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  Dear Pete, Dear, dear boy,

Still here, pulling through the summer (I think the winter is better for me)—the hot sunny days are worst for me, an extra bad strange feeling every day in the head, (the doctor thinks probably the result of an old sunstroke 20 years ago—now the brain liable to it again, in its sensitive condition)—otherwise not much different—bad enough though. I still go out a little—(most always feel at the best, for me, evenings, from sundown to 10.)

 

I still keep a little at work—there is a printing office here, where I am doing my work—they are young men of the right stripe, & very kind & considerate & respectful to me—fix every thing in type, proof, &c. just to suit me—I am leisurely preparing my new Volume,—Mr. Marvin, an Internal Revenue Clerk, a friend of mine, has stopt & paid me a visit on his return to Wash​ . Plenty of rain here—hot but pleasant to-day—What has become of Tasistro? Pete you havn't made that call on Mrs. O'C. yet. Come when you can, my darling boy.

Your loving old comrade & father Walt W

papers &c came