
I will write you just a line, to show you I am here away north, & alive & kicking.
I delivered my poem here before the College yesterday. All went off very well.—(It is rather provoking—after feeling unusually well this whole summer,—since
Sunday last I have been about half sick & am so yet, by spells.) I am to go
to Vermont, for a couple of days, & then back to Brooklyn—Pete I received your letter, that you had been taken off—write to me Saturday 30th or Sunday—direct to usual address 107 Portland av. Brooklyn. I will send you the little book with my poem,
(& others) when I get back to Brooklyn. Pete did my poem appear in the Washington papers—I suppose Thurs-day or Friday—Chronicle or Patriot?—If so, send me one—(or one of each)
—It is a curious scene here, as I write, a beautiful old New England village, 150 years old, large houses & gardens, great elms, plenty of hills—every thing comfortable, but very Yankee—not an African to be seen all day—not a grain of dust—not a car to be seen or heard—green grass every where—no smell of coal tar—As I write a party are playing base ball on a large green in front of the house—the weather suits me first rate—cloudy but no rain.
Your loving Walt