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bless my heart! I never thought of it at all, the whole day through.

That's a good sample of my memory these days.

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!"

Much of my reason for going would be, the weather, my condition, the case of transportation—this probably

It is, in my eyes, a valuable volume—peculiarly valuable, unique,—I might almost call it sweet—for two

"I shall send it—or let you send it—just as comes up as most convenient and easy—fits in with my mood

speeches of Gilder, Hawthorne, Bonsall, Garland, Eyre, and he will examine, suggest, and return to my

could parallel in nothing else than in those lines of Whitman's on Columbus— "Poor, old and paralyzed,My

"As it is now, it will not go into any of my books."

Tuesday, July 30, 1889On my way out of town, stopped in to see Whitman at 5, and found him eating his

"I always leave my title-page till the last and always keep a full set of proof-pages as I go along.

It has always been my habit to do so: I have found it a very good way."

Asked me about my country trip last night—of the great rains and how I traversed them, interpolating

"I forgot all about his name," he exclaimed, "my usual habit—nowadays!"

In my old days I take on the usual privilege of years—to go slow, to be less vehement, to trust more

means democracy, says democracy—seems to take easy hold of what I hope is ever and ever the point of my

It is to be my treat.

Asked me if Castle was "any good" any more—and upon my negative, "Well I supposed not, as a singer—but

That is my habit—they call it my procrastination—it has always been my habit.

And while my friends always declare that I have lost much by it—my best opportunities, even—I feel for

If you had followed my original notion—which has not been my notion since—and had got it out at once,

"That is my price to Dave, and this man shall have the like favor."

I have met him—years ago, in Brooklyn—perhaps several times—and my impression of him then was what it

4, 1889Did not see Whitman today, but he went over proof-sheets I left with him and sent them up to my

Editorial DepartmentThe Century MagazineUnion Square—New YorkAug. 2—1889.My dear Mr.

the suggestion about O'Connor—& regrets that we have not room for what you suggest.Let me say that my

such that I would not dishonor him by letting a report be printed which did not accurately represent my

what I said & what I am prepared to defend, without the addition of new ideas, or illustrations, & to my

In all my experience I have never met a man who didn't pursue his own pleasure against mine.

But the ride was wearisome—it tried my head severely—though in a little while after I got there I had

I suppose Backwater's picture would be considered ideal—indeed, it is good—but to my taste, it falls

Lamented in his resigned, good-natured way that he could not go with me into the country—I being on my

"In my opera days, I always took care to get a libretto the day before, then took care to leave it at

And on my saying "yes" and saying I wished he might see him, he looked dubious.

wonderful good—you cannot bring the shells home to your room or the sound of the sea or the skies—nor I my

old days, my youth, my forty years ago, any more!"

Ed gave him my address but of course he did not come to see me.

Told him of my postal from Yarros that the O'Connor piece would be published in the next number of Liberty

proved—North, South, East, West—all of them—the plain every-day men—I should still go a-begging for my

or two, I have wished for about a page—will no doubt have something to say myself—but cannot make up my

I always keep to my own method—to write as moved to write, and what: and what depends upon the moment

Called my attention to the package he had laid out and addressed to my old man friend.

Give them to him with my love." Package very liberal—magazines, etc.

s antagonism of some of my own notions which seem in line with his teachings and should, one would think

"Yes," he said, to my question, "Yes, I have been out—down to the river: and how beautiful—oh!

"The river is my elixir," he finally said—"and such."

up—touched up to perdition's point: I wrote him about it—not to do it—as you know,—but I suppose he got my

then, "highest is low, sometimes, to the other fellow"—and he was the other fellow in this case.Called my

Also called my attention to another pamphlet—about Rudolf Schmidt—written or sent by Rosenberg (referred

He had forgotten—I told him—that it was Danish, therefore of doubtful meaning to my father.

Called my attention to absence of one of Gutekunst photos.

I said: "Then you think my instinct was right?

But my memory! my memory!"

Asked me about my work at the bank.

his glasses: "I suppose something or other I have needed some day and not found: as with so much of my

And to my assent— "Well—I'll examine this as it stands—see what is suggests—see what comes of it: perhaps

Still we talked about constituency, and to my various remarks he rejoined: "There may be—there may be

am here—that I am listened to at all—as the boys said, when I was young there in New York, have got my

Digestion is poor—poor indeed—I am in a bad way: belly, bladder, catarrh—my brain, physical brain—all

And to my questions as to how the book wore on him, he said assuringly—"Well, well!

"The wife was my friend—I was proud of her—and they had good babies—how I loved them!

And at my assent he did go on for some time.

"I am glad to see you spell Shakspere the short way," he remarked—spelling it—"it is always my way—has

It may be true that my question to Gilder had something to do with it—for here, truly, at last, it is

Fels, Jennie May, and my sister Agnes.

I went in first—he greeted me—then saw and recognized Aggie—said: "How are you, my dear?"

My friends the Staffords lived away from the town—had a farm.

and on my shaking my head: "Well—I have—particularly years ago—in younger years.

Kissed him goodby—he held my hand warmly—said "Goodnight boy—goodnight! We'll meet again!"

Davis had gone and my exclamation: "How beautiful in their own element!"

honey—don't make enough of the other side of the critter—and there is another side, as all you—all my

To my demur, explaining: "I know that is the harsh view—that there is another.

I spoke of having read "Song of the Rolling Earth" aloud in my room—of the delight it gave me.

It is about here somewhere among my trash and would serve well for you to know.

I left with him proof of his "autobiographic note," which he promised to send up to my house tomorrow

I said: "Let Ed get it of my mother when he goes up to the house"—to which—"That's so—that will do—though

I was so drawn to them—they seemed so significant—I took my scissors—cut them out—and shall try to keep

them, if I can—if they don't get mislaid and buried, like so much of my material.

