Since coming here I have been ill all the time, but it seems my duty to remain as long as there is a hope that I _can_ remain. If I get free from my disorder and the fear of it I shall go down to San Francisco some day and then try to see your people and mine. Perhaps you would help me to find my brother's new house--if he is living in it. With sincere regards to all your family, I am most truly your friend, AMBROSE BIERCE. Your letters are very pleasing to me. I think it nice of you to write them. [St. Helena, August 17, 1892.] DEAR BLANCHE, It was not that I forgot to mail you the magazine that I mentioned; I could not find it; but now I send it. My health is bad again, and I fear that I shall have to abandon my experiment of living here, and go back to the mountain--or some mountain. But not directly. You asked me what books would be useful to you--I'm assuming that you've repented your sacrilegious attitude toward literature, and will endeavor to thrust your pretty head into the crown of martyrdom otherwise. I may mention a few from time to time as they occur to me. There is a little book entitled (I think) simply "English Composition." It is by Prof. John Nichol--elementary, in a few places erroneous, but on the whole rather better than the ruck of books on the same subject. Read those of Landor's "Imaginary Conversations" which relate to literature. Read Longinus, Herbert Spencer on Style, Pope's "Essay on Criticism" (don't groan--the detractors of Pope are not always to have things their own way), Lucian on the writing of history--though you need not write history. Read poor old obsolete Kames' notions; some of them are not half bad. Read Burke "On the Sublime and Beautiful." Read--but that will do at present. And as you read don't forget that the rules of the literary art are deduced from the work of the masters who wrote in ignorance of them or in unconsciousness of them. That fixes their value; it is secondary to that of _natural_ qualifications. None the less, it is considerable. Doubtless you have read many--perhaps most--of these things, but to read them with a view to profit _as a writer_ may be different. If I could get to San Francisco I could dig out of those artificial memories, the catalogues of the libraries, a lot of titles additional--and get you the books, too. But I've a bad memory, and am out of the Book Belt.