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her—she was cheerful to a degree and at noon of the day she died sat up in her chair and directed how my

.— Dearest mother— I am still troubled with a severe cold in my head—I suppose it is that which causes

is much chance for it—It looks as though we are going to have snow—feels cold & raw—I am sitting at my

in with a photograph of me—his mother had bought it at a place here, & sent it to me for me to write my

bright, & comfortable enough—I did not have any bad spells in the head yesterday—nor, so far, to-day—My

a present of the most beautiful red rose you ever see—I have put it in a little glass of water, on 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

I rec'd your letter, dear mother—you may rest assured that I write the exact facts about my sickness—I

window looking out on the river & scenery—it is beautiful weather now—they have sent over & paid me my

afterwards that he (the sick man) had not eat so much at a meal, in three months—Mother, I shall have my

time—I am feeling very well—no trouble in the head, nor any thing, so far—I get along very well in my

I wrote to Han yesterday, (before I received this letter of Heyde's), I wrote a short letter of my own

new ones, I could not find any one to do them as I wear them, & it would have cost such a price—& so my

they were too thick & more still because they were worse gone in than any I ever yet wore I think in my

life, especially the trowsers—wearing my big boots had caused the inside of the legs just above the

same as what I always wear, (pants pretty full,) so upon the whole all looks unusually good for me, my

March 19, 1867 Dearest mother, I got both your letters last week, & they were a relief to my mind—I want

longer—He seemed to be well pleased with his visit, & I am sure it was a great comfort to me— I rather like my

Well, mother, I left my letter awhile, & have been out taking a walk, & now return & finish my letter—It

O'Connor has taken a real liking to him— I hope this will find you relieved of your rheumatism—I send my

Drinkard—he rubs the handles over my leg & thigh, for perhaps twenty minutes—the shock is very perceptible—it

not sure) it is Jule Mason —it is quite interesting—I am going to work for a couple of hours now at my

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

Whitman included this entry among "verbatim extracts from letters home to my mother in Brooklyn, the

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?

Every thing here with me remains the same—I am free from the distress in my head—Mrs.

Grayson is very sick—she sent my old washerwoman, old Aunt Kitty, around this morning to see if I had

any of "that bread my mother used to send me"—I suppose she meant the sweet Dyer bread—I gave her a

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

dear, I feel quite well to-day considering—in good spirits, & free from any pain—I suppose you got my

days, strong & sudden winds, & dust— but it is pleasanter to-day—it is now about ½ past 1—I have had my

Mother, I feel to-day as if I was getting well—(but my leg is so clumsy yet— & my head has to avoid much

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

sun—I have got along pretty well, but it has been awful hot—& continues so, though as I write here by my

I was so warm & snug & my nest was so well feathered; but I have really cut loose & do not expect to

Then I feel sure it tells the meaning better than any of the former editions—My enemies, & those who

I was appointed last Wednesday, my new grade & pay commence on Nov. 1st—I haven't got a letter from home

has gone to New York—he is badly afflicted with sore eyes, & has gone there to see the best oculists— My

Dearest Mother , I am sitting in my room waiting for the doctor—Mother, you are in my mind most of the

what has kept me up, & is bringing me through—I think I am still on the gain, though it is very slow—my

it—& settle up there—he does better there—but he was doing well enough here, & was very comfortable—My

head troubles me to-day, but I am over here at my desk, at office—Mother, if convenient write me a line

About May 17, 1873, Louisa wrote: "my dearly beloved walter thank god i feel better this morning" (The

my dear beloved walter."

"On taking my seat among them, I noticed a curious thumping at intervals that made the floor vibrate

beneath my feet.

I was so absorbed in my own grief that at first I was hardly conscious of it.

quite good spells—but am not feeling well just now—have got over to the office, & am now sitting at my

hear of many cases, some good, some unfavorable— As to myself, I do not lose faith for a moment, in my

—I am feeling better—my head is some easier—Love to you, dear mama, & all— Walt.

nothing new in the office—the same old story—I have rec'd a number of papers from England with notices of my

George is well, & having good times—I see him every day as I have his picture tacked up on the door of my

April 7, 1868, Louisa Van Velsor Whitman said that she was "troubled with the dissinessdizziness in my

already—the grass & trees are beginning to look green—they have made a large flower garden right in front of my

idea for days & days, & of course suffered awfully—One of the watchmen of the Treasury, (formerly a Captain

Walt If Mary & the girls come, you must give them my love, & tell Mary I shall send her a small package

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

I am wearing my overcoat—You see, mother, I am likely to prove a true prophet about Greeley —He is not

by him soothing him, he was wandering all the time, his talk was so affecting it kept the tears in my

partly scornful, or occasionally put a dry remark, which only adds fuel to the flame—I do not feel it in my

find that the deeper they go in with the draft, the more trouble it is likely to make—I have changed my

family, still I feel somewhat uneasy—about Jeff, if any one, as he is more around—I have had it much on my

have no doubt I shall make a few hundred dollars by the lectures I shall certainly commence soon, (for my

hospital missionary purposes & my own, for that purpose) & I could lend that am't to Jeff to pay it

From my own personal observations I think that the newspapers would give one the most perverted kind

I wrote in my last letter that I had met her son Willy in the street, Monday Jan. 7, & he told me she

Well good bye, dear mother—& give my love to George, & Jeff, & Matty, & all. Walt.

