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  1874 or '5 Dear boy Pete,

Well Pete, dear son, I have just had my dinner (stewed chicken & onions—good,) & here I sit again in the same old chair, in the parlor, writing my weekly screed to you—Nothing to brag of, this week—have passed a disagreeable week—mainly, I suppose, from a bad, bad cold in the head—have suffered badly from it, every way—but keep up and around—& shall get through with it, when the time comes—

Have not written any for publication   the past fortnight—have not felt at all like writing—My Weekly Graphic pieces are about concluded—(the next week's, the 6th number, ends them—I am just reading the last proof to-day.)—I have a poem in the March Harper—as I believe I mentioned in my last. (I am told that I have colored it with thoughts of myself—very likely)

—Pete, I rec'd your letter last Monday—& Herald

—I have not sent you any papers or books lately—but will, again—As I sit here, concluding this, I am feeling quite comfortable. Take care of yourself my darling boy—

Your old Walt, as always.

Pete as I am a little in extra funds to-day, I enclose you $5—thinking (like Mrs. Toodles' coffin) it "might perhaps come in use, somehow"—