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Well how are you getting along there 10,000 miles f'm here—& "how's all"? (as the black people say down south)—Did you get the package of four big books I sent Dec. 27 last by express to you? & my two letters since—& the March Lippincott's magazine?—Am now sick here & have been several weeks, & nothing promising ahead—but sit up & read & write—have just had a little stew'd rice & mutton for my supper—am busy with 2d annex to L of G. & Nov: Boughs—have just finish'd & sent off the proofs of the poetic bits (16 or 17 pages altogether) & sent the printers part of the "copy" of the rest—it will all be very brief & scrappy—(you have seen a great part of it)—Did you get Ingersoll's address in little book form I sent? intend to post you future pieces yet—if you have a chance, look for an essay on Australia in the Century magazine Feb. '91—page 607 seems to have some meat in it—Thoughtful folks here are paying much attention to you south there & Canada north—I find the advice apparent drift is not to be in too g't a hurry to cut loose f'm G't Britain—but you both are the best judges & deciders of all that—I am still up & interesting myself but inertia & disablement hold me powerless four fifths of the time—Again best respects & love to you & again to Eve & Mr & Mrs Fryer & Fred Woods & Jim Hartigan & Ada & Ted & Louie & the baby & Tom Touchstone, & may be other friends not named—mates of mine unspecified there whom you are authorized to give them if any my good remembrance heart word—Without any special reason I yet have felt to write you all once more—but now I shall probably give you a rest awhile.

Walt Whitman