Default Metadata, or override by section

  1873 1873 or '4 Dear Pete,

There is nothing new or different with me—I am no better in any respect—don't know what is going to come out of it all—We are having pretty hot weather here just now, but it does not affect me much—it is not near as oppressive here as the Washington heat—I rec'd your letter my dear son—with the paper—I will write more to-morrow—

 

Wednesday afternoon.

Pete I have little to write to you about, as I remain anchored here in the house nearly all the time. As I write I am sitting in my mother's former room, in her old arm chair—Spend a great deal of my time here, as I haven't felt like going out lately—half a block tires me. Pete, my darling son, I still think I shall weather it, but time only can show—

—Mother's death is on my mind yet—time does not lift the cloud from me at all

—I want much to get to the sea-shore, either Long Island or the Jersey coast, & shall make a start if I get strong enough—It is not so hot here to-day.

So long my darling boy. Walt.