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St Louis Missouri (1000 miles west of Philadelphia) Nov 10 '79 My dear friend Just rec'd received your

city, & Colorado generally,—with Kansas and Missouri—wonders, revelations I wouldn't have miss'd for my

soon be well enough to return home to Camden— I enclose a rude map which will show you the line of my

jaunt—the red lines are of my present trip, while the blue lines are of former journeys of mine, may

long—(my sickness has prevented hitherto what I designed to write) —My sister, brother & nieces all

know where I am and also that I am in the enjoyment of middling good health I heard from you through my

Father some time ago and I have wanted to visit you but I am sorry to say my health will not admit of

my being out much this cold weather.

If you remember I was wounded through my lung and the ball is now near my right kidney and I am not as

I feel quite well to day I have just received a letter from my Brother in my Regt (15th nj) he spoke

know where I am and also that I am in the enjoyment of middling good health I heard from you through my

Father some time ago and I have wanted to visit you but I am sorry to say my health will not admit of

my being out much this cold weather .

If you remember I was wounded through my lung and the ball is now near my right kidney and I am not as

I feel quite well to day I have just received a letter from my Brother in my Regt (15th NJ) he spoke

Loud I call to you, my love!

who I am, my love.

Hither, my love! Here I am! Here!

But my love no more, no more with me!

O what is my destination?

My Legacy. MY LEGACY.

But I, my life surveying, closing, With nothing to show to devise from its idle years, Nor houses nor

lands, nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends, Yet certain remembrances of the war for you, and after

you, And little souvenirs of camps and soldiers, with my love, I bind together and bequeath in this

My Legacy. MY LEGACY.

But I, my life surveying, closing, With nothing to show to devise from its idle years, Nor houses nor

lands, nor tokens of gems or gold for my friends, Yet certain remembrances of the war for you, and after

you, And little souvenirs of camps and soldiers, with my love, I bind together and bequeath in this

dear brothers' and sisters' sake—for the soul's sake; Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

children—with fresh and sane words, mine only; Young and strong I pass, knowing well I am destin'd my

- self myself to an early death: But my Charity has no death—my Wisdom dies not, neither early nor late

, And my sweet Love, bequeath'd here and elsewhere, never dies. 3 Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time, nor change, shall ever change me or my words.

Dear Whitman, This note is written beforehand, in expectation of my paying-in tomorrow at a Post-Office

the ￡33.16.6. wh. which I named to you in my recent letter.

The postal order, on my obtaining it, will be enclosed herein, & dispatched to you.

Since the date of my last something further has come in: it will be accounted for at a future opportunity

On 13 Jany I expect to leave London, & stay some four weeks with my family at the Clarendon Hotel, Ventnor

July 10 1875 Dear, dear son, I am still here—still suffering pretty badly—have great distress in my head

, & an almost steady pain in left side—but my worst troubles let up on me part of the time—the evenings

Eldridge to see to the sending on here of my boxes at Dr. Whites.

Pete didn't you get my last Saturday's postal card? I wrote you one.

I got yours last Monday—Did you get the Camden paper with my College piece in? I sent one.

My dear Mr Whitman, I send you Alys' circular letter and will you please mail it to Miss Nicholson after

I am spending my summer among the Blue Ridge mountains in a place that belongs jointly to my mother and

my aunt Mrs Pearsall Smith.

I don't know whether you remember a young man whom you met at my Uncles several times Tom Worthington

I still intend to continue my course at Bryn Mawr College which will be three years longer and then I

October 31 . 1873 1874 or 5 Dear boy Pete, My condition remains about the same—I don't get ahead any

to notice—but I hold my own, as favorable as I have stated in my late letters, & am free yet from the

Besides I think upon the whole, my general strength is the best it has been yet—for an interval every

Eldridge that he had paid Godey, my substitute, the money I sent on for his October pay.— Washington

Good bye for this time, my loving boy. Walt.

