This is Dowden's second letter:
I dropped in to see W. in the morning before going to Philadelphia. Asleep, looking better. I reached over his
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pillow and kissed him. [See
indexical note p304.1] Baker said W. persisted in his objections to attendance, though not disagreeably so, making it clear to B. that the objection had no reference to him in particular but was general. "He seemed to be very anxious to have me understand him on that point," said Baker. The powders had acted to some extent. He was relieved. Then I went over the river and at once to Ferguson's, where I talked with Myrick, head of the composing room. [See
indexical note p304.2] M. was willing to hold up things a bit until we had seen what W.'s next turn might be, whether for better or worse. Several newspaper men after me for facts. Saw Osler, who spoke of W.'s condition as "very serious but not necessarily fatal or even likely to be." Spent all the evening at 328. W. slept most of the time. Bucke there. Talked about the book. [See
indexical note p304.3] Bucke said: "Go on without the old man. What else can you do?" But I objected. Said I would not. W. had seemed better all day and generally lucid, though now and then going clean off again. I saw him just for a few minutes. I said: "Bucke thinks we should go on with the proofs in your place until you come around. The printers are waiting. But I object. Myrick says he can delay a day or two. I told Bucke you would object, too." [See
indexical note p304.4] "I do object, Horace. Let them wait. If this business passes off we can make up for lost time." I had no other talk with him. Even this was dragged out. Utterance rather full, choked. I went down stairs and told Bucke what W. had said. B. remarked: "He said the same thing to me today. If I was in your place I'd proceed without him. He may be a long time getting on his feet again." Ferguson has got all his spare long primer tied up in our job. Cannot wait many days. Still, I am going to chance some delay.
[See
indexical note p304.5] Few visitors today. Talcott Williams was over. Some reporters. Donaldson came to consult with Bucke about a nurse circular but missed Bucke. Harned of course around off and on. Bucke is to go home tomorrow evening. Ar-
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ranged to meet me at the Broad Street station at 6.30. Will not go if W. gets worse or will come back at once after going if events seem to warrant our call. [See
indexical note p305.1] Bucke said: "Osler thinks, as I think, that the old man is on tenter-hooks. A little something either way may kill or cure him." The three of us talked over the possibility of Walt's death. What should we do? We felt that no minister should officiate at his funeral. [See
indexical note p305.2] [See
indexical note p305.3] Bucke suggested that Ingersoll should be asked to say a few informal words. "Ingersoll in one of his affirmative moods," I suggested. Bucke replied: "That's just it. And no man but a man who was Walt's friend would have a right to be present and speak." [See
indexical note p305.4] W. had himself said to me: "Most formal funerals are insults: they belittle the dead. If anything should be honest a funeral should be honest." Harned added: "That's the only position possible for us to take. If we have Ingersoll—or whoever we have—to speak it will not be because of his views but because he was one of the old man's associates in life."
[See
indexical note p305.5] We went up stairs and Bucke made an effort to get W. to say something on the subject of a will. Baker was present. But little could be got from W. He did not seem mixed. He seemed to understand what was wanted—twice said "Yes, yes," to Bucke's sharp questions—but showed on the whole that he did not wish to be disturbed. Bucke laughed. [See
indexical note p305.6] "The old man is just as hard as ever to manage." I asked Baker how W. had spent his evening and how he promised to pass the night. "I think he is mending," said Baker: "he is less confused—he helps his nurse: he ought to show a decided improvement by morning." "How is he taking you by this time?" [See
indexical note p305.7] "He is getting reconciled to me but I can see that I am the hardest dose of all." W. only said one other thing to me: "Horace, boy, hold everything just where it is. I am commencing to feel my grip coming back." Looked ghastly blue and languid, the
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lustre all out of his eyes, his hands very cold. I do not feel so certain myself about the grip, though I am not ready to give up. The last three or four days have been the most desperately anxious days of my life.