His rallying cry to _The Egoist_ stirs my egoist soul to its depth. Ever since I have known this journal I have felt it to be the finest, freest, frankest, bravest avenue of expression in English ever opened to the creative literary mind, in all its variety of faculty, without having the least bias or prejudice as to any one variety. That _The Little Review_ should respond to this rallying cry would add a still deeper and stronger point to my already deep and strong interest in this brave little (?) magazine. Fear Not Mrs. O. D. J.: I have great faith in the artistic life of America and I don’t think Ezra Pound’s notions of it are very healthy. I sincerely hope the trend of it will not emulate the “smart” or dissipated literature which seems to please London and which can hardly come under the head of “good letters.” America must not necessarily be content with jejune flows of words. Really the only half interesting articles that appeared in the May number were Eliot’s and Pound’s—the former because it was about as good as _The Smart Set_ and the latter on account of auld lang syne. My harshness is really flattering because it shows that I expect better things from the “cultured” English. [We will take this opportunity of answering all those who have verbally or in letters expressed the fear that _The Little Review_ will entirely change its nature and be influenced in the future by its Foreign Editor. I do not want to be flippant, but indeed little faith is shown in us by all those who have known our struggle to be what we believe, and our financial struggle to be at all. Fear not, dear ones. We have learned to be penny wise; we will not be Pound foolish. We agree with Pound in the spirit; if we don’t always agree with him in the letter be sure we will mention it. And Pound didn’t slip up on us unaware. A mutual misery over the situation brought us together. And you, dear Mrs. O. D. J., what made you think that Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot were “cultured” English? Because geese are white and float upon water they are not necessarily swans. Pound too seems to have enough faith in “good letters” to spare a little for America and share “cultured” English with her. Healthy? The unhealth is in the artistic life of America; and whatever the ailment, bitter and acid medicine seems necessary to cure it. America must not be content for a great while with the stuff produced here—jejune flows of words about popularizing art, home-town poets and great American novelists, and never-been-abroad painters. This seems to content it well enough now. But I congratulate you on being able to read _The Smart Set_ as literature. Maybe the audience will after all produce the art. I wonder....] A Poet’s Opinion Maxwell Bodenheim, New York: