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had sleep of a couple of hours—A suspicion of better, very faint but palpable, this forenoon—ate all my

of past month—head ache all the forenoon—rather pleasant day, sun out most of the time—anxious abt my

Burroughs and Stedman (at Horace's request) also to Edw'd Bertz Potsdam & R P Smith London— 5 p m—have had my

any doctor in yet & probably will not—what I have is mainly an expansion & perhaps concentration of my

far I like them & the work—had a bowel motion this morning (took a calomel powder last night)—I eat my

I had two moderate roast apples for my supper Mrs.

to night—If I can get over the great debility & the bad feeling (jellity & soreness & half pain) in my

chair —was out yesterday—feeling dull & leaden four or five days—nothing very new—some oysters for my

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

easy night—Superb weather sunny & warm—Am going out presently in wheel chair —ate four raw oysters for my

breakfast—Expect to give the Lincoln Death piece to-morrow evn'g Phila: (Shall probably skip my daily

Continued heavy headache—ate my breakfast—am sitting up most of the time—rest very poorly—still calculate

on this grip trouble passing over, but not in time for my 15th lecture in Phila: —I have now sent you

grandfather Geo:)—Susan, thank you for the nice chicken—I enjoy'd the eating of it well—I am sitting here in my

den alone as usual—the sun is shining finely & I shall probably get out in my wheel chair for an hour

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

'89 Dec. 25 6 p m —have been out to-day in the wheel chair —& down to the kitchen at the table for my

supper—now sitting as usual up in my den—J A Symonds from Switzerland has sent the warmest & (I think

you after a little while— Yesterday went out (two hours drive) to the Harleigh Cemetery & selected my

to-day, & got the money —am feeling fairly (inclined to heavy) to-day—plain indications of rheumatism in my

right arm—both my parents had r but not yet in me—Shall have a currying & then get out in the wheel

indeed "passionate": "I cannot even attempt to tell yourself (upon this page of paper with this pen in my

cannot find words better fitted to express the penetrative fate with which you have entered into me, my

reliance on you, & my hope that you will not disapprove of my conduct in the last resort."

in the wheel chair, the sun half-out in starts & rather cool—Supper of rice & mutton stew—I continue my

non-mid-day meal or dinner—appetite fair—as I sit here my nurse Warren is down stairs practising on

by the momentum of things I suppose— stupidity may be a strong word but it suggests if not describes my

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

Sunday Evn'g Dec: 29 '89 Much the same things &c: continued—feeling dull & stupid—dark bad weather—my

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

spell—Ab't as usual with me—No sight of Rhys yet—the artist Eakin of Phila: comes off & on painting my

Camden Nov. 19 '87 Thank you & double-thank you, my dear young man, for your affectionate letter & money

My little canary is singing blithely.

I enclose you my last pieces—Yes, indeed we shall be glad to see you—Mrs D will & I will—Meanwhile love

Eakins is here painting my portrait—it seems strong (I don't know but powerful) & realistic—very different

& comfortable enough, but horribly crippled & banged up—Spirit moved me to write you a line & send my

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

beautiful & interesting Bugle Echoes which has just reached me—Please send this to F F Browne with my

Mountain Side," "Ethiopia Saluting the Colors," "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd," and "O Captain

My Captain!"

Whitman is thinking here of the hymn sometimes called "Calvary," beginning "Come, O my heart," with the

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

Christmas has come & nearly gone—I hope you & all have enjoyed it—Superb weather here now two days—My

fair feelings continue, & I have had quite a generous slice of turkey with some cranberries for my dinner

here—some visitors, a young Englishman, Rathbone, son of the man of the address on the "nude" I use in my

it to me—8½ Horace pays his welcome evening visit— Wednesday 26th—10¾ A M I continue fairly—have had my

minor affairs—sent off Mrs: O'C[onnor]'s letter to me describing the situation wh' you must have rec'd—My

poor dear friend Wm O'C —my brother in affliction—I have been out & had a thorough bath in the tub,

) & complete clothe change, specially under— Saturday 22d—9 a m— Feeling pretty well—& shall tackle my

—yours of 20th rec'd this morning— Noon —cold & bright—bowel movement, decided—(first in four days)—my

brother George comes every day—bro't from Lou a good quilted lap robe to go over my knees & feet as

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

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

sense & mellowed & ripened by five years your 1883 book (biographical & critical) about me & L of G—& my

—the text, O'C[onnor]'s letters, the appendix—every page of the 236 left as now—This is my spinal and

business in another sphere & land—Your letters come & are always welcome—As I close I am sitting in my

big chair in my room 1½ p m quiet & measurably comfortable— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Richard Maurice

Bucke replied on September 28, 1888: "I note all you say about my 'W. W.'

collected Vol —Was wondering whether that w'd be detected—did not say anything ab't it, but it has been in my

accept the matter below it, & shall practically put it in action—as I finish I am sitting alone by my

date & name of magazine & if so I will tell you—Your letter came last evn'g—Have had beef & onions for my

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

Camden Tuesday Evn'g Nov: 6 '88 Seems curiously quiet for election day, & has been all the time here—At my

