As to * * * the Superb. Isn't Sag Harbor somewhere near Saybrook, Connecticut, at the mouth of the river of that name? I'm going there for a month with Percival Pollard. Shall leave here about the first of July. If Sag Harbor is easily accessible from there, and * * * would care to see me, I'll go and call on her. * * * But maybe I'd fall in love with her and, being now (alas) eligible, just marry her alive!--or be turned down by her, to the unspeakable wrecking of my peace! I'm only a youth--63 on the 24th of this month--and it would be too bad if I got started wrong in life. But really I don't know about the good taste of being jocular about * * *. I'm sure she must be a serious enough maiden, with the sun of a declining race yellow on her hair. Eva Crawford thinks her most lovable--and Eva has a clear, considering eye upon you all. * * * * * I'm going to send up my canoe to Saybrook and challenge the rollers of the Sound. Don't you fear--I'm an expert canoeist from boyhood. * * * Sincerely, AMBROSE BIERCE. [Washington, D. C., December 3, 1905.] DEAR GEORGE, I have at last the letter that I was waiting for--didn't answer the other, for one of mine was on the way to you. * * * * * You need not worry yourself about your part of the business. You have acted "mighty white," as was to have been expected of you; and, caring little for any other feature of the matter, I'm grateful to you for giving my pessimism and growing disbelief in human disinterestedness a sound wholesome thwack on the mazzard. * * * * * Yes, I was sorry to whack London, for whom, in his character as author, I have a high admiration, and in that of publicist and reformer a deep contempt. Even if he had been a personal friend, I should have whacked him, and doubtless much harder. I'm not one of those who give their friends carte blanche to sin. If my friend dishonors himself he dishonors me; if he makes a fool of himself he makes a fool of me--which another cannot do. * * * * * Your description of your new environment, in your other letter, makes me "homesick" to see it. I cordially congratulate you and Mrs. Sterling on having the sense to do what I have always been too indolent to do--namely as you please. Guess I've been always too busy "warming both hands before the fire of life." And now, when "It sinks and I am ready to depart," I find that the damned fire was in _me_ and ought to have been quenched with a dash of cold sense. I'm having my canoe decked and yawl-rigged for deep water and live in the hope of being drowned according to the dictates of my conscience. By way of proving my power of self-restraint I'm going to stop this screed with a whole page unused. Sincerely yours, as ever, AMBROSE BIERCE. [Washington, D. C., February 3, 1906.] DEAR GEORGE,