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Cotrel, Nicholas Wyckoff, & Thomas Sullivan, for my poor men here in hospital.

My health, thank God, was never better—I feel strong & elastic—an obstinate cold & deafness some weeks

Richmond & Jeff Davis, by this short but tremendous little campaign, of 2d, 3d, 4th & 5th inst's, is in my

Love & thanks to you, dear friend, & to those who are aiding my boys.

I had certainly made up my mind that we should meet with partial success certainly, but it seems otherwise

Dear comrade, you must be assured that my heart is much with you in New York, & with my other dear friends

Dear comrade, I still live here as a hospital missionary after my own style, & on my own hook—I go every

I have cut my beard short, & hair ditto: (all my acquaintances are in anger & despair & go about wringing

My face is all tanned & red.

Then around my majestic brow, around my well-brimmed felt hat—a black & gold cord with acorns.

New York, I had to be in Washington: I was never in the one place but I was restless for the other: my

opinion that the 51st is still in Kentucky at or near where George last wrote, but of course that is only my

such a misfortune to have such sickness, & always do any thing for him that you can in reason—Mat, my

little room 394 L st., get my own breakfast there, had good tea this morning, & some nice biscuit, (

They are truly friends to me—I still get my dinner at a restaurant usually.

mind again before me— Mother, did you see my letter in the N Y Times of Sunday Oct 4?

Sq Hospital, Sunday evening Oct 4 Dear Madam, Your letter reached me this forenoon with the $30 for my

the midst of those it was sent to aid—& best by a sample of actual hospital life on the spot, & of my

in the way of thanks—is a country boy—always smiles & brightens much when I appear—looks straight in my

face & never at what I may have in my hand for him—I mention him for a specimen as he is within reach

of my hand & I can see that his eyes have been steadily fixed on me from his cot ever since I began

After Whitman gave this letter to Horace Traubel on July 27, 1888, he observed: "My main motive would

with surprises—with fancy turns of speech—with unusual, unaccustomed words—but to say them—to shoot my

stopping at one of the hospitals last night Miss Lowe just from Boston came to me & handed the letters—My

children in age yet—so good, so sweet, so brave, so decorous, I could not feel them nearer to me if my

soldier boys should ever call upon you, (as they are often anxious to have my address in Brooklyn,)

I was with him a good deal, & the old man & his wife have written me, & asked me my address in Brooklyn

They will make you cry—There is nothing new with my hospital doings—I was there yesterday afternoon &

, & the house smells clean, & the room too—my old room they just left every thing lay where it was, &

singers are so good—when I come home we'll all try to go — Mother, I am very well—have some cold in my

Curtis, and the other friends, I will briefly say, tells daily & nightly & shall tell to the best of my

power, upon my dear boys here, in hospital.

Good by, my friend. Walt Whitman to James Redpath, 12 October 1863

After this sentence Whitman deleted the following: "Do you want to print my new little volume of poetry

Since I last wrote you I have continued my hospital visitations daily or nightly without intermission

My dear friend, if you should be able to go, or if not able yourself give this to your sister or some

friend who will go—it may be that my dear boy & comrade is not so very bad, but I fear he is.

I send my thanks & love to yourself, your sister, husband, & the sisters Wigglesworth.

so much want to see you, even if only for a couple of weeks—for I feel I must return here & continue my

I wonder why he didn't send me the Union with my letter in. I am disappointed at not getting it.

I sent Han [a] N Y Times with my last letter, & one to George too.

I thought I was cooler & more used to it, but the sight of some of them brought tears into my eyes—Mother

out with a long rough journey, all dirty & torn, & many pale as ashes, & all bloody—I distributed all my

is what they have eaten with Mat and I"; and again on October 8, 1863: "There is no doubt, Walt, in my

I send George papers now & then—Mother, one of your letters contains part of my letter to the Union,

It seems to be mostly as I intended it, barring a few slight misprints—was my last name signed at the

or think too deeply—So I go giving you all good advice— O Mother, I must tell you how I get along in my

of you & Hat right away)—one thing is I am quite by myself, there is no passage up there except to my

room, & right off against my side of the house is a great old yard with grass & some trees back, & the

Sims, a captain in George Washington Whitman's Fifty-first New York Volunteer Regiment, had been the

letter to his mother on December 16, 1862: "I have come out safe and sound, although I had the side of my

jaw slightly scraped with a peice of shell which burst at my feet."

