
          New York seems to be dry of letters
even my brother has not written me
since I returned & I know not what
has become of him.

I have some hope of being at
N. Y. in the month of May but I
can not promise myself the pleasure
very certainly. I am a lone man &
know not wherre I shall stray to.
But I have cast in eye towards
your great city, hoping to see it.

My Geol. from the east side side of
Berkshire to the Hudson has
gone to Silliman, & is to come
out in the next No.  It has
cost me a deal of labour - poor as
it now is - you will laugh at one or two
suggestions in it - but be not too wise,
for they were made to provoke arguing,
on as good as the contrary so often [repeated?]
&, if I come your way I shall
be open to scorn a [?] of country more
than it has been. Shall I hear from my
plants unnamed?

As ever Your friend

C. Dewey

Dr. J. Torrey
        