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  Dear Mr Whitman,

I [illegible] to address you thus informally because I love your work

I want to ask if you can help me to find four little lines of yours that I saw last summer—perhaps in one of the monthlies.

I have hunted diligently for them but met no success.—I think they were called   "Twilight": at all events they were of the Twilght, and several to trace a likeness between the fading day and your own declining years—They were very sweet, very tender, and the whole was a beautiful chord whose harmony still vibrates in me, but the notes of which I have lost.

If I am asking too much, then pay no attention to me, for you must have many calls and demands upon your time.

I am a young man—a Californian—my home being in Los Angeles—

and always your steadfast admirer Chas F. Sloane  

Is there any list of your books—all of them—their prices, and where they may be found. Do you have time yourself at all, as I have heard?

Chas F. Sloane