The book came two days ago, & I have been looking over all of it, & reading a great part minutely—Surely it has been done well, & is a beautiful & (in one sense) sufficient memorial of the noblest mother & woman. It appeals to my printer-sense too—is a handsome & generous piece of typography & mechanical book making, with its excellent paper & press work—Thank you indeed dear H. for sending me an early copy1—George and Susan Stafford2 are still at Glendale—Debby and Jo3 have gone to Kansas—I was there last Sunday afternoon—they are well as usual—Harry has had a surgical operation on his throat. He now comes up from Marlton, (or Glendale) every day, to have the doctor watch & dress it—is a little reduced in flesh & blood, but is getting along well—Ed and Van and George are well—Mont4 is married5—(I went down Sunday to G to take him Harry home, at his request)—I am still here in my shanty in Mickle street—probably let down a peg or two from when I saw you last, but not much different—mentally the same—physically a sad wreck—I am reciting my "Death of Abraham Lincoln" lecture6 when I get a call—(as this is the season)—go on to New York for that purpose April 14, if I can get there—had a good visit from Chas Rowley7 of Manchester yesterday—I am well as usual—Love to you—Spring is tardy here—My canary is singing blithely as I write—
Walt Whitman upa.00085.002_large.jpgCorrespondent:
Herbert Harlakenden Gilchrist
(1857–1914), son of Alexander and Anne Gilchrist, was an English painter
and editor of Anne Gilchrist: Her Life and Writings
(London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1887). For more information, see Marion Walker Alcaro,
"Gilchrist, Herbert Harlakenden (1857–1914)," Walt Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D.
Kummings (New York: Garland Publishing, 1998).