Yours of yesterday rec'd this afternoon, & glad to hear from you & the folks—I hear from you now & then by Hoag2 or Burr, who tell me they meet you up here frequently—(I wish you had said how Hieneken is getting along—is he getting better?)
Well, Hank, my Boston tramp, lecture, &c. turned out far ahead of what I had any idea of—it was not a very large room, but it was packed full (at $1 a head) & they say there never was a more high toned crowd collected in the town—full half were ladies, & I never saw finer ones—I had good quarters at the principal hotel, the Revere House, (dead-headed, the proprietor, Mr Ferrin invited me to stay as long as I liked)—& callers all the time—So, boy, you see how your uncle was set up—& yet I am going to speak to all my old friends just the same! !
Have had several little jobs writing lately—Phila: and N. Y. papers3—(will send you the Critic of the latter city next Monday or Tuesday with my piece in)—Havn't felt very well lately—a real bad spell last night & this forenoon—don't feel right living in the city any how, after the summer comes on—very possibly shall go off to Canada again, as Dr and Mrs B[ucke] wish me to, & write strongly—
I sent you a little book of poetry by a boy 13 years old, in Pennsylvania, he sent it to me with a nice letter4—Well, Hank, my sheet is short & most full, & I must come to a close—I gather by your letter that you are in good spirits—love to you & God bless you—I am sorry enough to hear your mother is unwell—Susan, my dear friend, I hope when this comes you will be all right—
Walt WhitmanI suppose your mother got a letter & some papers from Boston,5 as I sent them, & of course supposed you would all read them—my best love to your mother & father & I want you to let them read this—