Title: Herbert Gilchrist to Walt Whitman, 20 October 1882
Date: October 20, 1882
Source: Transcribed from digital images or a microfilm reproduction of the original item. For a description of the editorial rationale behind our treatment of the correspondence, see our statement of editorial policy.
Location: The Charles E. Feinberg Collection of the Papers of Walt Whitman, 1839–1919, Library of Congress, Washington, D.C.
Whitman Archive ID: loc.02191
Contributors to digital file: Alex Kinnaman and Nicole Gray
Oc 20th 1882
Your new book "Specimen days" came to hand this morning Mother is delighted with it and so am I. How prettily you have let the illustrations in, artistically done, and what a good thing it is to dispense with the photographic [change?]. The picture of your father is jolly: and of you holding the butterfly is original and nice. I like the title page, a return to your old style. What you say about Millet is very, particularly, interesting to me. I always wanted you to see Millets pictures only I had no idea it ever could be managed, he is an artist of the first water. But there are indications I think that you will have a Millet of your own in America. The bits about the Creek are just delightful to my mind: you have so impregnated your pages with the bumble-bee birds, clover & all those lovely things at the Creek: I haven't had time to read it all yet.
I suppose the wood at Glendale is developing a charm of its own, I liked it very much: although of course it is not so rich and varied as Kirkwood, the Creek certainly was unique, I have never seen anything like it.
Mother is busy over her life of Mary Lamb—nearly finished. She is well I am thankful to say and so is Gracie, at this moment she is singing, her voice has improved wonderfully.
I have just returned from Haslemere where I have been painting a portrait of an old fox-hunter, such a John Bull in his scarlet coat and blue velvet jockey cap, buckskin breeches etc: You would smile if saw it—because James Simmions's [has?] one of those characteristic faces, wh one at once recognizes as friends.
Give my love to them at Glendale.
Herbert H Gilchrist.