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  Dear Tom

I got home all safe—We stopped a day & a night at Niagara & had a first rate time—Started the next morning early in an easy comfortable palace car & went on like a streak through New York and Pennsylvania—got into Philadelphia after 11 at night—(we were an hour late,)—but the city looked bright & all alive, & I felt as fresh as a lark—

I am well, my summer in Canada has done me great good—it is not only the fine country & climate there, but I found such good friends, good quarters, good grub, & every thing that could make a man happy—

 

The last five days I have been down on a jaunt to the sea-shore—got back last night—It is a great change from the beautiful grass and spacious lawns there around the Asylum—for miles as far as the eye can reach nothing but flat gray sand & the sea rolling in—& then looking off at sea, always ships or steamers in sight out in the offing—I sat hours enjoying it, for it suits me—I was born & brought up near the Sea, & I could listen forever to the hoarse music of the surf—Tom I got your paper & handbill—good for you, boy—believe me I was pleased to know you won—best respects to Tom Bradley, Batters and Dick Flynn & O'Connor—show them this letter—also Canuth—write to me—I hope you practice & write as I told you

Walt Whitman