Of course I won’t be able to get to N.Y. now for any summer vacation. You know what a privation that means to me. I have nothing in sight in the way of employment,--and as times are so bad,--I don’t know when I shall. A job as copy-writer for an advertising house will probably be open to me about June 1st. And there is a newspaper opening out here soon,--perhaps that may yield me something. I have a roof over my head and food, anyway--here at home--and maybe I shall write something. The best thing is that [the] cloud of my father is beginning to move from the horizon now, you have never known me when it has not been there--and in time we _both_ may discover some new things in me. _Bridges burn’t behind!_ Glad you like “Estador.” I’m beginning to myself. I cannot quite accept your word changes although I’m far from satisfied with it. But the more I work over it the less I seem likely to be,--so I’m going to try it on _The Dial_.--Anything for some money now. 63: TO GORHAM MUNSON [_Cleveland_] _May 3rd 21_ My dear Gorham: --/--/ I feel sure S[ommer]’s work is as important as any contemporary work anywhere, and I’m very interested to hear what you will think. I wish I were better trained for analysis of this kind of work,--but as it is I can only “feel” the power of it. I may send you a few of his drawings at any time,--and later if you have time around N.Y. after school is out, you might care to show some of them to people who could give him a chance perhaps, of exhibition somewhere. --/--/ I agree with you about your distinction between the earlier and later Anderson. I have never got hold of _Windy McPherson’s Son_, but I never could clap very loudly for _Marching Men_, although I imagine that it is an improvement on the former. He, I understand, is anxious for these two books’ extinction. They will probably never be issued by the publisher again. I’m anxious to read his “Out of Nowhere into Nothing” that _The Dial_ announces for three summer issues. By the way, a new book of essays by my acquaintance, Charles S. Brooks, has a chapter in it, “A Modern Poet,” which is a burlesque on me, the Baroness, and my rooms over _The Little Review_ on 16th Street. His effort is all the funnier for the especial lack of comprehension he has for _The L.R._ and “modern poetry.” I promise you a laugh or two anyway. The Yale Press has just got it out,--its title is _Hints to Pilgrims_. Brooks lives a few houses down the street from me here, but at that time he was a New Yorker, and used to be very hospitable to me with theatres and dinner at his apartment on 10th St. --/--/ 64: TO GORHAM MUNSON [_Cleveland_] _May 16th, ’21_