On September 22, 1863, George informed Jeff that Captain Sims was in Brooklyn to recruit for the regiment

Jeff explained the situation on October 22, 1863: "It is not like you think in regard to cutting down my

Mother, I am feeling very well these days—my head that was stopt up so & hard of hearing seems to be

hulls on—I go down to market sometimes of a morning & buy two or three quarts, for the folks I take my

little girl, (lost a fine boy about a year ago)—they have two rooms in the same house where I hire my

will have it so—that's the way it has gone on now over five months, & as I say they won't listen to my

insisted on going to market, (it is pleasant in the cool of the morning,) and getting the things, at my

Of the O'Connors, Jeff wrote on June 13, 1863: "I am real glad, my dear Walt, that you are among such

, to the Hospital, &c. but I could not bring myself to go again—when I meet black men or boys among my

wards of a hospital, & trying to give a word of cheer, if nothing else, to every one, then confining my

had it here, as I must have a trunk—but do not wish you to send it, until I send you word—I suppose my

Mother, I have nothing particular to write about—I see & hear nothing but new & old cases of my poor

would literally sink & give up, if I did not pass a portion of the time with them—I have quite made up my

the way I shall put it in operation—you know, mother, it is to raise funds to enable me to continue my

everywhere & receive no pay — Dear, dear mother, I want much to see you & dear Matty too, I send you both [my

I was glad you gave Emma Price my direction here, I should like to hear from Mrs Price & her girls first

got along better than I would have thought, but the last week I have felt it more, have felt it in my

head a little—I no more stir without my umbrella, in the day time, than I would without my boots.

I am afraid of the sun affecting my head, & move pretty cautious—Mother, I think every day, I wonder

I send you my love, dear mother, & to all, & wish Jeff & you to write as often as you can— Walt Whitman

some of those battles—I get thinking about it sometimes, & it works upon me so I have to stop & turn my

get them—I sent them & another paper to George—Mother, you none of you ever mention whether you get my

would take away your appetite I know—Mother, I have some idea Han is getting some better, it is only my

idea somehow—I hope it is so from the bottom of my heart—did you hear from Mary's Fanny since?

them, for grandmother will perhaps leave them to you in her will, if you behave like a lady—Matty, my

mother, how are you nowadays—I do hope you feel well & in good spirits—I think about you every day of my

see women in the hospitals, mothers come to see their sons, & occasionally one that makes me think of my

dear mother—one did very much, a lady about 60, from Pennsylvania, come to see her son, a Captain, very

as it was that time that my hand was cut in the artery, & I was liable to gangrene myself—but she and

breakfast in my room in the morning myself, & dinner at a restaurant about 3 o'clock—I get along very

On October 1, 1863, Babbitt was depressed—"dark clouds seem to be lying in my pathway and I can not remove

them nor hide them from my mind"—until he mentioned his beloved, Nellie F.

by the window in Major Hapgood's office—all the Potomac & Maryland & Virginia hills in sight—writing my

shall send him some papers to-day—I send papers quite often—(why hasn't Jeff sent me the Union with my

are well—I have rec'd another letter from Mrs Price, she has not good health, I am sorry for her from my

Mary's mother-in-law, wrote to Whitman from Farmingdale, Long Island, on September 25: "I have raiced my

tender heart, & your goodness to those wounded & dying young men—for they have grown to seem to me as my

$5 from Mr Lane had miscarried—this morning when I came down to Major Hapgood's office I found it on my

Mother, what to do about Andrew I hardly know—as it is I feel about as much pity for you as I do for my

cheerfully I would give them, whether they availed any thing for Andrew or not—yet I have long made up my

all do what we can for Andrew—Mother, I think I must try to come home for a month—I have not given up my

Well, dear mother, I must close—I am first rate in health, so much better than a month & two mo's ago—my

ought to be," but attributed the condition to his mother's frugality: "I have not the least doubt in my

