Search Results

the opposition & resentment at L of G. is probably as concentrated & vital & determined in New York (my

known— —I am sitting here all alone to-day—I do not eat dinner these short days—only breakfast & supper—my

appetite fair—had some buckwheat cakes & raw oysters for my breakfast.

Yesterday & to-day I am perceptibly better—Cooler & signs of September—Still adhere to my 2d story room

moment—I have somewhere a printed slip of "Old Age's Lambent Peaks" & will yet send it—but I cannot lay my

hand on it this moment—a cloudy rather pleasant day, almost cool—quiet—I reiterate the offer of my mare

All my Herald bits will be included in November Boughs & I will send an early proof of all to you—As

I write I am sitting here in my big chair by the window (I have open'd it a few moments—it is near sunset—air

am quite immobile & don't get out except by being toted —a bunch of white lilies is in the window & my

It is dry as a bone here, no rain for many weeks, my potato crop is cut short 50 per cent, & all my young

I try to keep absorbed in my farm operations.

My regards to Horace Traubel. Tell me something about him when you write again.

locomotion power & in more liability to head & stomach troubles & easiness of "catching cold" (from my

just past noon & I am told I am to have a good rice pudding made in a big earthenware baking dish for my

S. & Alice are going to London to live— a big bunch of white lilies scents the room & my little canary

you have a chance you may show this to Mary Costelloe & Wm William Rossetti —to both of whom I send my

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to

Whitman referred to Rossetti's edition as a "horrible dismemberment of my book" in his August 12, 1871

I am still imprison'd in my sick room, yet sitting up & reading & writing & (in limits) talking & being

worst no prospect of real improvement—I mean in any body or leg strength, wh' is very low indeed—but my

—and at same time a big Vol. (900 pages) comprehending all my stuff—verses & prose—bound in one—Shall

Sir Today I was coming to Camden full of hope that I might see you but I have not enough money to pay my

Yes—you are good—may I come to see you when my ship returns in about a month?

I hope— Will you accept my "Minutiæ." Will you— if you are able —write to me.

I had, in my years of loafing, forgotten how sweet toil was.

I had quite lost any interest in literature & was fast losing my interest in life itself, but these two

months of work have sharpened my appetite for all things.

I think I can make some money & may be renew my grip upon life. I was glad to see Kennedy.

Here I am sitting up in the big chair—I got up ab't noon, (& shall keep up an hour or two, & send you my

the last two days—but the indications are still favorable (good pulse the Dr says last two days) for my

getting sort abt as usual—Dr B went back to Canada last Tuesday night, R.R. train—I am half thro' on my

roseate toward me & I feel thankful & responsive—& all the confirmatory possible— I am still kept in my

the indication of it—& to-day Saturday a fearful hot & oppressive baker & prostrater , the worst to my

printing office is now all diverged on a Harrison and Morton book, hurry is up—will take them a week—my

Camden Saturday noon Sept. 22 '88 Still here in my big chair in the sick room yet—a coolish wave to-day

him as of old—he thinks himself it affects his literary power, (style, even matter)—Horace told him my

binder this evening—Shall not feel out of the woods & all safe, until I see the October Century , with my

roots" for the meter (slang from N Y vagabonds, for favorable prophecy)—It gets cooler & I have donn'd my

In his journal he wrote of their farewell: "He presses my hand long and tenderly; we kiss and part, probably

B. " and has considerable to say of my "fame"—(I am not sure but we are to put E C S on our list of real

I am sitting in my big chair by the oak wood fire as I write—it is a darkish, damp, heavy-air'd day &

I am not feeling my easiest—Mr Ingram has just been in & bo't a copy of Nov: B. for a Quakeress friend

, & got some loose reading matter for a prisoner in jail I send to sometimes —my head is weighty & sore

the net is slowly winding & tightening round me)—was out driving yesterday afternoon & to supper at my

—the oysters come—I had 3 or 4 for my breakfast—I take no other meal till ab't 5—Lady Mount Temple has

Walt Whitman I see I have taken a sheet of paper with a rambling first draught of one of my Herald yawps

since that ill spell—Nothing special or new with me—bitter cold just now here, but sun shining to day—My

visitors—Morse still away west—the Smiths going to London early in summer—Mrs D[avis] has just been in to see to my

coal & to say we are to have apple pudding for dinner—it is chilly here as I finish this—my little bird

