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Thursday—we have just had dinner & I have come in the front room by the fire—A deep snow everywhere outside, but comfortable here—the little canary bird singing blythely & I feeling pretty well for me though indeed as the hymn says—"Old age is creeping on with its great load of sin."

I havn't heard from you or seen any of you in some weeks—hope everything goes on right—Hope you or George or both of you will come here soon & spend some hours & stay to dinner—Mrs. Davis spoke of it Thanksgiving Day—& we both would be glad to have you both come yet—Everything goes now with me about as usual—have not been as well as usual the last month—send one of Herbert's last letters enclosed—Dr. B[ucke] speaks of Harry in his last and wants to know if anything has been done—Love to you and George & Ed & all—

The roads and going are dreadful at present—

Walt Whitman