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Dear Friend You were so good as to call yourself so, in my book,—that I value more than you guess,—and

The dear little crocuses I picked from my own tiny spot of earth, and sent each one laden with loving

There seemed no prospect of my going. The way seemed hedged.

Am so filled with gratitude can scarce express my feelings.

Tis the first time I have had the pleasure of gazing up on the picture of my Great Great Uncle Elias

I have patiently submited to the will of God, it is through him I breathe, live, and have my being.

f'm my friend Mrs: Johnston | NY 305 17 th Street East Our dear Uncle Walt.

Nothing could surpass the filial love she has given me: the confidence in my judgment: the loving obedience

So all my time will be taken up with him.

I think the dinner my good friends gave me recently, at Morgan's Hall, gave me a new lease of life.

"At least here I am surrounded by my books, and the roses you see my friends send me daily.

Arnold, you are right welcome to my home."

My second wife, you know, was an American lady, and that gives me a claim on your people.

There was no ceremoniousness about my visit to the President, and as a journalist I liked my brief talk

"Then you are welcome to my home," Walt Whitman replied, giving him both his hands.

Chairman Grey delivered the address of welcome, to which the poet responded briefly as follows: "My friends

All I have felt the imperative conviction to say I have already printed in my books of poems or prose

Deeply acknowledging this deep compliment with my best respects and love to you personally—to Camden—to

Give more than my regards to Walt Whitman, who has won such a splendid victory over the granitic pudding-heads

People who know absolutely nothing of his writing, either prose or verse, who have not read even "O Captain

, My Captain," do not hesitate to assail him, to excoriate him, to blackguard him with a vehemence which

I will also want my utterances to be in spirit poems of the morning.

I have wished to put the complete union of the states in my songs without any preference or partiality

Then the simile of my friend, John Burroughs, is entirely true, 'his glove is a glove of silk, but the

I round and finish little, if anything; and could not consistently with my scheme.

"'Leaves of Grass' indeed (I cannot too often reiterate) has mainly been the outcropping of my own emotional

No one will get at my verses who insists upon viewing them as a literary performance, or as aiming mainly

But as I did not receive an answer from you, and thinking that my letter miscarried, I concluded to write

And in my own day and maturity, my eyes have seen and ears heard, Lincoln, Grant and Emerson, and my

I have put my name with pen and ink with my own hand in the present volume.

I felt it all as positively then in my young days as I do now in my old ones: to formulate a poem whose

, and has been the comfort of my life since it was originally commenced.

Then the simile of my friend, John Burroughs, is entirely true.

There is a certain idea in my works—to glorify industry, nature and pure intstict.

I always remember that my ancestors were Dutch .

In my books, in my prose as well as my poetry, are many knots to untie.

I don't know why some men compare my book with the Bible.

Mendelssohn is my favorite. I always like to hear him.

Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my

('Just now I am finishing a big volume of about 900 pages comprehending all my stuff, poems and prose

Now he writes, "Have not been out-doors for over six months—hardly out of my room, but get along better

Or in "A Carol closing Sixty-nine':— "Of me myself—the jocund heart yet beating in my breast, The body

old, poor, and paralysed—the strange inertia falling pall-like round me, The burning fires down in my

And in another passage (in the introductory essay) he says—'No one will get at my verses who insists

I have looked so long for that autograph copy of "My Captain," for "a place of honor," in my collection

Aldrich wanted an autograph copy of Whitman's poem "O Captain! My Captain!."

"O Captain! My Captain!"

For more information on the poem, see Gregory Eiselein, "'O Captain! My Captain!'

Whitman eventually did furnish Aldrich with a manuscript copy of "O Captain!

way: but as to writing about novelists, novels, English, American, any other—God help me: I can't see my

way to it . . . what he proposes is out of my line . . .

Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Friday, September 13, 1889 and Saturday, September 14, 1889: "My

important cases and good fees on prospect I was unable to realize the cash proceeds; so I applied and got my

—I hope to resume practice in this state, some time in the future, when I have paid my debts and saved

My mother is still living in Boston at the age of 75, well and hearty.

I hope you are fairly comfortable—God bless you my old and long tried friend— "With fond affection and

Bliss , rectory Episcopal church—he expressed great sympathy for me; in my straitend circumstances, and

placed a 5 dollar bill, in my hand, as he has done once before, this winter, which got me 1/2 ton of

I would much rather paint, could I sell my pictures.

require it—I never undressed coldest nights last winter—tired oft as an old vetrans , I dropped in my

narative. narrative Got a heater last winter, gave a picture for it—pipe passed into chimney through my

room mad made it comfortable— My sister on Staten Island has been dangerously ill for some weeks—now

several children and grand children—sincere— guiless— guileless beloved——I have not seen either of my

regard for you (to help us) but I did not write—one grows desperate under difficulties you know, and my

me apprehensive—a dollar occasionally would help—have put up 100 feet of new fence (parts) against my

even though only in thought and by letter, though ere long I hope to see you face to face, for He, my

To thee I offer my affection, for that is all I can, but may we meet ere long. So long.

This would be my notion of the volume, as a , if I knew nothing of its author—of its "only begetter."

For the regard, the affection, which convoyed your noble argosy to this my haven,—believe me, my dear

He reported you as saying that I wouldn't take off my hat to Apollo, if we sh d happen to meet.

Well: there is too much taking off of hats, but I certainly should doff my own to the Sun-God.

