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Dearest mother,

I have received your letter of Saturday 25th this morning, & glad to hear from you indeed—I suppose by this time you have rec'd the letter I sent yesterday 27th—I sent you the Galaxy, but I see by your letter that George had already bought one. I have seen the piece in Thursday's Times—John Swinton sent me one—so you can enclose it to Jeff—I have just received a letter from England, enclosing other notices, &c.—Mr. Conway is very friendly—but my friend Col. Hinton, (in his letter some weeks ago in the Rochester Express,) has given him, Conway, some pretty sharp cuts about his ridiculous anecdotes of me & you too—Still Conway seems to mean all the good he can. But such descriptions of me as, "he was never known to smile or laugh," is altogether too jolly—dont you think so?

Well, mother, I will again write a few lines—I have been out most all the afternoon—went up first to the Impeachment trial, & heard Mr. Evarts speak a while, & then left, for it seemed too pleasant outdoors to stay in there—I took a long walk, & ride in the cars away out in the suburbs, & so back to dinner, & now this evening another walk—& have fetched in here at the office, to sit awhile, read the paper &c.—I received to-day another letter from old Mr. Alcott—I sent him the Galaxy with "Personalism"—& he compliments me highly, & speaks of Mr. Emerson too & his friendliness to me—We have had a warm but very pleasant day—I am feeling very well—I only hope, dear mother, you are feeling well & in good spirits.

Mother, your letter of Wednesday, 29th, came this forenoon—it was too bad you didn't get mine Tuesday, as I put it in the P. O. myself Monday—So you are not going to move at present—I too remain in the same place, but have been going to move all winter & the spring too—I have been in the office all day to-day—all the rest of the clerks wanted to go up to the Impeachment trial, but I didn't care to go.

I have received another paper from England to-day, with a tremendous big favorable notice of my book, between three & four columns, one of the friendliest notices yet written. The English publisher of my book, Mr Hotten, sends them to me—

Saturday, noon—I am going off for the afternoon—Mr. Stanbery is to speak on the trial, & I may go in & hear him a few minutes, but I guess I shall spend my half-holiday mostly in jaunting around in the open air. Every thing begins to look like summer here—the trees are all green—we are having it pretty warm to-day, but a little hazy—it is now 12 o'clock—the noon-bell has just rung, & I am off for the rest of the day—Take good care of yourself, dear mother—

Sunday afternoon—Mother, you see I am determined to make you out a letter—I have been sitting here in the office all alone, fixing up my new piece for the Galaxy—for I have still another piece, besides those that have already appeared—Two have appeared, & now this is the third one, addressed to the literary classes—I want the Galaxy folks to print it in the July number, but they havn't sent me word yet whether they will or no. It is a pleasant day—we have had quite a rain storm yesterday afternoon & last night—I am going out at 6 o'clock to O'Connors to tea—Mother, I hope you are having a pleasant Sunday.

Well, I had a quiet, agreeable sort of Sunday—wrote & read most of the forenoon, & rambled out in the afternoon—& went up to O'Connor's in the evening—he had two or three others there, visitors—O'Connors & Burroughs's are very hospitable to me, the same as they always have been—they are almost the only places I go—I send you a couple of papers same mail with this—I am going to send the MS of my piece to the Galaxy to-day, as I have just rec'd a note from them by mail this morning —I suppose George is well, & busy—I should like to see you all. Love to you, dearest mother—I will write again next Monday.

Walt.