April 19/88 Walt Whitman: Dear Sir: It is probable that my friend Kennedy has told you something of me

, saying that he finds a "solid line of enemies" (I think those were his words) This is not true of my

In my teaching and lecturing I find no difficulty in getting Converts to the new doctrine and find your

and lecturing to bring your work before the people and it would give me pleasure to know you consider my

allude to his visit to America, but there may be something in it — —I feel better—am working a little at my

booklet yesterday and to-day—my head feels easier, but the weakness especially in getting about & in

my knee power is fearful—Hope you & George and Ed & Deb & Jo & the young one are jolly & sitting up—

July 8th 1888 My dear Walt; I have followed your illness with breathless concern—that is, what I could

My sister has gone home. My brother is busy in the shop; & the children in school.

She dont exactly see why I can not do my work here.

I shall bring on my bust of her when I come.

My brother's wife died some years ago, leaving 3 children.

He says my copy is quite as good as the original. I dont think so myself, tho' it aproximates.

hottest day of the season—but I have got thro' fairly with it—& have just finish'd & quite enjoy'd my

Not yet left my room for down stairs— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Mary Whitall Smith Costelloe, 4 August

Wednesday Evn'g Oct: 3 '88 The doctor was here this afternoon & speaks encouragingly but I still keep in my

sick room—My books are thro' the electrotyper & printer & are now in the binder —Soon as ready I shall

Monday PM Aug: 6 '88 Hot & sweltering weather here now the sixth day—No good news to send you ab't my

—sitting up —but have not left my room— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to William D.

They have made my summer glorious. My love of that man is something strong as fate.

Indeed I believe the ties of blood draw me to him & Scotland—my "forbears" being Scotch-Irish (on one

surviving yet & in good spirits (sort) after the past nearly four months—Am still imprison'd here in my

sick room, unable to move around or get out at all—but have my brain power as before & right arm volition

several condensed in one —this is now going through the presses—your bust of me still holds out fully in my

Camden Monday noon Oct 15 '88 I sit here to-day ab't the same—close by fire in my stove, as it is pretty

cool, though pleasant and sunny—now here laid by in the fifth month—all my strength, all bodily-ab't-going-ability

—Some of those photo places off one side appear to make the best pictures in the world—My printing matters

continue to feel fairly & what may be call'd improving—bowel movement this forenoon—I read letter from my

practically with it—certainly so—& glad to get it all— As I write, the Post paper comes, with an item ab't my

a second time—I guess I am getting along pretty well, considering everything—to have the books off my

Dave, I send a couple copies of my pho's, one for the children each—(If I knew their first names I w'd

have written on) W W Have just had my breakfast—hot buckwheat cakes with syrup & a cup of tea— Merry

Camden Sunday 3 P M June 17 '88 Am sitting up at present—fearfully weak & little or no grip on my brain—but

the doctor gives favorable clues, says pulse is vigorable—my good nurse has given me a good bath—& I

I had been feeling depressed and sorrowful—perhaps my own bad state had something to do with it; but

anyhow, the brave hand-writing was like Chevy Chace to Sidney, "stirring my heart as with the sound of

He is certainly the winter of my discontent mentioned by Lord Bacon in his play of Richard III.

years Whitman increasingly considered him an antagonist; late in his life, Whitman commented: "Some of my

My opine is that our dear O'Connor is better—jaunting at present for the time an easier road on plateau

than the C itself) —Ed Stafford has just call'd with some apples & a chicken— Saturday Sunset Have had my

dinner, stew'd chicken & rice pudding—have not left my room yet, but shall get down a few minutes to-morrow

most satisfactory affair at the church—no doubt it will all have to grow & adjust & form itself—but my

D is well—is in the back room working—my canary is singing away as I write. three little boys have just

been in to see me —my respects & love to y'r mother & all—tell Henry I rec'd his card —no definite day

Camden Nov: 20 '88 Still ab't holding my own & comfortable—nothing very new or notable—The Transcript

I send with Hamlin Garland's notice of Nov: Boughs —Still keep my sick room—Clear sunny cool to-day.

