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  Dear friend Walt,

I have not written to you all these years because I knew there were many others waiting for a word or line and I could not bear to add even a feathers weight to your burden. I should not do so now only I think I am getting to feel a little hungry for a sight of your hand writing once more, and a few lines of remembrance and affection.

Mr Arthur Stedman came to see me several times last week and gave me lots of information about you and your surroundings and   friends in Camden. That was all good and I was indeed grateful for it, but I want just a few lines from you if you feel able to write.

What a long hard hill and strain it has been for you the last fifteen years. My eyes fill with tears when I think of it. I knew you, as you know, in your splendid health and prime, and so realize the more keenly perhaps, what the loss of all that has been and is to you. I know you have had a poor spell lately. Are you growing better? Let me know dearest Walt just how you are.

We are all about as usual in Woodside. Emily and her family are prospering. Her oldest boy nearly 21 is with Arthur in Florida. He resigned from the Navy several years ago, and is very cheerful and   contented in Florida on his orange grove; he writes me that he is a good deal of a Hermit down there. Abby has grown up into a beautiful young lady and quite accomplished in music. The twins are fine boys The one I have is a Stenographer in a lawyers office. He is truly the chief comfort of my life. Walter is a fine handsome little fellow now about 11, and crazy for horses; can ride horse back, drive a four in hand, and in fact cares very little for anything else.

I live very quietly in my little cottage, rent the lower floor and though I feel cramped a good deal sometimes by poverty, yet am thankful to be as well off as I am.

I was very much surprised to hear of Jeff's death. What was the cause? and are his daughters married? and where are they? George and Lou I should like to hear about them and above all   Eddie Mr. S. told me he was living.

There is a matter that has come to my notice lately that I am very anxious to get at the truth about, and is one reason for writing to you now.

When you revised the matter for Dr Bucke's book at our house did you do so from the original documents or from proof sheets of the same. The letter he published written by you to my mother about the hospitals and sacred almost to me came back torn and mutilated A change was made in the wording and meaning of a sentence and the correction torn out. There was not a line or erasure anywhere else on the letter, though you made a number of changes yourself, I think from the proof sheets. Let me know please dear Walt what you remember about it It is important to me though I shall make no use of the information whatever. I only want to be sure that it was not you that multilated it.

Mr S. showed me the large last edition of Leaves of Grass. Also November Boughs which I had not seen. How much is it a copy. I must have one.

Talking with him brought up the old times so vividly. When our dearest mothers were living and well. Those dear old days are gone never to return again. Ah me! Life is somewhat of a tragedy, is it not?

Write me soon if you feel able, dear Walt. I am so desirous of knowing that you are better

Affectionately Helen