I see by your letter of the 4th that you are working as usual. I sometimes fancy I see you—and 14—and Mr. Shedd2—going up or down the Avenue—or at the end at Georgetown—or Navy Yard—the old familiar route & scenes—the Circle, the President's House—Willard's—7th street—Capitol Gate—the Hill—&c. &c. &c.
I keep pretty busy, writing, proof–reading, &c. I am at the printing office several hours every day—I feel in capital health & spirits—weigh several pounds heavier—but, as a small drawback, & something new for me, find myself needing glasses every time I read or write—this has grown upon me very rapidly since & during the hot weather, & especially since I left Washington—so I read & write as little as possible, beyond my printing matters, &c—as that occupies several hours, & tires my eyes sometimes.
We are having splendid fall weather, both days & nights. Last night I was out late—the scene on the river was heavenly—the sky clear, & the moon shining her brightest—I felt almost chilly at last with the cold—& so put for home. One of the prettiest sights now is to see the great German steamers, and other ships, as they lay tied up along shore, all covered with gay flags & streamers—"dress ship" as they call it—flaunting out in the breeze, under a brilliant sky & sun—all in honor, of course, of the victory of the German armies3—all the spars & rigging are hid with hundreds & hundreds of flags—a big red–white–& black flag capping all—
Of course you may know that the way the war4 turns out suits me to death—Louis Napoleon fully deserves his fate—I consider him by far the meanest scoundrel (with all his smartness) that ever sat on a throne. I make a distinction however—I admire & love the French, & France as a nation—of all foreign nations, she has my sympathy first of all.5
Pete, I was just reading over your last letter again. Dear son, you must try to keep up a good heart. You say you do—but I am afraid you are feeling, (or have felt,) somewhat unhappy. One soon falls into the habit of getting low spirited or deprest & moody—if a man allows himself, he will always find plenty to make him so—Every one [has] his troubles, disappointments, rebuffs, &c. especially every young & proud-spirited man who has to work for his living. But I want you to try & put a brave face against every thing that happens—for it is not so much the little misfortunes of life themselves, as the way we take them & brood over them, that causes the trouble.
About the "tiresome,"6 all I have to say is—to say nothing—only a good smacking kiss, & many of them—& taking in return many, many, many, from my dear son—good loving ones too—which will do more credit to his lips than growling & complaining at his father.
Walt