Dear Comrade:-

Your letters get here all right, and I'm always thrilled when I see one in the box. Lord, man, how I wish you could be here now and take a canoe trip up the White River with me! We'd be savages in bathing suits during the day, and we'd sit around a camp fire and talk about the cosmos half the night. Now and then I get devilish hungry to see your face with that glow on it. I don't suppose you know what I mean. You probably never looked in the glass when you were glowing!

We are swamped in the watermelons, peaches, apples, etc - wonderful fruit and dirt cheap. Finest Elberta peaches - big luscious devils - selling in the country for ten cents a bushel. The poor hill billies look foward to midsummer for a little real cash; but this year the strike kept the tourists away, and there's no market for anything. It's pitiful. What a hell of a system! Too much here, too little there, no adequate means of distributing so that all may have. God Almighty must bust out laughing frequently.

Wagons by the dozens pass our house daily all loaded with melons & fruit.

The more I think about Macmillians the more I think about our proposed company. It would be a fine adventure, surely. And if we could make it win (and why not?), what a tradition to hand down! Profits actually going back into the business to boost the cycle. That's what I'd want. But, of course, if we interest somebody's money, there'll have to dividends, I suppose.

Yes, we could sell the Wars, and all the other books

Wagons by the dozen pass our house daily all loaded with melons, fruit.

I'm getting into the Beecher Island fight on the Rickaree fork of the Republican. Have managed to make the transition from the fighting in the North to the fighting in the south rather gracefully, I think. Half the skill of writing is in handling transitions. Flow is so damned important.

Damn it, it seems that you just have to be here for a canoe trip! Such swimming! I'm getting to be a regular fish, and the kids are the same. You should see Enid swimming the trudgen stroke like an expert! And Sig fools around in deep water as though he were made of cork. This morning we got up at five o'clock and went down to Blue Hole for a plunge before breakfast. Cold! Lord! It was ice water; and the steam was rising from it when we jumped in, because the air was warmer, and the air at five o'clock in the morning isn't very warm here at this season. We came back through the sunrise, and watched the blue fog making the hills grotesque.

Lots of love always,


Something to remember when we're gray!

Neihardt Branson, Mo
Branson Jan 19 [?] - PM 1932 MO.

Washington Mount Vernon 2¢ United States Postage 2¢

Dr. J.T. House, New River City College Montgomery, West Virginia