I got Jeff's letter sending the money toward the soldiers' dinner—it was more than I asked for, & was very good of them all1—I have not had any trouble myself, worth mentioning—the dinner has been got up at my instigation—I have contributed handsomely—but they, (the Hospital steward, &c.) have done the work.
Mother, I sent Han a handsome little volume of "Florence Percy's Poems,"2 & $5 for a Christmas present. Sent it to-day. Poor Han—I suppose every such thing does her so much good—
Don't you believe that fool Heyde lately wrote a long letter to Mr. Raymond,3 editor of the N. Y. Times—in it he said "Walt was a good fellow enough—but"—& then he went on to run down Leaves of Grass, like the rest of 'em—
The way I know is, Wm. O'Connor was invited by Raymond to come & see him—& he told O'Connor he had received a number of letters about that piece in the Times of Dec. 2, which I sent you. He said they all praised the piece, & thanked him (Raymond) for printing it, except one he got from a fellow in Vermont who called himself Walt Whitman's relation—a brother in law, he believed—quite a good deal of stuff. Raymond seemed to think the man was either crazy or a fool, & he treated the letter with contempt.
I dont want you to write any thing about it, to Han, of course—only if she was here, we would tell her. The puppy thought I suppose that he could get his letter printed, & injure me & my book.
We are likely to have a pleasant day for Christmas—when I next write I will tell you about the dinner—I must inform you that I have had a present of a beautiful knife, a real Rogers' steel, to-day from the Attorney General—Mother, $2 is for Nance4—you can give it to her in money, or any way you like—
Well, dear mother, this is Christmas eve, & I am writing it in the office by gas light, so as it will be ready to go to-morrow—I have not heard since from Mrs. Grayson. Good night, mother dear.
Walt.