Five pages about Eugene Field's ancestors. All dead.
17 + 4 + 5 = 26.
36 - 26 = 10.
Two pages about Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Three-fourths page about a bad poet and his indifference to—German.
Two pages of his poetry.
2 + ¾ + 2 = 4¾.
10 - 4¾ = 5¼. Not enough to criticise.
What your magazine needs is an editor—presumably older, preferably American, and indubitably alive. At least awake. It is your inning.
Sincerely yours, Ambrose Bierce.