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Y'rs rec'd this morning—letter f'm Rhys also—Kennedy has sent me a letter he receives from F. W. Wilson, Glasgow, to hurry up the copy for the book "W W the Poet of Humanity"—as he, Wilson, is ready (& even in a hurry) to publish it—I have heard from Karl Knortz, N Y, that he sent word to a German scholar friend at Zurich, Switzerland, to look after the proofs of the translation book (printed there by J Schabelitz, pub'r)—I have not heard f'm Rolleston, since he sent me word that he had rec'd the first proofs from Zurich—have rec'd a Springfield Republican with a long criticism of "Whittier, Whitman & Emma Lazarus" evidently by Frank Sanborn—wh I will send you in a day or two—

I am fairly—sitting here alone, as usual—dark, rainy, glum to-day, not at all cold—it is near noon—Mrs. Davis has been in for five minutes—I hear Ed down stairs somewhere practising on his fiddle—no doctor now this week yet—Tom Harned and Horace here last evn'g—

P M—So the day whiles on—no visitors—pass the hours I know not how, yet evenly & sort o' comfortably. Have rec'd a notice in San Francisco Bulletin wh' I will forward you—Have you rec'd two German papers with something in?—Still cloudy, lowering, rainy—near sunset.

Walt Whitman