Well, I have been out to John Burroughs's again to breakfast this morning—we have a nice hot breakfast, buckwheat cakes, &c.—It seems to be regular thing, almost every Sunday morning—then we sit & talk, & I read the Sunday morning papers till about ½ past 10 o'clock—& then I walk down here to the office, about a mile & a half—Mother, I have not much to write about, only the same old story—
I believe I told you some time ago, I had been applied to by an English magazine "The Broadway," to write something for them—well, I have lately sent them a piece of poetry—if they accept it, I shall get pay for it—The magazine is printed in London, but sold in New York also.1
I wrote to Han last Thursday—I suppose you got your letter last Friday2—I have not had any word from Jeff yet3—
We are having some great speeches made in Congress—This last week, there have been debates in the Senate, & the Republicans seem thoroughly waked up & full of fight4—they have had the best of it, so far, in the speeches—some of them were first rate—I am going up to Congress, next week—havn't been yet, this session—I went to Prof. Agassiz' lecture last Friday night5—I was very much pleased—
I pass the time very quietly—some evenings I spend in my attic—I have laid in wood, & can have a fire when I want it—I wish you was here—I am already making reckoning of coming home on the next visit—but when it will be, I can't tell—Mother, I would take a morning paper, the Times or something—it would help pass away the time—the debates in Congress are quite interesting now—Well, dear mother, I believe that is all this time.
Walt.