
I met Maurice Barrymore, the actor who was playing in "Held by the Enemy" at the Academy last week. He asked about you with the deepest interest, and said he would write to you during his present engagement in New York, where he now is—
He is wonderfully bright & entertaining and holds you in affectionate &
reverent memory.
The election of Harrison, toward which event I worked with all the vim in me, seems to put a little better lining on the edge
of the clouds which, in spite of myself seem to have
"encompassed me about" for the past two years. I can, at least, get my old place
back again and may get something better. I am still writing for the Times.
Mrs Scovel bid me say that she wants to come & see you. Dear Walt! My most pleasing recollections of Camden are associated with that old House in Arch St., the quiet Sunday dinners, and the blazing Hickory fire before which you used to [illegible]. Well: maybe they will all come again. With best wishes I am Affect'ly yours
James M Scovel
PS Maybe when as Bryant says "The May sun sheds an amber light, the new-leaved woods and lawns between,"—maybe, we can drive down again to Gloucester and with the generous "Statesman" Thompson, partake of the toothsome shad, and the "wine divine from the Champagne county. Walt: these were pleasant Hours.
