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NEWELL-EMMETT COMPANY 120 WEST 32ND STREET NEW YORK

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Dear Mr. Anderson If I keep on waiting until I find time to write you the letter I've been thinking about it, it never will get written. Every little while I run across something in one of your books that I feel like writing you about and so the letter I owe you keeps growing into more and more of a monumental job in my mind, getting itself postponed accordingly. Your passage in "Poor White" about Geers, the page or two in "unclear" about two sides of village life and the old gossips, the "Notes on Standardization", "I don't have to write; I am he? a tramp" -- these are merely? a few things I recall off hand; because this is not the letter I've been thinking about. This is a hurry-up letter in the midst of a busy afternoon in the office, written because I'm