I am still here & am well as usual—have just returned from some twelve days down in the Jersey woods1 where I like to go this time of year (I believe I have told you about it)—Plenty of woods here in Jersey & plenty of sea-shore—& I like them both—& get a good deal of comfort out of them both—Things are going on pretty much the same with me as when I last wrote—that was an awful affair on the river, & I tell you I looked over the lists of names the next two or three days with fear & trembling—I dont seem to remember Wm Hardy you mention—but I dare say I knew him among the men, poor fellow—
It is now late Sunday afternoon, been a very hot day here, & there is just now a lively little thunderstorm coming on, (& over almost as soon as on)—I must finish my letter quickly, for I must go the P.O. here as it shuts at 6 Sundays—Tommy, dear boy, this is only an apology for a letter but it will show that I bear you in mind & all the rest too—I shall be on there at the Asylum this summer—not perhaps for a long visit, but for two or three weeks2—I am having some work to do this summer at writing—I rec'd the paper—good luck to you if you run on the 28th—Tom, I must end—love to you & the same to all the boys—& girls too—
Walt Whitman