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Said of his condition: "Till this evening, my day has been very poor—a poor one indeed.

That has been my course from the first—to write what I must write—not hesitatingly but decisively—and

But I found no change from my first impression.

I have been recommended by quite a dozen—and a dozen of the best fellows—my fellows, friends—to read

I have often felt, my good luck with the women has been phenomenal!"

The misfortune of the case is, that he happens to be married to my sister. You know the Mrs.

side, who commerces my anxieties, troubles, trials—my brotherly affections—and my sister there, she

Why," he added, "I always went in my early days to the 25-cent place in the theatre, and it was my breath

My early life especially was full of it.

My intimate friends would have their best fun with a man who brought them such a doubt!"

"It was all done, except for capping, in my time.

"Yes, it has all my fortunes! Watch, bankbook, pocketbook, everything."

I stood over him and dictated as he wrote—he making out check in my name.

figures, through which I have drawn my pencil.

As, in fact, I think is usually the case with my manuscript.

and I am still without the first show of substantial strength—though it is true the acute phases of my

"Yes, indeed, essentially knows it well: I think she takes it in—reads nearly all my books.

My forte was—if I can say it that way—in floating.

After I had written my letter to Emerson I wondered if I had not overdone my call.

My Dear Sir:Mr.

Some reference being made to eyesight, W. exclaimed, "Well—that's my case exactly—I am getting worse

and worse fixed—so that by and by my sight will be altogether gone."

may have had its good effect: except that we must not forget there's no way under heaven to give me my

All my faculties seem to be settling down into a masterly incompetency, dullness."

Since then I have not seen my hat," which I found after some search downstairs in the parlor.Left with

"It is a struggle—has been a damnable day—horrible—one of my worst." Looked bad.

W. then, "But I don't feel well—feel the worst—my damnablest."

When Horace showed me his make from the notes, I drew my blue pencil through it, by way of suggestion

Morris exclaims, "My! How I have enjoyed all this!

Give Nellie my dear love. Tell her about me." Morris had put this in today's Bulletin.

My dear Sir,I hardly know through what a malign series of crooked events—absence chiefly on my part in

This is now framed and hangs in my bedroom.

My sister, Tom's wife, sent him a spring chicken.

It printed my Grant piece."

All my own tastes are towards books you can easily handle—put into your pocket.

over before he went to bed, and "leave out in the hall," so I could secure it early in the morning, on my

He minds me most often of a captain—a great captain—chosen for a tempestuous voyage—everything against

It was from him I learned many of my best things about Lincoln.

It was a flash out of heaven: the man was a hero to me at once: I was enthusiastic over my discovery.

It was typical of the common soldier—not uncommon in any sense: my experience has been full of just such

s on my way home, and found him in his bedroom, making up some papers etc. for Bernard O'Dowd, Victoria

its author, at all points of its meaning—so that things perhaps plain to Doctor are not so plain to my

reading it over lately, and it occurs to me that I might have been raspy—raspy—in the assertion of my

Showed her two letters to W.: "It does my heart good to see her hand again."

s immediately after his dinner and before my tea the last few nights and am glad.

Stopped at my newsstand this evening—examined Forum—scribbled on a piece of wrapping paper about a bundle

Also gave me red-lined sheet "To My 71st Year." Had used big pen. "I use it altogether.

And after I had gone on with my description, "How much does it come to?

Said, "I will have my right hand put into the water; no matter about my left."

Said, "This is one of my weakest times."

Button would like the champagne, "Give it to him with my best love."

But I had The Ethical Record in my pocket (January issue).

I said: "I usually get my copy Saturday anyhow."

own possibilities, probabilities: reckoned up my own account, so to speak.

All this time I held the Redpath letter opened in my hand.

It is a waste of breath for my friend to tell me I am healthy when my pulse records the circumstance

PRIVATE [London, Ont.,] 29 Jan [18]90 My dear HoraceYou know that for a long time I have thought (and

or if not surely you could run the subsidy up to this amount—I would willingly make my $3. a month $5

as he is—calling my attention to some of the portraits—particularly Schiller's—saying of this—"What a

I laughed at the glow, but told W. what had been the substance of my letter: then asking him: "Don't

shall drink very little myself—it would not do—only enough to taste—to be satisfied it is right—that my

He held my hand then without change till I said good-bye.

Tell him my love is with him daily & hourly.

Also give my love to that little wife Annie whom I forgot in my other letter.

And to my assent, "And did he say it was all in good order, in no way damaged?"

Said W. thereupon, "My latest judgment is like my first—that this is far and above the best thing we

I shook my head. "Not at all." He laughed gently. "Dry as hell, wasn't it?

