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Thanks for kind letter & the bit poem—like a real star-twinkle. I continue sick but move slowly toward recuperation. The liver begins to act. It has not been an engorgement or any thing like it. The basic situation I take to be this—that just now the liver is the seat of, & concentrates, that markedly defective enervation which my paralysis of '73​ to '7​ &c. has left me for life. The doctor comes every day—(old school, but receptive & progressive—believes more in drugs & medicines than I do, but so far his diagnosis seems thorough, & his doses are justified by results)—About that Heywood, Boston, arrest, mustn't there be some mistake? The Chainey affair certainly settled the U. S. mail part—but the Mass:​ statutes on printed "indecency" are sweepingly stringent I believe. Do you know that Rand & Avery refused to print an edition of L of G.​ for me, after the Osgood row?—afraid of indictment—Where is Charley Eldridge's address?

Walt Whitman