Thursday Feby, 13 189 0 Dear Walt Whitman During my travels so far away from home; I have often thought

of writing you, just walk as once before into your grand presence & explain the interesting parts of my

occasionally (as while here) with an $800.00 order, I continue west to Denver & Leadville and upon my

long confinement which in my case & very many others was a gross injustice upon free men I enjoy the

varied & grand sight now ever so much and while Beer & music is yet one of my standards & enjoyed by

My Mother, brother George, & all, are well.

baby boy, now about a month resident in this mad world—(I write about the baby for Nelly and Jenny)—My

I am quite busy flying around—the printers & stereotypers commence on my immortal work to-morrow—My dear

, dear friend, I hope you are well & in good spirits—I send you my love—also to Charles Eldridge, if

best love—in which I am joined by my Mother.

I caught a little cold on my voyage home, & my outdoor work since my return home has added another to

Of course I have several things to attend to on my return & hardly feel settled down yet into my ordinary

One result of my trip has been—not only to confirm my affection & reverence for yourself—but to give

I thank you for my own lesson.

Love to you, my dearest friend, & best benefactor, from my heart. And may God bless you.

—Excuse the naturality of my metaphor.— Speaking of "naturality" reminds me of the peculiarities that

—My period of purgation is almost up in these diggins.—Thank the pitying fates!

in two weeks more I shall wind up my affairs, and with tears in my eyes bid a sorrowful adieu to these

—My heart swells, and my melting soul almost expires with the agonising idea.

—Luckily for my self-complacency they are mostly whigs.

I looked at my muddy boots, my flannel shirt—and then W. exclaimed: "Go!

own satisfaction, for last ten years.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

in my mother's house.

dear comrades, and I pray God to bless you my darling boys, and I send you all my love, and I hope it

I am not accustomed thus to present my claim to acquaintanceship with writers.

I will believe this also, adding it to my "creed" the "I believes", of my religion which years ago I

I was certain my dear brother would not ask me to read a bad book.

That was my hour of triumph for my poet. For I had heard Mr.

If I were younger I would strive with all my to do something worthy of my worship of your genius, worthy

My paralysis does not lift—I cannot walk any distance—I still have this baffling, obstinate, apparently

My dear friend, your offers of help, & those of my other British friends, I think I fully appreciate,

During my employment of seven years or more in Washington after the war (1865–'72) I regularly saved

a great part of my wages—& though the sum has now become about exhausted, by my expenses of the last

And that is the way I should prefer to glean my support—In that way I cheerfully accept all the aid my

My very dear Friend, Finally I find time and quiet to write you—I beseech you be not angry at what may

on the other hand, to affirm that during this time I had thought it better, influenced, perhaps, by my

duties incidental to my position.

I have just come from my Mother, who, together with my Father, desires to be kindly remembered to you

hopes in the future to have had you & my little girl with me then.

"My opinion is that I have no opinion!

My dear Sir,Yours of 27 January, and Leaves of Grass, received.

and therefore my allusion to it.

I had told Dowden of my not having received any reply to my cards or letters and my apprehension that

That's all there is to my hoarding up these records—as you call it.

I have had a bad day—a very miserable bad day: but I notice my bad days often come just before my best

I am more likely any time to be governed by my intuitive than by my critical self, anyhow.

, in my need: who can tell?

To my sister and my father who in these last few days have seen W. for the first time since his present

One of my doctors thinks much of my head trouble the past three months is from the sun.

I have been very feeble—O my!

For one thing, it gives my idea of my own book: a man's idea of his own book—his serious idea—is not

one point, marked my caution very high—seven and over.

Their seven was backed by my experience with myself.

man,' 'my man,' 'my man.'

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

EARTH, MY LIKENESS.

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

THAT SHADOW MY LIKENESS.

Dear Son Pete, Nothing very new with me—I continue about the same—my general strength the best it has

—As I write this holding the paper on my lap I am sitting here in the parlor, by the heater—have had

my dinner—drank quite a goblet of wine, which I believe has flown into my head.

I wear my old gray suit, & the old black overcoat,—& when very cold, or stormy my gray shawl—If you should

see me now leaning against Milburn's counter, you wouldn't see any difference from last winter —(but my

good oak fire—Am still imprison'd in the sick room—Keep up spirits pretty fair, but weak as ever in my

friends from seeing me)—& for a month or so I was in a horrible plight—a nuisance to myself & all—but my

here in the room—Mrs Davis has just been in & wishes to send her love to you, & says come up & see us—my

is well, & seems to be well off & satisfied—young Harry Bonsall died there three or four weeks ago—my

sisters at Greenport L I and Burlington Vermont are ab't as usual—my brother & sister Lou are well at

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

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

March 7: '88 I was really astonished to hear my quondam college mate—young Henry Norman —was the one

I was in the first flush of my enthusiasm for you; had just read you for the first time, & after a while

matter increases my esteem.

