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  High St. Annan, Scotland. Mr W. Whitman, Dear Sir,

It is a long step in years, from the teens to the eighties, the flickering hopes of eighteen to the rock of faith of eighty, the toiling in work of the one, the reaping and rejoicing of the other.

"All seems beautiful to me, I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you, I will recruit for myself and you as I go," rejoicing with you in   your settled faith, to recruit for myself, recognising, failures and disappointments notwithstanding, a common bond; and know that success is possible, not in poesy, not in art, but a poem written in our lives, and in being that which is above all art—a true man.

Distance prevents me from putting my hand in yours in person.

Whitman, I know will receive with kindly heart my sincere greeting. With devoted respect,

I am, Dear Sir, Yours faithfully, James Watt.