Sunny, cold, dry, very seasonable day, I continue on much the same—get out a little in wheel chair (but doubtful to-day—pretty sharp cold)—have quite rousing oak fire, & great wolf skin fur on my big-limb'd ratan chair—Alys2 was here Sunday, & I rec'd yesterday a nice letter3 f'm Logan4—a day or two before the "Spectator" f'm thy father5—(so I am not neglected or forgotten)—Give my best thanks & love to all—am writing a little (enclosed I fancy will be in Feb: Century)6—three slips, one for thy father—one for Logan—
Probably every thing in our great United States (now 42 of them) goes on well all in a monotonous & matter of fact way—"blessed is that country that has no history"—we have an unprecedently humdrum President7 & big men, but down in the myriad inner popular currents the moral & literary & pecuniary & even political flow & good flow are grand—we can console our hearts with that—on a great democratic scale the present & here are probably ahead & better than all time past, or any other land—& thats what America is for—& that satisfies me—that general unmistakable certain trend does—I dont mind little bothers & exceptions & some hoggishness—
Love to you all— Walt WhitmanCorrespondent:
Mary Whitall Smith Costelloe
(1864–1945) was a political activist, art historian, and critic, whom
Whitman once called his "staunchest living woman friend." A scholar of Italian
Renaissance art and a daughter of Robert Pearsall Smith, she would in 1885 marry
B. F. C. "Frank" Costelloe. She had been in contact with many of Whitman's
English friends and would travel to Britain in 1885 to visit many of them,
including Anne Gilchrist shortly before her death. For more, see Christina
Davey, "Costelloe, Mary Whitall Smith (1864–1945)," Walt Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D.
Kummings (New York: Garland Publishing, 1998).