Charity, charity, man, I keep saying (& think of my own grievous sins).

I send you a Transcript marked, and also send you my love in unlimited quantities.

Mebbe Maybe no, & mebby maybe yes," quoth my Italian. I sent Mrs.

Davis the Register with report of my modeling in the church.

I fear my hero belongs to an impossible age.

What 'hinders my going over the whole country?

My health is "boss," & I feel like raging about. Keep so, so.

3-12-1890 Walt Whitman, My Dear Friend:— Allow me to express my ineffable gratefulness to you for the

immense delight your "Leaves of Grass" have thrilled me with, in the form of a few of my rhapsodies

under the ban of your warm regards for my poetic productions—(properly belonging to the 21 & 22 centuries

poems, which were received with much pleasure by the public—But they were the poorest specimens of my

work—Had it been otherwise—that is, one of my most select copies,—the people would have recoiled from

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

Brooklyn December 4 1864 My dear friend Your letter of November 30 came safe, & was truly welcome—if

shall come, almost certainly—Then Charles Eldridge is to be transferred to Boston—I am indeed sorry, on my

Mother remains well, & in pretty good spirits, better than I would have expected—My brother George still

remains a prisoner—as near as we can judge he is at Columbia, S C—we have had no word from him About my

book nothing particular to tell—I shall print it myself—also my new edition of Leaves of Grass—Most

Ford & William & Ethel & Arthur Thompson —(The letter—somehow one of the best I ever rec'd—goes to my

hour or two to the river shore when I feel like it—have a good strong young Canadian (Ed Wilkins ) for my

helper & nurse—have just had what I call my currying for the mid-day —& am probably getting along better

than you all might suppose—fortunately my right & left arms are left me in good strength & volition,

& advice to be a sort of public & speechifying dinner &c. in compliment to my finishing my 70th year

continues so—yesterday & last night was the hottest—still I slept sound, have good ventilation through my

when I woke up, a thing I never remember to have happened to me before, for I was not disturbed in my

own breakfast in my room & my dinner at a restaurant—I have a little spirit lamp, & always have a capital

on my hand, nor had any dressing for the last five days—Mother, I hope you get along with the heat,

it came right, & give him the men's thanks & my love— Mother, have you heard any thing from Han?

Whitman said: "I am jogging along in the old pathway and my old manner, able to be wheeled about some

days and in rainy weather content to stay shut up in my den, where I have society enough in my books

I see a good many actors, who seem to have a fondness for my society. The death of George H.

"Tennyson still writes to me, as do Buchanan and my German friends.

"John Burroughs is my oldest literary friend now living.

SCENTED HERBAGE OF MY BREAST.

O blossoms of my blood!

WHAT THINK YOU I TAKE MY PEN IN HAND? WHAT think you I take my pen in hand to record?

MY LIKENESS! EARTH! my likeness!

THAT SHADOW, MY LIKENESS.

But my chief reliance is on my pen at present.

In the mean time, calmly, toilingly, ohne hast, ohne rast, working away on my literary chef-d-oeuvre,

"Whitman, the Poet of Humanity,"—here in my idyllic, noiseless home-cottage.

Wish I cd could send you some of the pinks, accept my love instead in return for yours, as something

You renovate & cheerify my ethical nature every time I visit you. WS Kennedy.

Camden N J New Jersey Dec December 13—76 '76 Thanks, my dear friend, for your cheery letter, & for your

come on & stay at your house for about a week, if perfectly convenient, & if you have plenty of room—My

(adopted) son, a young man of 18, is with me now, sees to me, & occasionally transacts my business affairs

, & I feel somewhat at sea without him—Could I bring him with me, to share my room, & your hospitality

to time —most of them go to the British Islands— —I see Mr Loag occasionally— Loving regards to you, my

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in this letter), but the relationship

My hope has been frustrated; I am myself a very lonely man without great connecions connections , especially

Therefore my dear friend I can only beg you accept my sincere sympathy with your unfortunate condition

I have myself my considerable lot of difficulties.

