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  My dear Walt,

What a long long time it seems since I wrote to you & what a long dreary time you have spent in bed! But, as you will doubtless know, we are & have been in constant communication with Horace & Warry—the faithful Horace & Warry!—& know all about you & your ups & downs.   Some of the letters have made my heart ache with sympathy & love for you, my dear good old Friend of friends & your illness has bound me all the closer to you

God bless you & give you peaceful days and restful nights at all times!

Warry told me about your dear little namesake, "Walt Whitman Fritzinger." & how you have held him in your arms. That I am sure would delight you. The other   evening I read the story of "The Carpenter" aloud to some friends who came in to see me & when I got to the part which told how the Carpenter sat crowded all over & around with children who "flocked around him like birds, bloomed around him like flowers, wreathed around him like vines, swarmed around him like bees, & close to his breast he held the little lame girl Lilian & read on, the mothers in the group gave way to tears.

This is a snowy day here & the snowflakes are still falling, falling, falling, slowly, slowly,   & transfiguring the black & grimy town into a city of beauty & radiance. Oh the blessed, the beauteous snow!

And now I wonder how you are faring over in that upper room in Camden. Better I trust today & freer from pain & distress

The friends here all send their warmest love & sympathy as does also

Yours most affectionately J Johnston

PS I had a brief note from your friend Symonds today