Dear Seymour:-

The packet of books has not yet reached the house, but I am waiting breathlessly with pen in hand. I need practice anyway, as I shall have to sign a thousand copies of the de luxe ​ edition of the WAR between now and middle January.

Listen! Are you there?

Well, I've just gotten Macmillans to agree to pay a larger royalty than they offered for my Collected Poems, to be issued in the fall of '25. I used to be afraid to say anything in my own interest; but I'm over forty, and one changes. They propose to reset all my poetry for the Collected Edition and make a fine book. 750 pages!

That is really bully news about Mrs. Seymour's book on the Indian, and I'm glad Macmillans are to have it. I shall look forward to that book; I mean that I shall look forward to reading it. So often that sort of thing is just said to be agreeable. As Allen True wrote me recently: "Kindest regards and all that sort of bally-rot!"

Many thanks for the Little Blue Book by Mrs. Seymour. I'll devour that tonight after the family is planted up stairs.

Yours always,

Jno. Neihardt

Should I try to fatten up a bit for that banquet? Piece de resistance! Roasted? Or pickled?