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Dearest Mother,

I am sitting in my room waiting for the doctor—Mother, you are in my mind most of the time—I do hope as I write this you are feeling better—dear mother, do not get discouraged—there is so much in keeping good heart, (if one only can)—I think that is what has kept me up, & is bringing me through—I think I am still on the gain, though it is very slow—my breakfast is brought up yet, has been this morning—I don't go out till about noon—then I hitch over to the office, & stay there for a couple of hours—then I hitch out & get in the cars & take quite a long ride, (sometimes jolting pretty lively, as the track is bad—but I don't mind it much)—I don't eat any dinner, only a light lunch, as I find it is much better for me—I certainly don't get behindhand any, that's pretty clear, & I count on time bringing me all right—the only thing I think of now is you, dear mother, & about your getting well and strong as usual—

I got your letter yesterday (Thursday)—I suppose you got mine yesterday—I sent Hattie a late "Graphic," & one to Han also—(the same as the last one I sent to you)—

It is singular how much nervous disease there is—and many cases of paralysis & apoplexy—I think there is something in the air, for a year past, last summer, especially—Fortunately, it seems as if most people got over it—

Friday afternoon—1 oclock

I am over at the office—Have got a letter from Sister Lou written Thursday morning, which gives me great relief, as it says that Sunday was your worst day, & that you have got relief now—Dear, dear mother, I hope you are still getting better—you must try to feel good courage—I shall come on soon, probably about the 1st of June—

I have got a letter from John Burroughs this morning—he & wife are both a little homesick, for Washington—they had got a nice home here—but he is going to sell it—& settle up there—he does better there—but he was doing well enough here, & was very comfortable—My head troubles me to-day, but I am over here at my desk, at office—Mother, if convenient write me a line Sunday, so I will get it Monday—

Walt.

Lou writes a very good, feeling, letter, about you—was very unhappy Sunday—