Baloo[13] and his cubs went on to Guerneville the day of their return from Carmel. But I saw them. [13] Albert Bierce. I'm deep in work, and shall be for a few weeks; then I shall be off to Carmel for a lungful of sea air and a bellyful of abalones and mussels. I suppose you'll be going to the Midsummer Jinks. Fail not to stop over here--I don't feel that I have really seen you yet. With best regards to Carrie. Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. [The Laguna Vista, Oakland, Sunday, July 24, 1910.] DEAR GEORGE, Supposing you to have gone home, I write to send the poem. Of course it is a good poem. But I begin to want to hear your larger voice again. I want to see you standing tall on the heights--above the flower-belt and the bird-belt. I want to hear, "like Ocean on a western beach, The surge and thunder of the Odyssey," as you _Odyssate_. I _think_ I met that dog * * * to-day, and as it was a choice between kicking him and avoiding him I chose the more prudent course. I've not seen your little sisters--they seem to have tired of me. Why not?--I have tired of myself. Fail not to let me know when to expect you for the Guerneville trip. * * * Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. [The Laguna Vista, October 20, 1910.] I go back to the Inn on Saturday. DEAR GEORGE, It is long since I read the Book of Job, but if I thought it better than your addition to it I should not sleep until I had read it again--and again. Such a superb Who's Who in the Universe! Not a Homeric hero in the imminence of a personal encounter ever did so fine bragging. I hope you will let it into your next book, if only to show that the "inspired" scribes of the Old Testament are not immatchable by modern genius. You know the Jews regard them, not as prophets, in our sense, but merely as poets--and the Jews ought to know something of their own literature. I fear I shall not be able to go to Carmel while you're a widow--I've tangled myself up with engagements again. Moreover, I'm just back from the St. Helena cemetery, and for a few days shall be too blue for companionship. "Shifted" is better, I think (in poetry) than "joggled." You say you "don't like working." Then write a short story. That's work, but you'd like it--or so I think. Poetry is the highest of arts, but why be a specialist? Sincerely yours, AMBROSE BIERCE. [Army and Navy Club, Washington, D. C., November 11, 1910.] DEAR LORA, It is nice to hear from you and learn that despite my rude and intolerant ways you manage to slip in a little affection for me--you and the rest of the folk. And really I think I left a little piece of my heart out there--mostly in Berkeley. It is funny, by the way, that in falling out of love with most of my old sweethearts and semi-sweethearts I should fall _in_ love with my own niece. It is positively scandalous!