There is nothing very new & I suppose George has written to you, as he returned about 6 p m yesterday all right—but I thought I would drop a line1—
Of course the shooting of President Garfield2 is the general subject, & has depressed me much, but for the last twenty four hours, his case is so much more favorable—We had the most horrible celebration here I ever knew, commenced at dark Sunday night, continued all night & of course next day, ruffians yelling, crackers, and all the old guns & pistols of all Jersey, with all the bad elements of humanity completely let loose & making the most infernal din possible to conceive for over thirty hours without a moments intermission—Over in Philadelphia perfectly quiet, (all the bad stuff probably came over here)—very hot indeed here the last four days, & continues still—I am standing it well—I take my meals at Mrs Wroth's3 & find it a very good place—it was a good move, my going there—Mrs W is very kind—Tip has been all right & has had his meals regular—a little off his feed & off his bark this morning, I suppose from the great heat, & folks away—Arthur Stanley lives now over at the Chevaliers, with his new wife4—his little boy bro't me over a nice piece of wedding cake Sunday which I took down to Alice Wroth5—
The house is all right so far—I try to keep as cool as I can—what with bathing & ventilation, & of course you will find some litter when you come back—
I send some Ledgers—I am writing this in the dining room, by open window—George was writing early forenoon, but has gone out—Tip has commenced a good barking at last (11½ oclock) after being quiet all the forenoon—I was afraid something was the matter with him—
I am busy five or six hours yet every day with the copy of my book—hard work to get it in the shape I want it.
As I finish it is after noon & very hot & oppressive—Love to you & all—tell little Amy6 I have not forgotten her, & that I am going to give Tip a nice sweet coffee-cake for his dinner—George has just returned—
W.W.