Mrs. Clemens is coming up gradually & steadily, but I take her letter-writing off her shoulders all I can, as yet, because between physical feebleness & the wear & tear & sleeplessness of life in the presence of a new baby born of parents of anti-paregoric principles, her head is in a too confused & muddy condition for intelligible work with a pen. We were exceedingly sorry, & shocked, to hear that about Mr. Whitmore. We were of course thinking of him as out shooting or sailing or fishing, all this time, not cooped up in bed & wasting away with sickness. But we are glad to hear he is up again, & shall hope his health will soon be wholly restored. If I could help by coming to Indian Neck, & could be spared from my post, I would be glad to make the trial. However, I judge by your letter that both families will strike Hartford about the same date—then I can hurry up Whitmore’s health in the billiard room.

The baby——but this is a vast subject, & life is short. You shall see her for yourself.

Mrs. Clemens begs that you will pardon & excuse her employment of an amanuensis, in the circumstances. I came near writing to Mr. Whitmore & a number of other people about to announce the new baby; & I did write as many as two letters, but then I fell into the doctor’s hands & have done no work since till day before yesterday, when I added a chapter to my new book, in bed—where I am now—& shall add another to-day, from the same comfortable place. We join in kindest regards to you & Mr. Whitmore.