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  Dear Hank

Yours of 20th rec'd this morning & is quite a surprise to me, & a little not understandable—But you will tell me plainer when you come up & see me Saturday—Don't do any thing too hastily, & from great excitement—I shall look for you Saturday—If any thing prevents your coming, write me & write fully.

I am much the same—rather easier if any thing the past two weeks—but the bad pall-weight & inertia, (like a sluggish, sleepy, tired, great weight, as of heavy irons on me, body & spirit) seem to be on me all the time—& appear destined for life. Still keep the sick chair & sick room—(now going into the sixth month)—The big book , (my whole works in one Vol.) will be bound now in a week or ten days—I suppose Eva bro't you the little Nov: Boughs—Things go on comfortably with me—Eat & sleep fairly—spirits good yet—Sunny cold weather here—Herbert comes quite often—Two visitors ladies strangers just here to see me—love to you, dear boy, & to Eva and Dora—

Walt Whitman