Washington September 15 1863 Dear Mother Your letters were very acceptable—one came just as I was putting my

unionists I have met in the hospitals, wounded or sick—one young man I guess I have mentioned to you in my

must have been a giant in health, but now he is weaker, has a cough too)—Mother, can you wonder at my

mother, I have writ quite a letter—it is between 2 & 3 o'clock—I am in Major Hapgood's all alone—from my

at 4 o'clock at a Mr Boyle's —I am going—(hope we shall have something good)—dear Mother, I send you my

see if they would reach you—I was very much disappointed when I went to Armory that evening to find my

Thuey, did you take the envelope you had with my address?

you need not mind ceremony—there is no need of ceremony between dear friends for that I hope we are, my

together again—good by, dear boy, from your true friend— Thuey, I enclose an envelope but will write my

be afraid, my darling comrade—it is little, but it may be some use—Thuey, you write to me just as you

. & I am not with him any more—he has moved his office to his private room—I am writing this in my room

456 Sixth st—but my letters still come to Major's care, they are to be addrest same as ever, as I can

early, went down through the market, it is quite a curiosity—I bought some butter, tea, &c—I have had my

breakfast here in my room, good tea, bread & butter &c— Mother, I think about you all more than ever

George—I have no doubt the 51st is still at Crab Orchard — Mother, I hope you will try to write—I send you my

led the explosive Jeff to exclaim in a letter to Walt from December 15, 1863: "I love Mat as I love my

There would be but few tears shed on my part I can tell you. . . .

wrote Mother abt getting Jess in the Asylum—It does not seem to meet with her wishes—when I wrote you my

noise & laughing & drinking, of a dozen young men, & I among them, I would see your face before me in my

it would be if I could leave all the fun & noise & the crowd & be with you—I don't wish to disparage my

there is something that takes down all artificial accomplishments, & that is a manly & loving soul—My

Well, it is now past midnight, pretty well on to 1 o'clock, & my sheet is most written out—so, my dear

dear loving comrade, & the blessing of God on you by night & day, my darling boy.

I do not know that I told you that both of my parents were dead but it is true and now, Walt, you will

be a second Father to me won't you. for my love for you is hardly less than my love for my natural parent

say much more of what the world calls educated & polished, & brilliant in conversation, &c, than you, my

I always carry a stout double-pocket haversack, filled with things—also large pockets in my coat &c—I

have learnt what is appropriate—I generally carry a bottle of wine—I buy oranges by the box, & fill my

But, my dear comrades, I will now tell you something about my own folks—home here there is quite a lot

of us—my father is not living—my dear mother is very well indeed for her age, which is 67—she is cheerful

Often they hit each other, then there is a time— My loving comrades, I am scribbling all this in my room

in my mother's house.

, & I pray God to bless you, my darling boys, & I send you all my love, & I hope it will be so ordered

My relations with the boys there in Washington had fatherly, motherly, brotherly intimations—touched

I don't seem to be able to stand it in the present condition of my body'" (3:110–111).

afterwards that he (the sick man) had not eat so much at a meal, in three months—Mother, I shall have my

a week —so I thought I would write you a few lines now, to let you know— Mother, I suppose you got my

want to go down in camp once more very much—& I think I shall be back in a week—I shall spend most of my

you are well & in good spirits & Jeff & Mat & all, & dear little California & Hattie—I send them all my

for somehow I was thinking from your letters lately whether you was as well as usual or not—write how my

army this spring, to the utmost—they are sending down many to their reg'ts that are not fit to go, in my

Washington—We have had quite a snow storm, but is clear & sunny to-day here, but sloshy, I am wearing my

On March 6, George wrote to his mother: "I found my trunk up at Fort Schuyler all right the morning I

want more than two or three days)—I want to see George, (I have his photograph on the wall, right over my

probably George will come out & see her, & that if he does you will send her word beforehand— Jeff, my

best way to enjoy a visit home, after all—When I come home again, I shall not go off gallivanting with my

& more shaky—how they can make any headway against our new, large & fresh armies next season passes my

it was made to me only as there was no one else in hearing at the moment—(he is quite an admirer of my

always find they like to have me very much, it seems to do them good, no doubt they soon feel that my

away some gay tunes now, though it is quite late at night—Mother, I dont know whether I mentioned in my

region, makes a good officer—Mother, I could get no pen & ink tonight—Well, dear Mother, I send you my

army as a first lieutenant in the Eighty-fourth New York Infantry on May 23, 1861, and was appointed captain

feel in health these days, dear mother—I hope you are well & in good heart yet—I remain pretty well, my

saw him this morning—I am still around among wounded same, but will not make you feel blue by filling my

neglected again to send him word—I have not heard from home now in some days—I am going to put up a lot of my

those terrible long lists—Still there is a sufficient sprinkling of deeply distressing cases—I find my

