from a poem entitled, I think, "The Washers of the Shroud." I found it in the "Atlantic," in the summer of 1864, while at home from the war suffering from a wound, and—disgraceful fact!—have never seen nor heard of it since. If the magazine was a current number, as I suppose, it should be easy to find the poem. If you look it up tell me about it. I don't even know the author—had once a vague impression that it was Lowell but don't know.
The compound "mulolatry," which I made in "Ashes of the Beacon," would not, of course, be allowable in composition altogether serious. I used it because I could not at the moment think of the right word, "gyneolatry," or "gynecolatry," according as you make use of the nominative or the accusative. I once made "caniolatry" for a similar reason—just laziness. It's not nice to do things o' that kind, even in newspapers.
* * *
I had intended to write you something of "beesness," but time is up and it must wait. This letter is insupportably long already.
My love to Carrie and Katie. Sincerely yours, Ambrose Bierce.
Army and Navy Club,
Washington, D. C.,
May 16,
1905.
Dear George,
Bailey Millard is editor of "The Cosmopolitan Magazine," which Mr. Hearst has bought. I met him in New York two weeks ago. He had just arrived and learning from Hearst that I was in town looked me up. I had just recommended him to Hearst as editor. He had intended him for associate editor. I think that will give you a chance, such as it is. Millard dined with me and I told him the adventures of "A Wine of Wizardry." I shall send it to him as soon as he has warmed his seat, unless you would prefer to send it yourself. He already knows my whole good opinion of it, and he shares my good opinion of you.
I suppose you are at your new ranch, but I shall address this letter as usual.