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A bad spell again—Wednesday was the worst—the light indeed was faintly fluctuating several times—but here I am yet—poor enough now but less non-myself—Osler was here last evening—He does not apparently think any thing serious—at least nothing new—nothing but we knew before—The worst is this inveterate horrible costiveness—then the water works give me great annoyance & trouble—my strength, equilibrium, power to stand up of my own volition & mastery are quite gone—Ed is very good—I gave him your little message—he has just helped me to the closet, where I tried an injection of soaped warm water but no result at all—One thing is I have not eaten any thing for three days—to day three or four mouthfuls & a cup of coffee for breakfast—At present moment I am sitting in the big chair at the stove alone writing—weather cloudy half-&-half—not cold—

Your good letter came this morning—I am having some copies of the big book covered in paper & I will send you one, (perhaps two or three) at once—as there is some delay ab't the permanent binding—Yes I shall be hard to suit with the binding of the b[ig] b[ook]—As I finish the sun bursts out as if it meant to stay awhile strong & clear—I am going to stretch out on the bed (rest, tide over, lay fallow, & such—are probably my best remedies to meet these spells)—

Saturday, sunset. Dec 1—Last night bad & sleepless—up forty to fifty times—water-works irritation, scalding—I have been lying on the bed most of the time, but am now sitting here by the stove—declining light—rather pleasant weather—not cold—no word of O'C[onnor]—

Walt Whitman