I'm sure you performed your part of that concert creditably despite the ailing wrist, and wish that I might have added myself to your triumph. I have been very ill again but hope to get away from here (back to my mountain) before it is time for another attack from my friend the enemy. I shall expect to see you there sometime when my brother and his wife come up. They would hardly dare to come without you. No, I did not read the criticism you mention--in the _Saturday Review_. Shall send you all the _Saturdays_ that I get if you will have them. Anyhow, they will amuse (and sometimes disgust) your father. I have awful arrears of correspondence, as usual. The children send love. They had a pleasant visit with Carlt, and we hope he will come again. May God be very good to you and put it into your heart to write to your uncle often. Please give my best respects to all Partingtons, jointly and severally. AMBROSE BIERCE. [Angwin, November 29, 1892.] DEAR BLANCHE, Only just a word to say that I have repented of my assent to your well-meant proposal for your father to write of _me_. If there is anything in my work in letters that engages his interest, or in my _literary_ history--that is well enough, and I shall not mind. But "biography" in the other sense is distasteful to me. I never read biographical "stuff" of other writers--of course you know "stuff" is literary slang for "matter"--and think it "beside the question." Moreover, it is distinctly mischievous to letters. It throws no light on one's work, but on the contrary "darkens counsel." The only reason that posterity judges work with some slight approach to accuracy is that posterity knows less, and cares less, about the author's personality. It considers his work as impartially as if it had found it lying on the ground with no footprints about it and no initials on its linen. My brother is not "fully cognizant" of my history, anyhow--not of the part that is interesting. So, on the whole, I'll ask that it be not done. It was only my wish to please that made me consent. That wish is no weaker now, but I would rather please otherwise. I trust that you arrived safe and well, and that your memory of those few stormy days is not altogether disagreeable. Sincerely your friend, AMBROSE BIERCE. [Angwin, December 25, 1892.] MY DEAR BLANCHE, Returning here from the city this morning, I find your letter. And I had not replied to your last one before that! But _that_ was because I hoped to see you at your home. I was unable to do so--I saw no one (but Richard) whom I really wanted to see, and had not an hour unoccupied by work or "business" until this morning. And then--it was Christmas, and my right to act as skeleton at anybody's feast by even so much as a brief call was not clear. I hope my brother will be as forgiving as I know you will be.