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A beautiful July day. Warm enough but not hot. All here peaceful and quiet. Am in my office, it is now noon. I have attended chapel, written a few letters (to Kennedy and others) & pause to think, to take stock of my surroundings and what is next to do. I had a long good letter from Horace two days ago. He is a good fellow—you have no better friend I like him well for your sake and for his own.

No word from Willy Gurd for about a week I expect him home almost daily—he has had some delay—some work he could not   get done as expected—guess he must be about over the hitch by this time.

I say, Walt, what became of that letter of Symonds' to you which you were going to send me some months ago? You were going to have it set up but I guess did not—Has Horace got it or where is it? I should like much to see it.

I had a card a few days ago from Mrs O'C. It seems to be hot down there in Washington—there is no place can beat right here in the summer—it is a lovely place and a most charming summer climate

Best love to you, dear Walt R M Bucke