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Dearest mother,

I am still anchored here—sit up some, but only for a short spell at a time—am feeble, and have distress in the head—these are the worst features—but am gradually regaining the use of my left limbs—very, very slowly, but certainly gaining—Doctor only comes now every other day—

As I write Mrs. O'Connor is sitting here in the room, mending some stockings &c for me—she has brought me some nice roast apple in a tumbler—It is a dark wet day to-day—not very favorable—

Mother dear, I rec'd your letter, acknowledging the money—I have written a short letter to Hannah, & also one to Jeff—which they must have rec'd by this time—

I keep up my spirits very well—do not need for any thing—Love to you, & all, dearest mother,

Walt.

I have tacked your picture up on the wall at the foot of the bed—the one I like—it looks as natural as can be—& is quite company for me—as I am alone a good deal, (& prefer to be)—