This is rather late I am afraid to wish you a Merry Christmas—or even a happy
New Year—but I had forgotten all about Christmas till it was on me. I have
come here to Switzerland to have a little winter, such as one gets in America, the
winter in England is a poor affair generally, but I see in the papers that it is
cold enough there now. My family live happily in London, though it is always fog
there when there is frost—I should think they would choke, but they seem to
like it. But I don't, so loc_jc.00160_large.jpg I packed up my books and came here. In summer Grindelwald is one
of the most crowded of the Swiss places but now, in the winter there are only a few
people, almost all English, who came here for the skating and coasting. We are in a
hole, surrounded
by tremendous mountains, and the sun has not yet got high enough to shine in yet.
The wind never blows, but we have day after day of clear cold weather, when one
feels so well and strung. We have a very jolly party—five or six people from
Oxford—a master from one of the great English schools with one of his boys, an
English member of Parliament or two, and several ladies.
The Costelloes1 have gone to Italy and Alys2 with them, and they write that they are having a most delightful time there among the churches and pictures. Alys is going to stay on a month & learn Italian & then in February she is going to Sicily with my mother.
The "Parnell Crisis"3 has been the one great topic of late. At first we feared that
Home Rule was dead,4 but now, since the election at Kilkenny, things are
looking loc_jc.00161_large.jpg better, and it
may not be so bad after all. But it has been most exciting—certainly the Irish
make politics dramatic. It always seems to be the unexpected that occurs. Mrs.
Costelloe does a great deal of speaking, and is
getting quite a name.
How did you like the American elections?5 I was delighted it seems to me that the time has come for the Republicans to go. All my American friends—young men who have gone in for politics—are working with the Democratic party.
Your books were so much appreciated in Oxford, and that great one you sent my father is certainly a royal book. Are you writing anything else?
I wish I had got this letter off in time to wish you a happy Christmas—but you must accept my somewhat tardy letter as if it had come earlier.
ever yours with love Logan Pearsall SmithCorrespondent:
Logan Pearsall Smith
(1865–1946) was an essayist and literary critic. He was the son of Robert
Pearsall Smith, a minister and writer who befriended Whitman, and he was the
brother of Mary Whitall Smith Costelloe, one of Whitman's most avid followers.
For more information on Logan, see Christina Davey, "Smith, Logan Pearsall (1865–1946)," Walt
Whitman: An Encyclopedia, ed. J.R. LeMaster and Donald D. Kummings (New
York: Garland Publishing, 1998).