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  My dear friend,

My book has been delayed among the printers,—but I shall stay till it is all printed—it is a little over half done, & they promise that it shall be done, or mainly so, this week. If convenient, send me a draft for the $100. If practicable send a draft payable to me, at Atlantic National   Bank, of Brooklyn, New York. Write me a note separate, also. Direct to me at 279 East 55th street, New York City.

The book is going to suit me pretty well—it will make a volume of 500 pages, size & style & type, &c fully equal to Drum Taps.—I shall feel glad enough when it is completed—I have a constant struggle with the printers—They are good fellows & willing enough—but it seems impossible to prevent them   making lots of ridiculous errors—it is my constant dread that the book will be disfigured in that way—though we have got along pretty well thus far—I rec'd a letter from William O'Connor, & wrote him in return.—I shan't be back for nine or ten days.

Remember 279 East 55th street, New York City.

I have been well & hearty. My mother is pretty well for an old woman of 72—John, I hope this will find you, & the wife too   in good health. I send you both my love.—The weather is perfect here, & if it wasn't for the worriment of the book, I should be as happy as a clam at high water, as they say down on old Long Island.

Walt.