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I must write you a few lines dear loving friend once more at any rate. Since I last wrote clouds have darkened over me, & still remain. On the night of 23d of January last I was paralyzed, left side, & have remained so since. February 19th I lost a dear sister, who died in St. Louis, leaving two young daughters. May 23d my inexpressibly beloved mother died in Camden. I was just able to get from Washington to her dying bed, & sit there. I thought I was bearing all stoutly but I find it affecting the progress of my recovery since, & now. The doctor says my disease is really cerebral anaemia, resulting in paralysis. I am still feeble, palsied, & have spells of great distress in the head—But there are favorable points—I am up & dressed every day, sleep & eat middling well, & do not change much yet in flesh & face, only look very old, (though that is nothing new.) Though I move slowly very short distances, I walk with difficulty, & have to remain in or near the house. I think the probabilities are quite strong yet that I shall get well, (though I may not.)

Many times during the past year, especially during the past   six months, have I thought of you & your children—Many times indeed have I been going to write, but did not. I have just been reading over again several of this & last year's letters from you, & looking at the pictures sent in the one of January 24, '72. The letters of Jan 24, June 3, & July 11, of '72, & of Jan 31 & May 20, this year—with certainly one other, & may-be two—all came safe. Do not think hard of me for not writing oftener, especially the last seven months—If you could look into my spirit & emotions you would be entirely satisfied & at peace.

I am at present temporarily here at Camden, on the Delaware river, immediately opposite Philadelphia, at the house of my brother. I am occupying the rooms where my mother died—every object of furniture &c. is familiar & has an emotional history. You must not be unhappy about me, for I am as comfortably situated as can be—And many things—indeed every thing,—in my case might be so much worse. Though my plans depend on yet uncertain results, my intention, as far as any thing, is, on getting stronger, & after the hot season passes, to get back to Washington for the fall & winter. My post office address continues there, (Solicitor's Office Treasury.) I send my love to Percy, & all your dear children. The enclosed ring I have just taken from my finger & send you with my love.

Walt Whitman