I hope you will continue writing me such notes as these, "My food nourishes me better."

My love to W.W. J.B. John Burroughs to Walt Whitman, 16 October 1888

—Wishes me to invite you in his name & my own—You come here say ½ past 12 & we will drive down in my

(my book). Glad to hear of yr your new books. Am still reading proof.

WS Kennedy I don't see much prospect of my work on you seeing the light soon, But—.

remarkably fine sunny day, & I went & sat in the warm bright bask of it from 12 to 1—Not much different in my

I am still imprison'd in my sick room—Please send the "Open Court" (in the bundle) to Dr Bucke —Am comfortable

Camden NJ—US America Sept: 13 '88 Still kept in my sick room & the summer season is ab't over.

My little 140 page November Boughs & the big 900 page Vol. Complete are nearly done.

thanks—Tho' I don't get worse again I don't improve in strength, vim, &c at all & hardly anticipate—My

Nov: Boughs will be finished—& I shall have a big Vol. of all my stuff one Vol. — Walt Whitman Walt

favorable—I am sitting up an hour or so—Pretty critical a week or so ago—but Dr Bucke I consider saved my

life—I want to finish my little brochure "November Boughs" —it is ab't 1/3d done—Love to you, dear friend

lines of greeting in Munyon's Illustrated World, combining as they do the cradle and evening song of my

My brother writers have been very generous to me, and I heartily thank them for it.

or 15th) just rec'd—I am certainly no worse in re the late physical ailments—easier more likely —ate my

dinner with relish—(cold beef, potatoes & onions)—Eakins has been today painting my portrait—it is altogether

The practice I had in America, & the vocal exercises that I used to indulge in during my mountain rambles

working men,—chiefly socialists; so I gave them as good an account of Leaves of Grass in connection with my

To my great delight, there proved to be several men there who knew L. of G. & who were able to join with

opposite side of the river, & the sound of fire-bells & galloping horses in the distance, drew me out of my

My American trip seems to have given me a new energy of assimilation too.

ONTARIO London, Ont., 9 Oct 188 8 I have the "November Boughs" today with my name and yours on fly leaf

I lay this book by as one of my most precious possessions.

If this book does not go I shall think (as my father used to say) that "the devil is in it" for sure.

Camden Feb: 11 '88 My dear friends WSK & JB I send you Dr Bucke's letter from Florida just rec'd with

if slowly—this is the most nipping winter I have ever had—at present am sitting here by the fire in my

little front room—have had my late breakfast (I rise late these cold days) of chocolate & buckwheat

good last night—no doctor now three or four days—a note from Mrs: Fairchild Boston rec'g the big book—my

be printed Jan: 5—I will send you a copy at once—have been taking some ice cream & a cup of milk for my

Dear J—& thanks—I am better now & sit up most of the day—had some mutton-broth, toast & an oyster for my

breakfast—We are going to have fine weather for Christmas—I rec'd a letter from Miss Harbinson ack'g the book—My

Sept: 19 '88 "The same subject continued" was the heading of the old chapters' novelists, this is ab't my

I hope so—I hear from Dr B[ucke] —& friends here come in a good deal—meantime I am anchor'd here in my

That wonderful title page I look at & look at, & can't seem to get dovetailed into my mind.

My day had a sad ending.

Please give my very special congratulations to Traubel anent this big volume (for I suppose he helped

And give my regards to your Canadian nurse-friend.

Camden 10 A M Dec: 21 '88 Every thing continues not unfavorable at least—had a fair night & have eaten my

Saturday, P M—Bright and real cold here—as I sit, the great wolf skin is spread on the chair to protect my

My dear friend I cannot tell you what joy your message has given me, both as proof of your improvement

With what joyful smiling I thank God that you are better, as I wept from my heart, at hearing of your

ancestor of yours settled very early in Weymouth, this portion of which where I am now staying was my

June 18 188 8 My dear Mr.

Whitman:— I read with sorrow of your severe illness and beg to offer my sympathy.

Dec 23 d 1888 Dear Walt: I am sitting here in my bark-covered study this bright sharp day, writing you

I am feeling well, better than one year ago this time, my summers work I think has put something into

If I could only continue my farm work or else hibernate like a woodchuck I should be glad.