going to write it next.

Three of the class reads with expression, and I had a strangely happy time listening. They read some Edwin Markham and two from Tennyson — Ulysses and Morte d'Arthur. Some of it seemed so beautiful to me that I could feel a chestful of tears and something crawling up the back of my neck to the top of my head(!). I did not let the class know, of course; but if I were given to tears, I would have cried. So much is more beautiful to me than before.

A New Yorker wants television rights for When the Tree Flowered.