November 8, Whitman commented to Traubel: "I am coming to see that he is just the man I needed: he is my

advice to those who watch the great games) with whoever the people put in — Nothing new or special in my

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

ab't our dear O'C—eagerly look for word —Matters so so with me—good bowel clearance to-day—word from my

friend Linton from Eng[land] to-day—he is well—Shall have some oysters for my dinner ab't 4—made my

On October 9, 1888, O'Connor wrote: "My eye is now under battery treatment (assault-and-battery treatment

but laggard & a dull headache most of the time—partial bowel action this forenoon—I don't get out of my

the sash a little open'd—very moderate— Sunday noon Nov: 4 —Bright, sunny, quiet day—am feeling ab't my

for a better season, or put it aside altogether—I suppose Edward Wilkins will be here to-morrow—Mr M, my

Camden Oct:31 '89 "The same subject continued"—good bowel passage last evn'g— my sailor boy nurse (Warren

bed) had a letter from Ed this morning—so he got there all right any how—buckwheat cakes & honey for my

pummeling, &c. bath also & have had a visit f'm some of the Unitarian conference—y'rs of 29th rec'd —my

to-day to Doylestown, Penn: (20 miles f'm here) to visit & comfort a very old couple—returns to-night—my

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

weather—upon the whole the finest December we ever had here—has changed, & to-day is dark & sulky & dripping—My

this morning—I am sitting here in the big chair—have eaten some ice cream — drank a cup of milk for my

along—quite decided bowel action in the forenoon, & a good thorough hot-water bath (tub) in the afternoon—my

you have before)— To-day opens dark & wet & lowering enough—no severe cold yet—I still have signs of my

afternoon & all last night—dont seem any improvement in strength or vim —dont yet get out at all of my

literary matters by a sort of trustee-board, yourself, Harned & Horace Traubel —& assigned all [of] my

worldly possessions to Ed, & to my sisters —the "Nov.

sufficient frequent bowel movements—had a very slim day all yesterday —a little easier to-day—but slow, slow—my

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

has sent me his books with friendly inscription— Friday noon —A fine day—Rose pretty late & have had my

Commonplace Book added a few details: "He will sell me the plates of Spec: Days for $150—he gives consent to my

Days for my complete works edition—500 or 600 copies." (Whitman's Commonplace Book; Charles E.

—bowel movements fair—no hitch in the progress of the big book, but slow—my dull indomitable inertia

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

To-day I am feeling pretty fairly—Mr & Mrs Johnston, my N Y friends, call'd yesterday to see me—I had

his eyes are troubling badly—but he wields spirit & determination same as ever—am drawing to a close my

I am sitting here in the chair in my room yet—weather fine, rain at nights, to-day a little clouded &

Camden Saturday Night Jan 14 '88 Have had my supper (some rice pudding & a cup of tea) & am sitting here

volumes of Horace Traubel's With Walt Whitman in Camden (various publishers: 1906–1996) and Whitman's "My

Camden March 15 '88 Everything continuing on ab't the same with me—was out to dinner at my friends the

here—the throat trouble still—otherwise well—O'C[onnor] is taking massage treatment —the H[erald] has paid my

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

is from Logan Smith —& the Herald extract is from Habberton (staff H[erald]) —I am sitting here in my

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

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

—tho't it might be instigated by my tonic—& have intermitted it to-day (for the first since you sent)

—am sitting here after my supper, & shall go out in wheel chair to river side—y'r letters rec'd —weather

3d day—havn't taken any medicine in a long time—(no doctors here 3 or 4 months)—sent the big b'k to my

time fanning away the flies &c—not down ill but not far from that—some blackberries & a rare egg for my

breakfast— Sunset —Have had my supper & relish'd it—send this hence Camden (to Phila) 8 P M July 13—

July 12, 89 Dear Walt, I write you briefly this morning before starting on my 2 week vacation to Delaware

At that time I was having one of my streaks of insomnia, & was very wretched for two or three weeks.

I go about all day with two balls of twine at my side, training the young vines in the way they should

worst of the weakness, caving-in & head inertia—but I feel it, the dose, for an hour after taking in my

both—his is one of those college pessimistic dudes Europe (& America too) sends out I am sitting here in my

I have offered & agreed to return her $5.00—one of Wm's subscriptions, thinking one of my books w d be

to-day I believe —is to be frontispieced by a photo (wh' I do not like but the others do, & this is not my

the wheel chair last sunset to river side (full tide fine)—nearly two hours —sat there by the edge in my

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

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.

dreams of you, so distinct that all the next day I felt as if I had been with you; & I wonder whether my

Camden Sunday P M July 21 '89 Dull with me—am sitting quietly in my 2d story room—am not taking the tonic

My eye got open at last, but is still bleary and bad" (Horace Traubel, With Walt Whitman in Camden, Wednesday

every week or month a button or peg gives out—most of the time mildly—but I realize it well enough—my

dulling)—warmth shaded a little to-day & cloudy any how—ate a rare egg & some Graham bread & coffee for my

—I hope to resume practice in the 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.

—God bless you my old and long tried friend—"With fond affection and recollection.