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[We struck a paragraph]

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We struck a paragraph, yesterday, about Walt Whitman, and thought to wrench a joke out of it, but were obliged to back out for want of nerve before getting half through the time which is as follows:

"Walt Whitman is living quietly in Camden, working steadily and unobtrusively, and occasionally appearing in public for some charitable object. He gave a reading the other evening for the benefit of the poor of the town. The Camden Press speaks of Whitman's old age as black and desolate, since the magazines refuse his contributions, and the English abuse of him is copied far and wide. The Press adds: "But the poet himself is more resolute and persevering than ever. Old, poor, and paralyzed, he has for a twelve month past been occupying himself by preparing, largely with his own handiwork here in Camden, a small edition of his complete works in two volumes, which he himself now sells, partly 'to keep the wolf from the door' in old age, and partly to give before he dies as absolute an expression, as may be, out of his ideas."

Walt Whitman may rest assured that his name will be sacredly cherished in this paper as long as the writer has charge of it.

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