
Cloudy & wet yet—am feeling fairly—the rain has kept me in lately of course—last night fair sleep—for breakfast small mutton chop & br'd & coffee—am sitting now by the fire (you can both imagine it all)—the Blasius people sent over yesterday to ask whether we wanted to "count the tickets" in the boxes first, as they were going to clear out & destroy them—I sent word that as far as I was concern'd I sh'd not come for any such purpose, & they might clear out & destroy for all me—have had some visitors—(am the object of some cranks & lunatics among the rest)—grip on me palpably yet—the temperature getting colder here—I enclose the printed slip sent by Wallace, England—also the Hort: Hall note—Horace we all miss y'r evn'g calls here—So I suppose you have taken in Niagara—the Lakes and the St: Lawrence too are not to be despised—Best respects & remembrances to Dr Beemer & to Dick Flynn & to half a dozen more friends there—As I look out of the window the last of autumn appears plainer than ever.
—God bless you all Walt Whitman