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Dear boy Pete, Nothing particular or new in my condition—I have been to the Doctor's to-day—had quite

Good bye my loving son. I will try to do better next week.

where I wanted you to come & see me—(& still want you, if you have a chance. ) But I spend most of my

down at an old farm down in Jersey where I have a fine secluded wood & creek & springs, where I pass my

time alone, & yet not lonesome at all (often think of you Pete & put my arm around you & hug you up

dear —I still make my brother's house at Camden my headquarters, & keep my room there—address my letters

the whole, am getting along pretty well, & good spirits The new edition of my books I sell enough of

Jersey, Feb 20–1874 Friday afternoon—2½ Dear boy Pete, Well Pete, dear son, I have just had my dinner

(stewed chicken & onions—good,) & here I sit again in the same old chair, in the parlor, writing my

time comes— Have not written any for publication the past fortnight—have not felt at all like writing—My

—I have a poem in the March Harper —as I believe I mentioned in my last.

Take care of yourself my darling boy— Your old Walt, as always.

depot—it would have done me good, even to have a minute, & a good hold of you once more—Nothing new in my

Ned Stewarts Stewart's —When you write tell Ned I am here in Brooklyn, loafing around—& that I send my

fine—warm through the middle of the day, & cool mornings & nights— I fall in with quite a good many of my

you & me—no women in the house—he is single—he wants me to make my home there—I shall not do that, but

that night—My dear loving boy, how much I want to see you—it seems a long while—I have rec'd a good

loving son, & give my respects to any of the boys that ask about me.

Oct 2 Dear boy and Comrade You say it is a pleasure to you to get my letters—well, boy, it is a real

write to you—I just write off-hand, whatever comes up, and, as I said before, mostly about myself & my

Dear Pete, with all my kind friends here & invitations, &c., though I love them all, & gratefully reciprocate

Take care of yourself, & God bless you, my loving comrade. I will write again soon.

Nothing particularly new in my affairs.

bath—it is about 90 rods distant, & I walk there & back—Love, love, love, Your old Walt I still make my

I have a great deal of pain in my head yet—no let up.

Farewell my loving son, till next time. Walt. I send a small bundle of papers.

March 19 Think I am getting round to my former state—(Still some bad spells)—go out when the weather

Pete I thought I would send you a little change enclosed—all I have by me to-day—(but I have plenty at my

with the frogs & lilacs in the spring—I keep a bully good heart, take it altogether—& you must too my

Dear boy Pete, Well, I am sitting here in the parlor again writing my weekly letter—as I write, the rain

feeling pretty bad, but it seems to be mostly from a severe cold in the head—anyhow I am having one of my

bad spells, of which I have gone through so many—had a bad night last night—but have eat my breakfast

week, & I have enjoyed sailing across the Delaware, & the splendid sunsets most every evening—it is my

you scratch down, as I sit here a great deal of the time, (& time is dull & lonesome, at the best)— My

to write to me,—he is a young man I always loved. ½ past 2 —I have just had a nice oyster stew for my

I will try to stop in Philadelphia & find that little dictionary I promised you— So long, my loving son

Aug. 29–1874 Dear Pete, I still remain about the same, & with nothing to write about in the way of my

have the breeze through—I can have what I wish in the grub line—have plenty of good strawberries—& my

much change so far—but I feel comparatively comfortable since I have been here—& better satisfied — My

a bad spell—have distress in the head at times, but keep up a good heart—or at any rate try to—Give my

As I left my overcoat in Washington, I have been compelled to get something here—so I have bought me

Then away late—lost my way—wandered over the city, & got home after one o'clock.

& heft, to say nothing of my reputation, is doing pretty well.

Then I thought I would come up & sit a while in my room.

So long, dear Pete—& my love to you as always, always.

Dear Pete, I am having a better time here than I had my last visit.

swimming— Mother is only middling—has some pretty bad spells with rheumatism—will break up here, & go with my

It is either $120 (or $130, I am not sure—but I have a memorandum in my desk at Washington)—I am feeling

real well, & hope you are too, my loving boy.

Dear Pete, According to announcement in my last, I have made a movement & change of base, from tumultuous

I suppose you got my last letter, 14th, from N. Y. I expect to return to N. Y. about the 22d.

Last night, when I went up at 11 o'clock to my room, I took up three great bunches, each as big as my

It is quite a change here from my associations & surroundings either in Washington or New York.

