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  My dear Walt Whitman,

Just a line or two of loving remembrance & good wishes.—I hope that you are better than you were, & that the summer weather is doing you good. How I should like to hear that you are able to get out in it with good results!

We have had glorious weather here for several days,—bright   & warm—even hot at times—but with pleasant breezes. Saturday & Sunday especially were almost perfect days.—I spent all the time I could in the open air, wandering about Rivington & absorbing its perfect summer beauty.—If only I could transfer some of it to my letter & convey the bright sunshine & grateful warmth & balmy blossom scented air to you!

But I took no notes & gave myself up wholly to the influences of the time.   And how little can any picture—on canvas or in words—convey of the real impressions made upon one, with their infinite complexity & harmony, & their mysterious relation to the absorbing tallying soul.—

Tonight, as I write, the sky is clouded & threatens rain. But that too will be grateful after the hot days.

I fear the effects of   the excessive heat reported from New York upon you, but hope for the best.

With love to you always Yours affectionately J.W. Wallace