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My dear friend,

Your letter is rec'd, having been sent on to me from Washington. My address still remains Solicitor's office, Treasury there. I am moving about a good deal the past year, & shall be for the ensuing year—I am to start for northern New England, & remain awhile—am also arranging for a trip afterward to California—a journey I have had in contemplation for several years, & which has been two or three times fixed, but postponed, during that time.

I have been stopping for two months, (Feb. & March,) home with my Mother, & am writing this home. Mother is towards eighty—has had an active domestic & maternal life—has had eight children—has brought them all up—has been healthy & strong, always worked hard—now shows the infirmities of age (indeed rapidly advancing) but looks finely, & is cheerful hearted—will probably soon give up her housekeeping & go to live with one of my brothers, who is married—My father died seventeen years since.

Dear friend, I am quite sure that every one of your letters has safely reached me—sometimes after delays & circuits, (as you will now understand better) on account of my more & more frequent wanderings—The letter with the photographs gave me great pleasure—& was acknowledged by a letter I sent you—Have you not received it?

Walt Whitman

Dear friend, let me warn you somewhat about myself—& yourself also. You must not construct such an unauthorized & imaginary ideal Figure, & call it W. W. and so devotedly invest your loving nature in it. The actual W. W. is a very plain personage, & entirely unworthy such devotion.