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My dear D L

Y'rs of 21st rec'd & welcomed—the Cal[ifornia] papers rec'd—I am sitting here 2d story room, in big ratan chair with wolf–skin spread back—pretty cold spell of weather here but sun out today pleasant. Am getting along much in the same old way, rather a let down in health even f'm what it was—grip (pretty bad) bladder trouble & (probably) catarrh of bowels—but I keep up sort o' & was out yesterday noon a short jaunt in wheel chair—have a good oak fire & comfortable & plenty to eat (but no appetite)—Ed Stead (driver hansom) was here Aug: 20 last—havn't seen him since—I never heard whether you rec'd the books I sent you by express package directed to you care O K Lerris Hotel Butte City Montana (sent June 4 last from here)—when you next write tell.

Ingersoll's lecture on me here, is to be printed in a little book in N Y. & I will send it to you soon as I get it—Warren Fritzinger is still with me—Mrs: Davis is well—Have had a depressed gloomy week—my brother Jeff (T J Whitman) died last Tuesday in St Louis, Mo: was a civil engineer—Hear often f'm Dr Bucke my Canada friend—Horace Traubel comes in every day—I contemplate a little 2d annex to L of G. & am fashioning at it—am writing a little for outside (for order)—but pieces I volunteer (to magazines &c) are quite always sent back rejected. I suppose you got my last I sent.

God bless you— Walt Whitman