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431 Stevens st.
cor West.
Camden,
N. Jersey,
Dec. 3—noon¹

Dear Pete, Dear son,

I am getting over my late bad spell—I have been very sick indeed, the feeling of death & dizziness, my head swimming a great deal of the time—turning like a wheel—with much distress in left side, keeps me awake some nights all night—the doctor says, however, these troubles, in his opinion, are from a very serious & obstinate liver affection—not from head, lungs, heart,—he still thinks there is nothing but what I will get the better of—(& we will trust he is a true prophet)—

I wrote about like the foregoing to Mrs. O'Connor,² but was too sick to repeat it to you—& that was one reason I asked you to go up there,—I havn't been out for three weeks, but ventured out yesterday for an hour, & got along better than I expected—& shall go out, or try to, to-day, as it is very pleasant—You must not be needlessly alarmed, my darling boy, for I still think I shall get, at any rate partially well & strong enough—The doctor is quite encouraging—comes every day—& I feel a good heart yet—My young fireman friend Alcott³ (I think I mentioned his sickness,) is dead & buried, poor fellow—I send you a bit of piece of mine about him from the paper—I have some spurts of visits, & company—but very little that goes to the right spot, with me—my brother George has got a horse & light wagon, & takes me out now & then—I enjoy it much—but I have been too feeble lately—altogether pretty lonesome here, but might be much worse—Love to Mrs. & Mr. Nash, & to all inquiring friends

Your old
Walt