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Y'rs telling me of Kennedy's arrival rec'd, & I congratulate you both for you must be having good talks & comparisons & questions & answers galore. Tip-top weather here lately, & I go out in wheel chair (legs feeble, almost worse)—breakfasted to-day on blackberries, tea & bread & honey —perhaps twice a week some roast meat, or mutton chop—oftener stewed mutton & rice, onions, corn & beans, beets, &c: &c:—appetite fair—sleep fair—bowel action yesterday—warm midday as I write but pleasant—I sit here all day in the big cane chair—get along better than you might fancy— Horace comes daily—As I glance out in the street I see the great young-mid-aged ice man going ab't his work bare headed under the sun, up & down, spry & stout & contented—& his huge canvas cover'd wagon (& fat slow horses) rumbling along—the loud long whistle or gong for 1 o'clock is just sounding—the dinner hour over—I can fancy you there & the lawns & shrubbery & veranda & all—& the pleasant sun set hour & evening—& Kennedy's enjoyment of all & yours too (every thing better there than you realize tho')—I send you Critic (nothing much)—If there was a good flying machine running I w'd flit thither & join you & K for a couple of days—

Walt Whitman