Pray give my kind regards to M. Traubel. Edmund Clarence Stedman to Walt Whitman, 27 March 1889

However, those few lines will at least serve as an unambiguous testimony of my deep and true devotion

Dear Walt— Just a line as you have been much in my thoughts lately.

Sharpe, my old harper friend that I told you of, died a few days ago—"very quiet & gentle" says his son

The Money Order is sent in my name. Edward Carpenter to Walt Whitman, 13 January [1889]

length (with many interpolations) in The Commonplace-Book: "A very bad (never so bad before) lapse of my

payment (to J M Shoemaker & Co. bankers) they spoke of the paid original draft, & I gave the Camden bank my

My dear Mr.

But I want also, at least in fancy, to reach my hand across the sea, & to take your hand, & to tell you

I think of seventy years as quite the vestibule of age, because my own father is rigorous, at least in

I had a very good time Christmas, went home & helped to eat the turkey, all my sisters & brothers were

So I made up my mind to leave in the fall & go at the Veterinary business which I consider was a wise

and his brother Harry were the sons of Henry Whireman Fritzinger (about 1828–1881), a former sea captain

Davis, Whitman's housekeeper, who had also taken care of the sea captain and who inherited part of his

Walt Whitman: My dear Sir, I take the liberty of sending you in the same mail with this, a little pamphlet

Should it prove so, my object will then be attained.

And, now, will you be kind enough to send me one more set, for a lady, to whom I have just shewn my set

I must have known you all my life you are wonderful, how did you learn the sacred truth of Leaves of

O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN! O Captain! my Captain!

O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain!

my Captain!

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse

But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, O how shall I warble myself for the dead one

My dear Poet, Walt Whitman.

Possibly my answer to Mr.

In case of the latter, I should have been glad had he thought my name worthy of mention as a friend.

Comes to my mind as I think of the hour When our poet and friends will be lovingly drinking The mystical

But, though absent in body, there's nothing can hinder My tasting the joys of that festive birthday;

the pressure is so great that I can't get the moment to sit down, for as yet I am the only nurse, & my

I try to keep my courage up, & not to look ahead more than I must.

Night before last I hardly slept any, & as a consequence am not able to use my eyes next day.

But in any case after you get this letter, my address will be care of my nephew in Boston which I will

I shall make a few short stops with nieces & others till I return home, & as my nephew is a fixture,

But I try to keep up a good heart, & not to worry my friends with my troubles.

I have one hope that I am clinging to, and that is that my sister Mrs. Channing may come on.

I send my address on the enclosed slip. With love always— Nelly O'Connor.

I am sorry to tell you that after all my careful economy & saving, the various things into which William

But I have been trying my best to put into order; but must soon drop all & go for a time, or I shall

If ever the people that owe money to William would pay me, I should not be so worried about my daily

It is like taking my life to have to give up a home with no prospect of ever having one again.

So I said, I will keep you informed of my whereabouts. & with love always— Nelly O'Connor. Ellen M.

I am indeed alone, both children, my father & mother, all four of my brothers are gone.

Traubel in my letter to him for the photograph of William, & also for the pictures of the "laughing Philosopher

Traubel got my letter. How goes it with you? Send a line. With love always— Nelly O'Connor.

Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Thursday, September 12, 1889 and Saturday, September 14, 1889: "My

My first visit to William's grave since last July when I went away.

if I had some one to give me a lift in my work, it would be a boon, but I guess my lesson in life is

I must now turn my face homeward.

"The sea-wind & the sea Made all my soul in me A song for ever!"

by the way, to say that a note has come to say a package (of portraits presumably) from you, awaits my

I shall be able now to get on with my article for the 'Scottish Art Review' as soon as I am back in town

Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my

Camden, 14 th Aug. '89 My dear Walt Whitman, Your welcome p'card of July 23 rd reminds me how the time

has slipped away since my last letter to you.

My dear Walt Whitman, I was very glad to have your postcard two or three days ago, & to find that you

My work—editing &c., made me come away at last sooner than I wished to.

through a quiet & picturesque cwm or valley,—so reaching this place, Carmarthen, where I stay with my

have been dipping more & more into old Welsh romance & poetry, of late; eking out with a dictionary my

He , I daresay, is not altogether wrong about my other self, who is possessed at times with the itch

I believe I last wrote to you from Carmarthen, where I stayed with my dear grand-parents, making excursions

thoughts, (as I dropped with ready strides down those Welsh mountains at nightfall, or arm-in-arm with my

Here my Uncle Percival, who is a Naturalist & Poultry-fancier, among other things, has a house almost

I believe I even blushed a little to find my lines so bravely in evidence.

For my own part, I feel now that concentration is the one thing that I lack.

Your card of the 24th came two days ago, not a little to my relief.

Whitman: "Because you have, as it were, given me a ground for the love of men I thank you continually in my

London To 2 d March '89 My dear Walt Whitman, During the past day or two I have been arranging your portraits

between the lines, feeling all the time as if I can still see you in your great arm-chair—as during my

It is this impression that I must try to convey as far as may be in my article in the S. A.

So my instinct for life & the open road grows stronger every day. "Right Jack Health!"

I believe I told you that my sister Edith was with me here.

—have been out in my wheel chair for a 40 minute open air jaunt (propell'd by WF. my sailor boy nurse

) —& now 4pm Nov. 14 '89 waiting for my supper to be bro't— Transcribed from digital images of the original