. & 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

It is said the government purposes something of this kind—it will throw a good many captains & lieutenants

Mother, you tell him I sent him my love, and Nancy the same, and the dear little boys the same.

I find I have to restrain myself and keep my composure—I succeed pretty well.

Give my best respects to Dr. Ruggles.

3—I have been in my room all day, so far—shall have dinner in ½ an hour, and then down to Armory.

I find them of great use in giving me ideas about my business and they are too cursed costly to buy."

Captain John Mullan (1830–1909), an army engineer, was associated with General Isaac I.

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

beautiful weather again to-day, cool enough, and I feel very well—It is probable that I shall not take my

beef & apple pie—had company to dinner—I have come around to the office to sit in quiet awhile, by my

twelve miles—& boats sailing—I am going up to O'Connors towards 7 o'clock as usual—I am working at my

leisure on my little book —I dont know whether I have spoken of it before—in prose—those pieces in the

ready fixed—so I don't bother with it any more— Monday forenoon Aug 17 —Well, Mother, I will close up my

O'Connor has just paid me a pleasant visit—& I have been eating my lunch of a roast apple & biscuit—I

pain & comparatively comforting, & that it cannot be very long before I shall have the good use of my

downward, partially helpless— but the principal trouble is yet in the head, & so easily getting fatigued— my

whole body feels heavy, & sometimes my hand—Still, I go out a little every day almost—accompanied by

I am sitting here in my room—it is very pleasant out apparently— I generally go out a little between

journey— Mother, it is kind of company to write to you—it is very lonesome to sit here all the evening in my

room—about 9 Charles Eldridge comes in & assists me to soak my feet in hot water, & then I turn in—(

I have my trowsers trousers on this evening, first time in 3 weeks)— Friday noon Feb. 14 Mother, I am

so much want to see you, even if only for a couple of weeks—for I feel I must return here & continue my

I wonder why he didn't send me the Union with my letter in. I am disappointed at not getting it.

I sent Han [a] N Y Times with my last letter, & one to George too.

I thought I was cooler & more used to it, but the sight of some of them brought tears into my eyes—Mother

out with a long rough journey, all dirty & torn, & many pale as ashes, & all bloody—I distributed all my

is what they have eaten with Mat and I"; and again on October 8, 1863: "There is no doubt, Walt, in my

I send my love to Jeff & George & Mat & all. Walt.

Dearest mother, I suppose you got my letter Monday 12th (written Sunday.)

1873, Louisa Van Velsor Whitman explained that her "nervous system is very much out of order . . . 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 . . .

Dearest Mother, I am late with my letter this week—my poor, poor boys occupy my time very much—I go every

Dear brother, I wish you to say to Probasco & all the other young men on the Works, I send them my love

again—I myself do not give up Hooker yet— Dear mother, I should like to hear from Han, poor Han—I send my

Attorney Gen'l , has gone on to Philadelphia with wife & child, to spend three or four days—I like my

new boarding place very well, take it altogether — Mother, I am writing this at my table, by the big

Jeff don't say whether you got my last Tuesday's letter, (March 5,) with the envelopes, &c.

very tired, when I arrived home—We don't have dinner till 5 o'clock—but I always take a good lunch in my

please—then I am getting many books for the Library (our office Library) that I have long wanted to read at my

be careful of yourselves—it is very healthy here this summer—I havn't been troubled by the heat yet—my

have half a dozen—so you see I am coming out—had quite a clearing out the other day, collected all my

duds & socks, & boots & slippers &c &c. into a great heap—and when Sally, our black girl, brought up my

em all off home—there was nothing but what was all give out, though— There is nothing new with me in my

much—I think he would find it pleasant to come here for a few days, even this season—Well, dear mother, my

I have just changed my quarters—I moved to-day back again to the same house Mrs.

Benedict— I have not got my old-room but a room right over it—it is in the attic, it is true, but I think

is, as well as one is apt to like any quarters here in Washington—I will write you how I like it in my

stomach, just in the waist—last Saturday he had an operation & had it extracted—it was in, the length 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

mother dear, I am certainly getting well again—I have made a great improvement the last three days, & my

head feels clear & good nearly all the time—& that, the doctor says, will bring my leg all right in

showers here nights—too much rain indeed—still spring is very fine here, & it looks beautiful from my

windows—I am writing this in my room— I am feeling just now well as usual in my general health—part

just as well as ever—but of course I expect a few set–backs before I get well entirely, & supple in my

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?

It is too bad you don't get my letters Tuesday, as I send them in ample time Monday—they are in the p

the wife's & his kindness to me—but probably it is doubtful if he calls— Mother, I am sitting here by my

& surgery, instead of being racked through the long journey up here—still may come in here—Mother, my

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