Final talk with Bucke this morning till about ten-thirty, when we went into London together, the brother along. B. sent down by me, for W. to autograph, Whitman books as follows: "L. of G." editions '84, '71-2, Century, '67, '56, '82, '71, '60-61, '55, "Specimen Days," "Two Rivulets." We met the Asylum mail wagon on the road. B. stopped it and opened the bag—finding therein a postal from W., written to us in common, and a copy of the American. I kept postal. All the signs of love and integrity everywhere with these people. Mrs. B. followed us to the porch—was long and affectionate in her leave-taking—sending finest tokens to W. Perhaps she would be in N.Y. in the winter. If so she would be with us, too, etc. Clare goes to N.Y. to take course in art. We were driven in town. Further talk at station. Bucke passed my baggage (including books) through customs without investigation. Then away. I did some writing on the trip down but neither the environment nor my mood encouraged me much. Travelled all day, reaching the Falls about four—changing cars there—from that point to Buffalo, by train to Philadelphia by the Lehigh Valley.