
Your letter to Wm. of July 24. he forwarded to me in a letter that I got last evening. How glad I was to get it, and to know that you are so much better. I hope you still continue to gain, I hope you are well, but I do not really expect you to be wholly well until the cool autumn days come, that I so dread, & shrink from.
I am very glad to get this letter, dear Walt, for I had really begun to wonder why you had so wholly forgotten me. Not one line to me have you written since leaving Washington, and now that I am away from there I have to wait for news of you in this long, roundabout way. After seeing you every day, & so much of you those last days when you were sick, it seems doubly strange not to have had a word from you. You will not think me foolish if I tell you that it hurt me a little, will you? You know what a foolish, absurd person I am, where I love anyone as I do you, and knowing this, and now I having confessed, you will pardon.
Did you like my picture? You told William you got my letter, so you must have got the picture enclosed. It was in my first letter—I have sent you three, this is my fourth to you, have you got them all? It was too bad that we could not have a good quiet chat on the boat, for I spent the long afternoon there, & it was a very good place for a nice talk.
I am so glad that there is some hope of your book coming out soon. I long to see it.
Just think, Walt, of my being a lion down here on your account, because it is known that I have the honor of your acquaintance. Such is the fact, & I was made to talk two entire evenings about you, —it is so funny, some time I will tell you all about it.
The bathing here is good, & the ocean—oh! so good. I board at a farm house, & keep as you do early hours,—up at 6 or earlier & to bed at 9. I have been here two weeks, & am so brown that I could easily pass for a good "contraband," I nearly live out doors. The rocks tempt me, & there I sit & see the waves & foam dash up over them, & it breaks into fine spray, & is so beautiful. I never loved the sea so much, & I though before I loved it more than any thing. How I wish you were here! It would cure you Walt, & how much I should like it. Little Jeannie enjoys it much, for she has hens, chickens, ducks & the horse to feed. She says tell Walt "I hope he has got all over the sickness, entirely." She sends love too.
So it seems that Burnside is Court-martialed—events seem to prove that Irvinton was right in what he said of Burnside. Charlie says that the Officers say any Commander but Burnside would have taken Petersburg at the last attack.
Mr. Howells tells me he has seen your mother, & he is enthusiastic about her. Thinks her such a grand old lady as one sees only once in a lifetime.
It is breakfast time, for you must know I have written this before breakfast,—so good morning, & good bye. How I wish you were here!
With love always— Nelly.Have you seen a pretty little poem by Juliette H. Beach called Claire— It was published in the Leader I judge, & I saw it copied;—from it, I infer that she has a new baby, a girl too. Good bye.
Nelly.