In these days I have got a little harbour for my old father and now I am going to marry without fortune

and clinging all my expectations to the incertain uncertain fate of a book, which shall appear in the

Friend witman I now take the plesure of fulfilling my promace of writing to yo hoping to find yo en Joying

good hlth I am not very well i am worse now than wen i got out of bed i tore my wound acoming home the

i have been home i have had the docter and he ordered me to bathe in sider soaky i will hef to have my

better here than they do in washington I find a grate many that donte know me when i arrived in york my

cosin was thare and he brought me to my home it has ben rainy ever since I have been home— give my love

1892 Burlington Vt Jan 24 Only a word my darling to say how precious precious your letter is & how much

I feel your thinking of me now, but But my dearest you will be better & then I may write to you you

have my constant prayers & thoughts always. my dear dear brother only get better. there There is are

for you Want to send you so much love and do feel so thankful that you are better The $5 came s afe my

dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death; But my

charity has no death—my wisdom dies not, neither early nor late, And my sweet love bequeath'd here and

of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

dear brothers' and sisters' sake, for the soul's sake, Wending my way through the homes of men, rich

words, mine only, Young and strong I pass knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death; But my

charity has no death—my wisdom dies not, neither early nor late, And my sweet love bequeath'd here and

of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles, (Though it was thought I was baffled and dispel'd, and my

side, warlike, equal with any, real as any, Nor time nor change shall ever change me or my words. 4

Another post card from you, my dear, kind, old friend on the 2 nd inst —the third I have received from

My best thanks to you for it!

s address upon your first edition (1855) comes off at my house.

Pardon my writing more at present.

My horse is ill so I do most of my round on foot & I am tired tonight.

Houghton, Mifflin, 1891), for which Whitman wrote the Preface (which he later included in Good-Bye My

I am afraid you will think my promise to write to you was not sincere but I have had very little time

to myself for letter writing but now that I have set about to redeem my word I hope it will be welcome

To begin at the beginning of my visit I spent nearly three weeks in New York with Mr. & Mrs.

my visit so far very much.

about and turn my face once more towards Burlington.

I dont don't suppose there Has a day past over my Head without me thinking of you.

Poor Jo Adams Im I'm sorry he is a fine fellow tell him I send him my pies pious regards and hope he

Well Walt I will endevor endeavor to give you a rugh rough scetch sketch of my wanderings since I seen

You know I could not content my self in Phila.

money from the Centennial went down to my sister's she was not at home but Annie, Johnny's Wife was

My dear Sir, Your letter of 22 Novr. reached me the other day thro' Mr. Conway .

I think the most convenient course may be for me first to state the facts about my Selection.

publisher told me that he projected bringing out a selection from your poems, & (in consequence of my

My Prefatory Notice explains my principle of selection to exactly the same effect as given in this present

I had previously given it a title of my own, "Nocturn for the Death of Lincoln"; & in my Prefatory Notice

editorial decisions, which included editing potentially objectionable content and removing entire poems: "My

Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully

MY LEGACY.

, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my

I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference

I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure

Open mouth of my soul uttering gladness, Eyes of my soul seeing perfection, Natural life of me faithfully

MY LEGACY.

, And you trees down in your roots to bequeath to all future trees, My dead absorb or South or North—my

I remember I said before my leaves sprang at all, I would raise my voice jocund and strong with reference

I have offer'd my style to every one, I have journey'd with confi- dent confident step; While my pleasure

What a difference it is with me here—I tell you, Nat, my evenings are frequently spent in scenes that

a few hours a day at copying &c, occasionally write a newspaper letter, & make enough money to pay my

in my room, (have a little spirit lamp) & rub on free & happy enough, untrammeled by business, for I

make what little employment I have suit my moods—walk quite a good deal, & in this weather the rich

love to Fritschy, & Fred Gray—I desire both to write to me—Nat, you also, my dear comrade, & tell me

Calamus 18. p 363 City of my walks and joys!

little you h You city : what do y you repay me for my daily walks joys Not these your crowded rows of

delicious athletic love fresh as nature's air and herbage— —offering me full repa respon ds se equal of my

my own, These repay me—Lovers, continual Lovers continu only repay me.— This manuscript is a draft of

City of my walks and joys