My dear Horace:I have yours of the 14th this morning. All quiet.

head: that my head will stand by me to the last."

I had Bucke's letter in my pocket. "How do you come to that conclusion?" I asked.

"I got two anonymous letters in my mail today." "Where are they now?" He smiled.

For one thing I gave him out of it set of proofs of my Lippincott's piece.

: "With the poems I always have a certain sort of conscience that I must not give them out, even to my

I stood before him and read to him from Conservator, first page, my question anent Chadwick's note.

Go with my blessing."

I feel he is not averse to me or my care.

Am up to my eyes (and over) in work.Love to AnneYoursR. M. Bucke 6:20 P.M. In at W.'s.

This—the great revolution of feeling—my recognition of it all—I have had a notion to acknowledge—say,

Informed me, "I wrote my first letter today—a short one. It was for my sister, Mrs.

It shoots in lively style about my body, but chiefly in the legs.

Called out "Horace" with great cordiality—took and held my hand—said, "I had wondered what had become

And I explained my absence—he assenting, "I know—it was all right—I am not disposed to question it.

Said he had no word from Talcott Williams yet anent Reisser colloquy—"my type-written copy" he called

In my pocket a copy of [Harper's] Young People—beautiful double-page engraving by Baude of "The Divine

When you get in town, somewhere within handling of a copy of the Century Dictionary, look up my word,

Not up during my stay.

W. on bed this evening during my whole stay.

my printer's in N.

Y., & which I can send you an order for,) you now have all my books in the market.

The title page is very handsome, and the Lucretian motto delights my soul.

of the poem—"This print strikes me with envy—I never see anything so good but I am persuaded out of my

Asked me about my father's portrait, whose now complete state I described to him.

It came into my mind I had not written to him for a fortnight, so today I sent off a short message, but

a more rapt auditor and that I weighed every word—with this advantage: that I was here, read it at my

Stopped in on my way to Unitarian Church, where Law was to lecture on Alexander Wilson.

Wrote my name on its face. "This may have an especial value—on several accounts.

English rescuers in the dark years of my Camden sojourn.

No one, not my best friends—know what it means to me.

"I think I can lay my hand on it. Why, do you want it?

s and in to see him—no preliminaries—he knowing my step and greeting me, "Welcome, Horace—and love!

They are my greatest dread: they tear me up by the roots." Asked, "How is Whittier?"

W. turned his face half my way, put his right hand up to his ear and listened, eyes open.

When you write him, Horace, do not forget my word—love, only love—it is all I can send now."

What had been my feeling?

He probably got hold of my piece—knew I had been present at the concert: my habits, enjoyment: inserted

My book is my best letter, my response, my truest explanation of all.

In it I have put my body and spirit.

I wrote to Stedman for W. to-daytoday: sent the message out of my sheet of notes.

Even at the last, when an answer was given to my question, it was still so indefinite I could not make

it out—do not know to this day if my 8 dollars were actually received.

I have often struggled to say that, in my own way, but a less way." Friday, January 10, 1890

Give them all my love—all my love!" And almost as J. held his hand feebly dropped into a doze.

My love to the wife, to all the children—bless 'em all—bless—bless!"

"Well then you have the substance of my changes."

In my left hand the candle. Warrie leaned over and lifted W. into a sitting posture.

Give them all my love—Annie, Tom, Herbert. O the children—the children!"

He started up instantly on my quiet entrance. "Oh!"

You have touched a chord that always induces my sympathy."

I looked at my watch. He asked: "Haven't you time?"

over the manuscript to my colleague.

I wanted to send Minden my translation of Starting from Paumanok, with my preface to the work and Freiligrath's

"I laid it out for you yesterday, but it slipped my mind when you were here."

s on my way home—spent a good half an hour.

W. went on: "I have written my wish on the top of the leaf—they will understand.

I put in: "Listen to my guess: I guess the book will come from 60 to 75 pages." He smiled.

"I shouldn't wonder—that is exactly my guess."

My new writing on Walt takes quite a different turn from the old.

I have my material all out, & I have now to sort out & reject & put it together.

My deepest love to the dear old man. I keep well, but need a change.

My evening's talk with W.

W. said to my description, "How glorious! I can feel it all.

The more sure I am in my faith the less I feel such antagonism—as my faith grows, my irritability wanes

When I tell W. of the value I think belongs with "Good-Bye My Fancy"—that it has music and power—he says

You have more chapters than me to write still: my last chapter is done."

I expressed my own protest, but he insisted, "Have it your own way, anyhow!"

And to my reply, "We have heard nothing for six weeks," he exclaimed, "You must write her up—find out

Then my good-bye!

I remember my call this day a year ago. He gave me a copy of Passage to India. A year hence!

