I will write you just a line—it is still the same with me—the same strange alternations—not perhaps quite as well, of late, (the last ten or twelve days)—& yet I dontdon't abandon my anchorage of heart & hope—dontdon't feel to, which is a main thing with me—I have a good deal of pain, more or less steady, in my left side—in addition to the bad spells in the head—To-day has been pleasant, & I was out hobbling around from 10 to 12—probably overdid matters—as I came back sick & have been so since—(though not enough to prevent me from eating some nice stewed oysters in moderation for my dinner, a half hour since)—
So dontdon't be needlessly apprehensive, Nelly dear—for I shall get better, & we will meet yet—
When you write tell me about my dear Mr & Mrs. Ashton—I wrote them a line off-hand, which I suppose they rec'd . Tell me all the news—tell me about Charles Eldridge—& all my other friends.
With love— Walt