The longed-for paper has come to hand. O it _is_ a slow struggle back to health, my Darling! I believe in the main it is good news that is come--and there is the little stroke I wanted so on the address. But for all that, I feel troubled & conscious--for I believe you have been a great deal worse since you wrote--and that you have still such a steep, steep hill to climb.
Perhaps if my hand were in yours, dear Walt, you would get along faster. Dearer and sweeter that lot than even to have been your bride in the full flush & strength and glory of your youth. I turn my face to the westward sky before I lie down to sleep, deep & steadfast within me the silent aspiration that every year, every month & week, may help something to prepare and make fitter me and mine to be your comfort and joy. We are full of imperfections, short-comings but half developed, but half "possessing our own souls." But we grow, we learn, we strive--that is the best of us. I think in the sunshine of your presence we shall grow fast--I too, my years notwithstanding. May the New Year lead you out into the sunshine again--shed out of its days health & strength, so that you tread the earth in gladness again. This with love from us all. Good-bye, dearest Friend.
Herby was at a Conversation last night where were many distinguished men & beautiful women. Among the works of art displayed on the walls was a fine photograph of you.
And now a later post has brought me the other No. of the _Graphic_ with your own writing in it--so full of life and spirit, so fresh & cheerful & vivid, dear Friend, it seems to scatter all anxious sad thoughts to the winds. And are you then really back at Washington, I wonder, or have you only visited it in spirit, & written the recollection of former evenings?
I shall have none but cheerful thoughts now. I shall reread it carefully--read it to the young folk at tea to-night.
_50 Marquis Rd. Camden Sq. London 26 Feb., 1874._
Glad am I when the time comes round for writing to you again--though I can't please myself with my letters, poor little echoes that they are of the loving, hoping, far-journeying thoughts so busy within. It has been a happy time since I received the paper with the joyful news you were back at Washington, well on your way to recovery, able partially to resume work--scenting from afar the fresh breeze & sunshine of perfect health--by this time, not from afar, perhaps. The thought of that makes dull days bright & bright days glorious to me too. I note in the New York _Graphic_ that a new edition of "Leaves of Grass" was called for--sign truly that America is not so very slowly & now absorbing the precious food she needs above all else? Perhaps, dear Friend, even during your lifetime will begin to come the proof you will alone accept--that "your country absorbs you as affectionately as you have absorbed it." I have had two great pleasures since I last wrote you. One is that Herby has read with a large measure of responsive delight "Leaves of Grass" quite through, so that he now sees you with his own eyes & has in his heart the living, growing germs of a loving admiration that will grow with his growth & strengthen every fibre of good in him. Also he read & took much pride in my "letters," now shown him for the first time. Percy has had a fortnight's holiday with us, and looks better in health, though still not altogether as I could wish. He says he is getting such good experience he would not care just yet to change his post even for better pay. Music is his greatest pleasure--he seems to get more enjoyment out of that than out of literature, & is acquiring some practical skill.