Give my love to W.W.

Some of my friends want your books and are forwarding the money through me.

I have been showing the photographs you gave me to my sister Dora—whose likeness you have.

preparations for my winter course of lectures.

"He took a few sketches here—I thought them wonderful meagre at the time—to my mind they seemed to come

flower from the bunch which was in a mug on the table and saying—"Take this to Aggie—give the dear girl my

W. said, "I am looking forward to my friends—to have them read all these pieces: there's a new flavor

These two months I am up and as strong as ever.I am now quite used to my new situation, and my opinion

In this way I secured my "bread and butter" and, now, can set to my intellectual task; I can read, write

The question comes up in my mind whether they have the Ingersoll pamphlets yet—any of them."

It will be my last—my last! I haven't the least doubt of it now."

My mail brought me intelligence from Burroughs of the "publisherial" fate of his late writing on W.:

My love to Walt.

"Good night," I said, "Good night," and he pressed my hand and replied with his own "Good night!

My many exuberant letters of forenoon already knocked off their feet.

It is hardly fair to use these strong words but there are no others to express my meaning.

He laughed over my phrase "prosaically poised."

"That is my sufficient reward.

"That is so: I was just in my beginnings then—just coming out."

I owned up to my suspicions of Carnegie.

"The Bible: my black book—the English Bible." We found it.

The sky, the river, the sun—they are my curatives."

And it was to my surprise, too, he replied that there was—and when I asked its name, he gave me, Puget

you into one of Whistler's nocturnes," etc. and he laughed, "Well, I was going to quote a saying of my

To my inquiries saying, "I did not know him personally—that is, to speak to him, but I have seen him.

I am ever to say has been said in the old channels—in 'Specimen Days'—in 'November Boughs'—and yet my

"From my very first days up I have brushed myself—had a flesh brush: it has been a source of refreshment—not

I like your idea much better—much: it more exactly reflects me, my mission."

Good of you to attend to the complete vol. for my friend Muirhead—wh.

And he added, "Paine was one of my first loves and is one of my last, and he will yet achieve a high

Described my day's letter to Symonds. "I like it well—I like it all."

It was a good answer—would have been my own." A few more words, then farewell.

After I had left he called Warrie, "My grog, boy."

—that I invited him here, that he was my guest!—the young scamp that he is!

You know, my friends tell me I am very slow to get mad: very slow: I rarely get mad but when I do I'm

"But Mary respected the death-wish: the situation grew worse and worse: I had my carriage then: Bill

I suppose it comes from my being much run down.I am glad you liked the photo.

I have no doubt her article is good, and when I have read it, I mean to write her my thanks.

Stopped upon my entrance. Talked freely at once. "What news do you bring?"

Then he questioned me about my "day's doings."

He was on to my point. "Well—he was warmer then than he was later on."

I slept in my boat or under it all the time.

Well—Brinton ought to know: with John and with him on my side I am well defended.

Friday, December 5, 1890Left Philadelphia in 5 P.M. train—no baggage but my umbrella, a comb, a toothbrush

No one up there but girl who directed me to my room. Did not see Johnston at once.

But by and by, as I sat in the room reading, he appeared in undress at the door between my room and another—coming

My Burns is not of particular value. As I have said, it is not an old copy.

Amusedly said, "I tried to make my daughters see it the other night—read it to them—but no, they would

mechanic and with Star & Sons, although a western man.Now, at Chicago, I have just bought "Good-Bye My

I reminded him of my original favor.

"Is my time at last here? Alas!" Was he curious to see the book?

I had and yet have a sort of idea that my books (I am getting ready, or about have ready, my completed

But my means, meagre at best, have gone, for my expenses since, and now, while not hitherto actually

bodily ills would seem to leave me—then I'dI would feel almost like my complete self again: what my

He knew my step—and of course knew my voice. "Shall I strike a light?"

I turned the letter over in my mind a good deal today, and this evening, as I ate my dinner, the light

I spoke of my preference, rather for the independent instinct of the Irish woman.

W. then: "Yes—so do I: I abate nothing of my democratic sympathies.

"He is one of my prime favorites—the earliest of all."

He tells an anecdote of my brother which is thought characteristic."

But for my own part I want it clearly understood that I do not in the least share such a notion: not

"Warrie, give me my handkerchief. It is back here." Much coughing."This is Christmas morning.""Oh!

I found by drinking coffee or tea or even milk punch it stirred up my brain, so I stopped.

It's my fault altogether."3:40 P.M. Burroughs went up and into the room.

McAlister says at this hour, "I still adhere to my opinion. The rally is only temporary." 7:50 P.M.

He saw me flitting about with my black dress on and said to me, 'O Mary!