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  Dear Old Walt—

I was right glad to get your card and find you hadn't forgotten me; and that you still keep going along, fairly cheerful. You must feel rather lonely at times. I have been wondering all night whether there is any sense in the world at all—and I don't know what to make of it! I have had a baddish time the last few days and feel tired out & sick. A very dear friend of mine — we have been companions day & night for many months now — has taken to girl whom I can't say I much care for. She is right enough — & they both have behaved awfully well to me; but just now I feel as if I had lost him and am rather dumpy — tho'​ I don't know that it will be altogether bad in the end.

 

I am occupying a large attic here in a crowded & smoky part of Sheffield, & below am running a coffee tavern in conjunction with one or two Socialist friends. We (our Soct Society) have also a large room on the premises, and we have meetings pretty often, sociable evenings, lectures singing &c. My friend of whom I spoke is in the cutlery trade, a razor grinder—very warmhearted free & natural. Most of our fellows are very friendly & sociable in their ways, & we have good times. I still keep the place going at Millthorpe, & spend part of my time there—and it is good to get out into the country from here. The Fearnehoughs are still at Millthorpe, but Annie the girl has left and come into Sheffield to learn dress-making. Glad to hear from you any time, Walt. Write now & then if you can. I suppose you will see Herbert Gilchrist before long. With love to you as ever— & we do not forget you over here.

Edward C—