I lost nearly half of my Co. but we won the fight . . .

like to hear about the poor young men, after I have once begun to mention them—Mother, I have changed my

house was sold & the old lady I hired the room from had to move out & give the owner possession—I like my

new quarters pretty well—I have a room to myself, 3d story hall bedroom, I have my meals in the house

all—I will surely have to come home as soon as this Richmond campaign is decided—then I want to print my

I said, What is it, my dear, do you want any thing?

Richmond— Walt— Jeff, of course you must take this up to mother soon as you go home—Jeff, I have changed my

51st—George's letter to me of 16th I sent to Han—should like to see Mr Worthen if he comes here—give my

remembrance to Mr Lane I have writ to George several times in hopes one at least may reach him—Matty, my

In addition, he altered phraseology: "What is it, my dear" became "What is it, my boy?"

Washington May 18 1864 Dearest Mother, I will only write you a hasty note this time, as I am pretty tired, & my

Did you send my last letter to Han?

by him soothing him, he was wandering all the time, his talk was so affecting it kept the tears in my

soldiers], down at the depot—[It w]as one of the same [old] sights, I could not keep the tears out of my

lately as though I must have some intermission, I feel well & hearty enough, & was never better, but my

—I] wish you would write very so[on again] too—I feel uneasy about [you]—I send my love to Jeff & Mat

somewhat impressed, but I could not see any thing in it worth calling supernatural—I wouldnt turn on my

could write— Wednesday forenoon—Mother, I didn't get the letter in the mail yesterday—I have just had my

breakfast, some good tea & good toast & butter—I write this in my room, 456 Sixth st.

Mother, every thing is the same with me, I am feeling very well indeed, the old trouble of my head stopt

& my ears affected, has not troubled me any since I came back here from Brooklyn—I am writing this in

Major Hapgood's old office, cor 15th & F st., where I have my old table & window—it is dusty & chilly

seen, the arrival of the wounded after a battle, & the scenes on the field too, & I can hardly believe my

not worry & feel unhappy about money matters—I know things are very high—Mother, I suppose you got my

believe I worry about worldly things less than ever, if that is possible)—Tell Jeff & Mat I send them my

Whitman is possibly referring to Captain John Mullan.

& surgery, instead of being racked through the long journey up here—still may come in here—Mother, my

Mother, of course you got my letter of Tuesday, 3d, with the letter from George dated Bristoe station—I

know one bit more on what they are writing about than Ed does— Mother, you say in your letter you got my

I hear from him, before sending them— I remain well as usual—the poor fellow I mentioned in one of my

I send my love to you & Jeff & all—we are having a very pleasant coolish day here—I am going down to

post office to leave this, & then up to my old friends O'Connors, to dinner, & then down to hospital—Well

by, dear Mother, for present— Walt Tuesday afternoon 3 o'clock—Mother, just as I was going to seal my

Mother, I have not felt well at all the last week—I had spells of deathly faintness, and bad trouble in my

—My head was the worst, though I don't know, the faint weak spells were not very pleasant—but I feel

(near 3d st)—it is not a very good place, I don't like it so well as I did cooking my own grub—& the

a bad place, armory building, where the worst wounds were, & have absorbed too much of the virus in my

ambulances—tell Jeff the $10 from Mr Lane for the soldiers came safe—I shall write to Jeff right away—I send my

his "head feels disagreeable"; In a letter dated May 30, 1864 also to Louisa Whitman, he wrote that "my

Baldwin entered the army at age twenty-nine, became a captain on October 1, 1862, was wounded at Laurel

there also, but I do not go myself at present—it is probable that the hospital poison has affected my

system, & I find it worse than I calculated—I have spells of faintness & very bad feeling in my head

, fullness & pain—& besides sore throat—my boarding place, 502 Pennsylvania av, is a miserable place,

written to George since—I shall write again to him in a day or two—if Mary comes home tell her I sent her my