
Y'r good long varied & loving letter came yesterday & has been welcome & nourishing to me—Sure I read ab't that Australian "interior" bit, and "shearing"—& ab't the experience & death of Gordon the poet—& the whole letter—with much I will not particularize—with deepest interest, & thank you for sending it to me & hope for more—& can almost see you all there, & w'd wish to specifically send remembrance & love to you, Fred Woods, Jim Hartigan, Ada, Eve, Mr: and Mrs: Fryer, Ted, Louie, "Tom Touchstone" (when there,) & any other friends not named—the 'cute & loving appreciation of my book & me by them there in Australia has gone right to my heart—is far more than literary or technical fame.
I have sent you a copy of Dr Bucke's book by mail—if I repeat parrot–like you must pardon—for one thing I forget & for another I am not certain former letters by P O get there, sent yesterday same address as this—(it will interest you all but it is over color'd flattered)—Dr B is well & is busy—is a leading personal friend & my chief literary advocate—full of work & responsibility in London, Ontario, Canada—has a large family of sons & daughters—I keep pretty well, eat & sleep middling well, (eat bread & honey, blackberries &c this summer weather—occasionally a mutton chop)—my worldly circumstances are good enough for me on a very low plane of course—I have a good strong tight cane chair & get out in it almost every day—propell'd by my stout young man nurse—an hour last evn'g at sunset down by riverside (the Delaware)—keep in fair spirits & in good flesh but no more bodily volition or locomotive power than a log—can't get across the room—I am still sitting here at this moment in a big cane chair—pleasant weather, open window (have had it very hot here)—Farewell for the present
God bless you & all—it is so welcome to me to be loved by you all but I know I am overestimated Walt Whitman