I send you my love, dear Pete. So long . Will write from N. Y. soon as I return there. W W P.S.

will write you a few lines as I sit here, on a clump of sand by the sea shore—having some paper in my

splendid swim & souse in the surf—the waves are slowly rolling in, with a hoarse roar that is music to my

send it, as I can get along otherwise — I am doing very well, both in health & business prospects here—my

My condition is still what may be called favorable—that is I still keep up without having any of those

Yesterday, & yesterday evening I felt better than usual—but am not so well to-day—the worst of my case

My walking does not improve any at all.

My boy that had his eye hurt is doing rather badly too.

Good bye for this time, my loving boy. Walt Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, 16[–17] October [1873]

all alone in the house , & have had a good time—fine bright warm day—been out twice for short walks, (my

little dog accompanying me)—rest of the time up here alone in my 3d story south room—done up & sent

off my two books to a subscriber in England —Eat my dinner alone, wished you could be with me then, &

them—About coming on I cannot say now, but I shall come , & before long —Love to Mr and Mrs Nash—Love to you my

—Still I go out some, though very stiff—& lately some spells in my head rather bad & queer.

What I have said in former letters about my general strength still holds good—otherwise I am in a bad

the pipes through the house, & burst them yesterday, causing great trouble—I too have got a bad cold, my

three hours during the day)— I will only write this very short letter to you this time, but send you my

love, my darling son—I think about you every day dear son—will write more, soon—here is a kiss for you

letter to you this time—I feel pretty well, but don't seem to feel like writing—Good bye for to-day, my

Dear son, I send you my letter a day ahead this week —Nothing new with me—rec'd the letter of last Sunday—also

I am now in the eighth week of my furlough—it is seven weeks last Tuesday night since we parted there

add only a few words, in order to put it in the mail this evening—I am working a while every day at my

printing yet—but I go around considerable—still go out in the bay—& enjoy myself among my friends here

find myself now far more for the French than I ever was for the Prussians — Then I propose to take my

does not affect me much—it is not near as oppressive here as the Washington heat—I rec'd your letter my

As I write I am sitting in my mother's former room, in her old arm chair—Spend a great deal of my time

Pete, my darling son, I still think I shall weather it, but time only can show— —Mother's death is on

my mind yet—time does not lift the cloud from me at all —I want much to get to the sea-shore, either

So long my darling boy. Walt. Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, 15–[16] July [1873]

— I expect to return in about two weeks—I am writing this here in the kitchen home,—I have deserted my

cakes for breakfast—sometimes I fry them myself—I wish you could just be here & eat breakfast—I think my

mammy makes the best coffee in the world, & buckwheats ditto—mince-pies ditto— —My new edition looks

the best yet—it is from the same plates as the last, only in One Vol. bound handsomely in green cloth—my

books sent to England by to-morrow's steamer—Dear son, I send my best love, as always.

sinking nor getting worse—I have had some very bad times, & have some pretty bad ones yet, mostly with my

head—& my leg is about as useless as ever—still I am decidedly no worse, & I think now I am even getting

myself—something like what I was before mother's death—I cannot be reconciled to that yet—it is the great cloud of my

unfurnished rooms, or top floor, somewhere on or near the car route—Pete if you see Charley Toner, give him my

Good bye, my dear loving boy. Walt. Walt Whitman to Peter Doyle, [14–15 August 1873]

Mother is well, & my brothers the same. I am going to-morrow to Providence, R.

My friend O'Connor is quite unwell, and is absent from Washington away down on the New England coast.

I believe I told you I was finishing up about 230 copies of my book, expecting to sell them.

Dear boy, I send you my love. I will write you a line from Providence. So long, Pete.

Walt I have been debating whether to get my leave extended, & stay till election day to vote—or whether

.: "My purpose was to kill two birds with one stone—get well and fix up the 'Carpenter,' but I fear neither

Dear Pete, dear son, I am sitting here in my room again writing to you—there is no particular change

in the situation—we are having some pretty cold weather here—I go out a little every day, but my walking

I suppose you got mine last Tuesday— —I have just had my dinner, bean soup, boiled beef, & pumpkin-pie

worse—it is now just after 2, & I am feeling quite comfortable—& hope this will find you all right, my

I shall print my College Poem in a small book—it will be small—& is intended as the beginning of a larger

for me—I am writing this in the house in Portland av—we are having a showery afternoon— —Good bye, my

Brooklyn, Friday, July 14. 1867 or '8 Dear Pete, It is pretty much the same with me, as when I wrote my

former letters—still home here with my mother, not busy at any thing particular but taking a good deal

letters that every thing goes on right with you on the road—give my best regards to my friends among

the drivers & conductors—Dear son, I shall now soon be coming back, & we will be together again, as my

Love to you, my dearest boy, & good bye for this time Walt.

