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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

come home for a short time, & pretty soon—(I will try it two or three days yet, though, & if I find my

My dear sir, your contributions are very, very welcome—they go to the direct sustenance, cheer, & comfort

it, are very serious about it—Mother, it is serious times—I do not feel to fret or whimper, but in my

—& how the dear little girls—Jeff, I believe the devil is in it about my writing you, I have laid out

Mother, I have just had my breakfast, I had it in my room, some hard biscuits warmed on stove, & a first

after a long spell of rain storms, but the last two or three days very fine—Mother, I suppose you got my

every thing to fight for their last chance—calling in their forces from southwest &c—Dear Mother, give my

love to dear brother Jeff & Mat & all—I write this in my room, 6th st— Walt Walt Whitman to Louisa Van

infantry, that wouldn't do the same, on occasion— Tuesday morning April 12th Mother, I will finish my

envelopes, & one to George—Write how you are, dear Mother, & all the rest—I want to see you all—Jeff, my

sis is—I am well as usual, indeed first rate every way—I want to come on in a month, & try to print my

wrote yesterday to Han, & sent one of George's last letters from Annapolis—Mother, I suppose you got my

blessing on him, he says, I am no scholar & you are—poor dying man, I told him I hoped from the bottom of my

—dear sister Mat, I quite want to see you & California, not forgetting my little Hattie too— Walt 2 o'clock

can know the men so well as I do, I sometimes think— Mother, I am writing this in Willard's hotel, on my

Alvord's receipt for my plates, in his vault. Walt Whitman to Peter Eckler, 3 May 1865

Captain: Could you give me a little further information about my brother Capt. George W.

Was my brother really well & hearty? Was Lieut. Sam'l Pooley, 51st N. Y., there, & how was he?

Do you know whether my brother got letters & boxes we sent him?

, or any points relating to my brother, it would deeply oblige me—address — Walt Whitman Washington D

C Walt Whitman to Captain William Cook, 27 February 1865

My dear brother, Your letter has only just reached me though I see the Brooklyn post office stamp is

I get my meals where I can—they are poor & expensive—You speak of the Indian office—it is a Bureau in

Jeff, you need not be afraid about my overdoing the matter.

I shall go regularly enough, but shall be on my guard against trouble.

torments my best, best love—Jeff, give my respects to Mr.

He was a captain when Whitman mentioned him again in a letter from May 25, 1865.

along—we had a cold week, but the past three days has been much moderated—I am satisfied in the main with my

I have such a good bed—& my stove does very well—it is a little bit out of the way in location—My work

easy—I am through by 4—I find plenty who know me—I received a week's pay on Monday, came very acceptable—My

My room is 468 M street, 2d door west of 12th—from 10 till 4, I am in the Indian Bureau, north-east corner

Mason, who "used to be in my party on the Water Works."

According to his letter to Jeff on January 30, 1865, Whitman wrote to "Captain" Mason the same day; on

Dear son, I did not finish my letter because I have not been able to get the little picture of Lincoln

& Washington —but I succeeded in getting one this morning—I send it as a little present to my dear boy

live at the same place in M street, 468—only I have moved into the front room—it is pleasanter—I have my

meals brought up to me—my landlady gives me very good grub, $32.50 a month—Well I must draw to a close

Now, Ally, I must bid you good by, & I send you my love, my darling boy, & also to your parents, for

My dear Mr.

Wood, I write to solicit from you $2, for helping my soldier boys to some festivities these holiday &

I keep stout as ever, my face red and a great beard just the same.

I send my love to you, darling boy. Walt Whitman to a Soldier, early 1866

If I hadn't got your letter of 23d, I should likely have written to you very soon, of my own accord,

I have been home in Brooklyn the last two months, to see my mother, & pay a visit to New York, &c. and

It is now a year ago since you sent it—you spoke in that letter of your parents—You must give my love

But I wonder whether we shall ever come together again, you & I, my loving soldier boy.

I send you my love, & must now bid you farewell for present, dear soldier boy.

abatements & dykes are shattered & threaten to give out—we will see—At this moment I am sitting up here in my

room alone rather late—had my dinner, supper of a slice of toast & cup of tea—quiet & comfortable enough—good