
Wallace is in Brooklyn at Andrew Rome's—had a fine day down the Hudson from Albany, (wh' was of course a g't boon)—is going on to West Hills, & is due here middle or latter part of pending week,—all going well with him—all his jaunt, Canadian experience &c envelopt in continued fine weather (I guess such as he never saw in his life over there)—have myself just had a good bowel passage, the first of any acc't in a fortnight—pretty bad times with me—have neuralgia added—no sleep last night—the change of temperature sudden here, & chokes thea pores. (on keeping open I had depended so much)—I sit here much the same in big chair—Horace is faithful—Dr. L comes every three or four days—McK is off again drumming—I drink buttermilk—a letter from my Australian friend at Melbourne yesterday—lots of applications for autographs (& "sentiments")—never respond.—Mrs: D has just been in (she is better)—Here is an old letter of Dr. J I will enclose—(he has always mourned over not being able to go to y'r London)
Walt Whitman