Called my attention to the Century. "Morris has a poemet there," he said. Mrs.

W. thought my suggestion a good one. Saturday, November 30, 1889

Called my attention to a copy of The Illustrated London News sent by Pearsall Smith.

"It has parts of which I have my doubts.

My brother George knows the fraud. He was a pipe inspector there in New York.

W. called my attention to a curious circular issued by his painter, Curtz.

So I rely upon a good account from you to make up for my loss."

And then he added to my remonstrance that the picture did not satisfy me—"I am not always sure but you

Then, however: "And yet my friend Arnold would say to all this: You would not talk so if you were a reader

W. saw my sister's inquiring look and knew what it meant.

W. listened to my detail of this with apparently intense interest.

I am very careless of my possessions.

The fact is the subject was so august to my mind that I never got courage or time to sit down to it.

Now about my obligation on November Boughs, I despair of doing what I wish to do.

I like once a year, when I can, to give my people a good thorough dose of some noble works.

I had in my hands a package of his circulars, from Ferguson. "What's that?" he asked.

And on my rendering over, said: "It looks well—and on good paper, too!"—so was quite satisfied.

After he had shaken hands with me, he said: "The McClure syndicate has taken my Brazil piece—may use

He said I should "put it in my pocket" if it was of interest— "though how can it be?"

And on my protestation of having just come from supper—"Oh! this will do you good even if you have!"

Called my attention to some of the illustrations.

There were several of my friends present there—vehement friends—and they thought I had made a great mistake

Called my attention to a letter from McKay. "He enclosed me payment for the three books.

And to my remark: "Australia is more American than English, anyway—" he said: "Yes, it is so: see how

I said then: "I have another of my contributors who has given me 80 dollars so far" &c.

I have been much criticised for my use of the term—'divine average.'"

What now can make me happy as in those days when I was content with my dinner-pail—the bread, pork, sip

I get my dinner about 4 or 5—and my appetite keeps up amazingly—I don't flunk one meal out of 20: I have

copy of the big Gutekunst portrait for Agnes, who means to have it reproduced large, in charcoal, by my

Immediately on my entrance, almost, he spoke of a volume he took up in his hands—Roden Noel's "Essays

W. much enjoyed my story, exclaiming: "That's John Bull—that's the bull of him—supercilious, disdainful—thinks

—and as a general thing they go right: though it goes against my grain to send off a letter or what not

then: "Well—do so then: and I will come down when I am ready—and shall not hurry—shall quietly finish my

tell an Englishman in his talk—but lately one or two instances have come up which completely stagger my

But he did not despair of America: "There were years in my life—years there in New York—when I wondered

Worth my while to look up?"

—and assenting with a "do—be sure to do it then" when I suggested bringing my own paper down.

It seems Judge Garrison is to take them, and wants my signature. Oh yes!

There was 'Leaves of Grass': what a fight I had for that name"—and to my interposed idea that time had

settled in its favor,—"Well—for 15 or 20 years, everybody objected to it—even my friends."

And he added: "My critic gave all the intellectual reasons in the calendar, but of the emotional, the

I had Roden Noel's book with me, under my arm—and he asking me "How do you get along with it?"

"You look as if you had come in out of the mists," he said—as I had—the fog strong—my coat collar up—moistened

Called my attention to Herbert Aldrich's book, turned—open—face down—on a pile of papers.

But as to my proposed letter quizzing Edward Emerson he was still doubtful.

Very cordial and spoke of my birthday, this day. "Thirty-one!

I had a copy of The Standard in my pocket.

At this calling my attention to a copy of Poet Lore, "Do you see it?"

"My first impulse was, to have you read it, then pass it on to Dr.

One of my first questions is always that—not always spoken—not methodically thought, even—but in a way

I have never yet fully made up my mind whether I should most like to have that fine balance of critical

This piece of Stoddard's amounts to nothing at all—I could write more myself, though my knowledge of

Davis, and when she asks him how he is, he replies curiously—'still doing my old business—still making

And W. then laughing: "I am still at my own business—still making baskets and baskets."

I had written to Mead asking another month for my Whitman article, and he proves content, to that or

list of letters that must be written, and this morning I rec'd yours of the 18th ult. again enforcing my

I have been working very hard in the past year and, in addition to my work in Lachine, have had 2 patents

(in which I am only part inventor) on my mind, with much writing and drawing to do in all my spare moments

This, as much as any one thing, is why my time has been broken into and why I have not written sooner

Yes, I remembered that my payments were only up to Nov. 1st (through Oct.) and as I had expected to start

I have marked in my note book 'rec'd'"—spelling it out—"and no doubt for good reason."

I have told you about my Chihuahua experience.

On the chair a sprig of holly, which he called my attention to.

I have been speculating what to do with the letter—whether to send it on one of my combination trips—to

If it was dropped, it must have been for some good reason—for I have my reasons—to me the best of reasons—for

"Take my books!

Long ago I first came across them—cherished them: they have been part of my household for many years—a

My father has been making a large copy of the Gutekunst picture and W. said: "I shall probably stop in

And on my negative merrily exclaiming, "Nor have I bite!"

"I have had quite a curiosity," he said once more, "to fall on the track of my Brazilian poemetta—I looked

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."

It is very kind of you to say you would like to see my translation and that Walt Whitman himself would

Was quite well—"comfortable, in my sense."

New Year's wish—he holding my hand and exclaiming—"Good boy!

Mind you, I don't tell this to you as a thing I know—it is only my guess."

I quoted against this my own edition (1876)—which W. had not seen—in which W. appeared.

—"Do you think it would be worth my while to hunt it up?"