I still keep around & have been over to Philadelphia this afternoon for three hours, the day has been so fine & bright, (but I am weak & half-sick yet)—over in Phila: I ride in the new Market st. coaches, the Herdies (they start from the ferry door, & I buy 25 tickets for a dollar)—I was on Arch and Chestnut streets—such crowds—oceans of women, drest to kill—I like to walk along & look in the windows, every kind of loc_jc.00500_large.jpgarticle you can think of, & many you never thought of—always something new & interesting—then I have a friend cor: 7th & Chestnut, Col: Forney's office, a nice big old fashioned room—he keeps a great ratan easy chair for me, by a bay-window, & I always stop there to rest, & read the news—How are you all getting along?—We are at the beginning of another spring, & I want to come down soon—The chicken was first rate—it made me several good meals—(I expected to pay for it, & expect to yet)—the strawberries good—they tasted like Glendale—as I close it is 9 oclock & a lot of darkies are going along singing an old southern slave hymn
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