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  My dearest friend,

Yesterday morning I received your kind postcard of the 16th inst., & in the afternoon Johnston received one dated the 12th.

I am very sorry if a phrase of ours has led you to suppose that any of your letters or p.c.s have not been delivered. I think we have received them all,—& usually very promptly, though occasionally there is a curious delay like the one mentioned above.

 

It is a constant wonder to us that you should write so often as you do. I feel sometimes that we are somehow guilty in taxing you so much. For it pains me to think of the effort it must cost you at times in your weakness & suffering. But, oh, how precious your messages are!—even less for their news of you (welcomed as that is) than for the wonderful loving-kindness that inspires them, & the indomitable will & serene good cheer they reveal.

 

I wish that our letters were a better return. But after the day's work, & amid other calls, it is not easy to write as one would like. But Johnston & I have determined to let no mail go henceforward (if we can help it) without some reminder of our constant loving thoughts & wishes.

I am glad to note from both p.c.s that you were fairly well "considering," & that you were standing the oppressive heat pretty well. But I long to hear some better news—of some gain   & of your getting out more into the open air.

We look forward to the July number of Lippincotts & will get copies as soon as it appears.

We have had close sultry weather for 2 or 3 days with rain & thunder storms in the evenings. Tonight, however, is pretty fair, with only occasional very slight showers. As I write the dusk is closing in, & a lark is singing out in the field opposite my window. I cannot write any more tonight.—I send   love to Traubel, Warry & Mrs Davis.

With supreme love & best wishes to you Yours affectionately J.W. Wallace