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  1873 Dear Pete, dear son,

I am sitting here in my room again writing to you—there is no particular change in the situation—we are having some pretty cold weather here—I go out a little every day, but my walking does not improve any—I had a partially bad spell yesterday afternoon, & did not go out, but it passed over, & to-day I feel as well as I usually have lately—I shall get out this afternoon, & over to the Reading room in Philadelphia—(Looking over the papers, I see occasionally very interesting news, about myself—a paper in Salt Lake, Utah, had me dead,—& the Philadelphia Item, about the same time, had me at a public dinner, in Phil.​ making a speech.) I rec'd your last. I suppose you got mine last Tuesday—

—I have just had my dinner, bean soup, boiled beef, & pumpkin-pie, all good—so you see I might be doing worse—it is now just after 2, & I am feeling quite comfortable—& hope this will find you all right, my loving boy—

Walt.