Dear Pete, I want some things taken out of my trunk, & put in a bundle & sent here by express.

you this afternoon, to-morrow , or next will do just as well, as I am in no hurry— —You both go up in my

room & get them—I want My old gray suit , coat vest &, (I think there are two pair of pants) My old

Dear Pete, Here I am yet, in my big chair in the parlor—I am up & around, but not very well—I am having

O'Connor— I have no doubt I shall feel better—my sickness comes & goes—& my relief spells the same—I

me a long time, & which I had quite given up—which puts me in better spirits—good bye for present, my

hold out,—walking or like, than for nearly now four years—bad enough yet, but still decidedly better —(My

accident (I mean the victory in battles) than it is generalship— —Pete I am sitting up here alone in my

snap of the last three days very well—to-day has been moderate & nice here—Nothing new or special in my

affairs—I am selling a few of my books (the new 2 Vol. 10 dollar edition) from time to time—mostly to

English & Irish purchasers—it is quite funny how many of my books are sent for from Ireland — Love to

My spell of let up & feeling somewhat more comfortable continues, with some interruptions—night before

behindhand— I have thought frequently of Parker Milburn—all his ways, & his good points, come up in my

Sumner —Your letter came Monday, & the Herald — Friday, March 13—12 M Not very well to-day—To add to my

makes it just right—I have been out just a little, but was glad to get back—I am feeling tolerable, but my

out, in a few minutes' walk—I have had two or three quite good spells this week,—sufficient to arouse my

My appetite still holds out—& my sister cooks very nice, gets me what I want— Pete your letter of 8.

My brother Jeff has been on here this week from St. Louis—got in a car in St.

desk, from what I hear from my substitute —He writes me now & then—does my work very well, & more work

—I send you some papers to-day— —There is nothing new with me, or my condition—My principal malady is

no worse)—but I have had for three or four days a wretched cold in the head, sore throat, most lost my

nice view for me to sit & look out—the letter carrier comes around in about an hour from now, & takes my

to-day to be what you are, than to be him, with his $10,000 a year—poor thin-livered cuss that he is— My

about as usual—your postal card came to-day—papers last Monday—As I write, (1 p.m.) am having one of my

Pete, you say my sickness must be worse than I described in my letters—& ask me to write precisely how

Yesterday I thought I felt as strong & well as ever in my life—in fact real young & jolly.

It is now towards 3—Mother & I have just had our dinner, (my mammy's own cooking mostly.)

Pete, the fourth week of my vacation is most ended. I shall return the middle of next week.

Give my love to Johnny Lee —let him read this letter, & then return it to you.

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.

April 10, 12 M Dear Pete, 74 Nothing very new or different in my condition, or any thing else—have hardly

Not much of a letter this time, my loving boy—as I dont don't seem to be able to write much—though, as

friend Ch: Johnson a few evenings since on the ferry—had quite a talk about you, &c— Nothing very new in my

Washington to New York, & so was some in hopes of seeing you in Philadelphia)— No change in my condition

or prospects—the young man, Walter Godey, still works as my substitute in the Solicitor's office—I havn't

—My sister has just called me to my dinner—so I will close for this time.

Philadelphia—it is hard work, especially as I have no one to go with me—but I put a bold face on, & my

easily do if I would I should like much to go on the trips so handy & cheap, right as you might say from my

is to have every thing wanting—(Pete, dear son, there was $89 coming to you, of the money you put in my

love—also my love to Mr & Mrs.

Nash the next time you go there—so good by for the present my darling son, & you must keep good heart

My Dear Bolger Here is an article I have reeled off for you if you want it your telegram recd recieved

I have been prostrated by the heat into even more than my usual disability, but trust I am getting around—Respects

March 1, 1882, in which he quoted Swinburne's praise of Whitman: "I have by no manner of means relaxed my

Camden New Jersey U S America July 26 I have to-day today sent, same address as this card, my Two Volumes—Please

this, Mr Horace Traubel, a personal friend of mine, the same as you would with me, & consider him as my