I have been quite unwell, a bad spell with my head, worse than usual, nine or ten days—I kept up, but had no comfort—the last two days it is easier, & it is passing over apparently, for the present1—
—Lou I think I would like to have you or George put up my letters (not the books or
papers) in a package, & send them to me here, 2316 Pine street,—if it dont make too big a package, send by mail, (postage will
be 6 cts an ounce by mail)—(or if George thinks best, send by
express—that is if the parcel is too big)—please do it soon as
convenient—there is mhs.00017.002_large.jpgbrown wrapping-paper & string in my room—I shall stay
here perhaps two weeks longer—It is very hot here for this season, indeed as
hot as we had it in July there in Camden—I go out most every day, Jeff has
taken me out riding very often, & I have been everywhere within several miles,
& in all the outer parts of the City which are the roomiest & the
pleasantest by far of any city I have ever seen—Jeff is very kind indeed,
& I am agreeably fixed here—& since I am here so far, & shall
probably never come again, I have concluded to stay awhile—The girls are well
& hearty & send their love—Hatty is down
mhs.00017.003_large.jpgstairs piano-practising as I
write—I have not written any thing for publication yet here, as I have not
felt well, but I want to, before I leave, as this trip is a great revelation,
especially the Colorado journey, & the mountains—
—Lou your letter was rec'd , & very glad to get it—Write again soon after receiving
this—I have written to Hannah2 and Mary3 from here—I have just written to the Camden post
office to send my letters on here for the present—Lou this is a wonderful,
wonderful country, & the richest city mhs.00017.004_large.jpgupon the whole (thousands and
thousands of fine comfortable 5 or $6000 well built brick or stone houses, with
gardens around them) & streets ahead of Chestnut st4
& more crowded, &c &c—but there are just two things here you &
I w'd never get used to, & would spoil all,—that is the air you breathe is
always tainted with coal smoke & pungent gas—& a perpetual dust &
smut & little black motes, that forever smut your clothes & hands &
face, all the time, night & day—So you see there are always some bad
points, even to the greatest & best—But the folks here don't seem to mind
it, or think it is any thing5—