June 17
John, I have just been reading your Galaxy article, seated by the open window front room in my shirt sleeves, & must write a word about it—Your late pieces show marked vitality—vivacity (struggling, almost chafing, underneath a continent, respectable form or exterior) & this is the best of them—has those peculiarities, not without one or two foibles, but the whole of the piece is glorious—leaves the impression now upon me (after two readings) of the noblest piece of criticism on these things yet in America—as much nobler than the superb Emersonian pages on those subjects as lines & opinions with the blood of life & throb of hot conviction in them, are nobler than the superbest Marble–statue lines—
It would be possible that I might be swayed into a warm feeling about the piece by the magnificent & very 'cute page about me, but as it happens by accident I had look'd over & read the piece in parts, accidentally omitting at first the entire lines in the second column of the page about me (which finally please me best)—& had made up my mind very decidedly as aforesaid—then when I did read them, you can imagine they didn't hurt me much—nor my estimation of the piece—
I have much to write—or tell you—about my own concerns—things in England—here too—&c &c—have been waiting for the chance to write you fully ever since I got your kind generous note & present—but it dont don't seem to occur—Physically I am not much different—get along about as well as usual these times—am now just going down to an old farm house & big family, down in Jersey at White Horse, to spend a couple of days—and it is now (4½ p m) while I am waiting for the hack to come & take me to the depot that I write this—
George and Lou are well—baby only pretty well—hot weather, & teething—(but behaves like a little hero)—expect my two nieces here next week from St Louis—Love to 'Sula—Write soon—
Walt