Our fine weather—upon the whole the finest December we ever had here—has changed, & to-day is dark & sulky & dripping—My fair feelings continue—the bowel action reasonable—&c. &c.—I enclose a sort of dedication for one of the Vol's. for you to keep for yourself—It ought to be inserted, cut & fitted properly by an expert—a book binder if you can have the deftness of such an one—When the books went I was unable to get up out of bed, & was in a horrible plight, with only the wish to get the Vols. sent to you while I c'd direct it—or I sh'd have written in then—I sent round to the printer's to get the corrections made—some more impressions struck off—but will do so if you have the least wish—I will soon send you a few copies as they are, with the accented e in Goethe scratch'd out, (wh' is very easily done.)1
Y'r two letters came this morning—I am sitting here in the big chair—have eaten some ice cream — drank a cup of milk for my 2 o'c luncheon— Ed Wilkins2 is snoozing on the couch near—& so to-morrow begins with 1889 with us all—3
Walt WhitmanCorrespondent:
Richard Maurice Bucke (1837–1902) was a
Canadian physician and psychiatrist who grew close to Whitman after reading Leaves of Grass in 1867 (and later memorizing it) and
meeting the poet in Camden a decade later. Even before meeting Whitman, Bucke
claimed in 1872 that a reading of Leaves of Grass led him
to experience "cosmic consciousness" and an overwhelming sense of epiphany.
Bucke became the poet's first biographer with Walt
Whitman (Philadelphia: David McKay, 1883), and he later served as one
of his medical advisors and literary executors. For more on the relationship of
Bucke and Whitman, see Howard Nelson, "Bucke, Richard Maurice," Walt Whitman: An
Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D. Kummings (New York:
Garland Publishing, 1998).