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  Dear Walt,

I have just come from Oak Hill. My first visit to William's grave since last July when I went away. The ivy that we planted is growing well, & I plucked a few leaves  for you. By & by I can send you a root. Can you think that his body lies there? I can not realize it, yet I laid him away. How very strange it all is. It is a perfect day, & the dandelions are in bloom. Where do you think  William is, for that is only the worn out machine in which he manifested himself while here. I wonder & wonder, & think of it all so much, sometimes I almost feel him here.

I was glad of your letter. How I envy you your boy Horace! if  I had some one to give me a lift in my work, it would be a boon, but I guess my lesson in life is to learn to stand alone. I shall get to a place by & by where I shall have some report to make perhaps, but now there is nothing to show for it all. I, too, got a similar  announcement from Charles Eldridge, of his marriage. I hope that he will be very happy. I trust that all is as well as usual with you.

Love always— from yours as ever— Ellen M. O'Connor.

Some day I hope to get time to write to Dr. Bucke.