and satire of this kind of theme depends on a continued heaping-up and heaping-up of absurd detail, etc., until a climacteric of either bitterness or farce is reached. For example,--have you read Gogol’s “The Cloak,” ever? I don’t know what Hervey White did to it,--but I would mistrust him of any improvement on it after reading his comments on Frank’s _Our America_. -- -- -- -- I am as anti-Semitic as they make ’em, but Frank’s comments cannot afford to be ignored merely because of race prejudice. White is just an ordinary ass, though, and can easily be disposed of. I don’t understand, though, how you can consent to such “alterations” in your mss. I’m very glad you sent the poem. It begins well,--dramatically, and maintains itself well until the last two lines. They are an appendix which I’d remove--merely repetition of better phrases in the beginning. Why not divide up the second verse into two equal parts and have three quartet-line verses? Another thing,--the “shoot-the-chutes” image jars,--one wants to laugh,--and one shouldn’t--something else there would be better. Also, why use a French title? I know it’s “done in the best families,” but there seems a touch of servility,--inadequacy about it to me. I’d send it to _The Dial_ if I had it, and be quite proud of it whether taken or not. Josephson writes me that _The Dial_ is causing a great stir, but that clique favoritism, the old familiar and usual magazine button, is beginning to become evident. J’s letters are charming, and a recent love affair of his, a disappointment, has added seasoning to his observations. I only hope that you, he, and Anderson continue to keep me awake [?] with occasional mail. I had a long and hypocritical conference with my father today, and succeeded to the extent of a five dollar per week raise in salary,--this makes existence at least possible. I don’t know, G., whether I’m strong and hardened or not. I know that I am forced to be very flexible to get along at all under present conditions. I contrive to humanize my work to some extent by much camaraderie with the other employees and this is my salvation there. Of course I am utterly alone,--want to be,--and am beginning to rather enjoy the slippery scales-of-the-fish, continual escape, attitude. The few people that I can give myself to are out of physical reach, and so I can only write where I would like to talk, gesture, and dine. The most revolting sensation I experience is the feeling of having placed myself in a position of quiescence or momentary surrender to the contact & possession of the insensitive fingers of my neighbors here. I am learning, just beginning to learn,--the technique of escape, and too often yet, I betray myself by some enthusiasm or other. My Akron friend has not been able to see me for some five [?] weeks, and I am in need of a balm, spiritual and fleshly. I hope next Sunday something can be arranged. -- -- -- -- 40: TO MATTHEW JOSEPHSON _Cleveland_ _March 15th --’20_