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My alarm was instant.

He held my hand warmly and firmly.

I may dance my last dance any day now.

He took my hand—held it saying: I feel more and more my dependence upon you—I feel more and more that

I questioned him sharply today and that is my impression."

Upon my arrival at my destination, (at which it was probable I should have to stay the better part of

I don't know whether I have intimated, in the preceeding course of my narrative, that my nature was not

My safety, hitherto, had been from the swiftness with which my passion passed over.

delusion to smile at my own folly.

I shortly made no secret of my attachment to Mrs. Conway.

I am keen about all that myself—jealous of my right to fall down and break my neck if I choose."

He called my attention to the medallions, duly signed, tied up, with a label on the outside designating

them as my property.

I could not tell how to get it, but I can recognize my own when it appears."

My quarrel with the most of what purports to be history is that it is not history at all.

"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.

I remember I said to myself at the winter-close, before my leaves sprang at all, that I would become

a candid and unloosed summer-poet, I said I would raise my voice jocund and strong, with reference to

what was promised, When each part is peopled with free people, When there is no city on earth to lead my

I have pressed through in my own right, I have offered my style to every one—I have jour- neyed journeyed

Remember my words—I love you—I depart from materials, I am as one disembodied, triumphant, dead.

could not or would not understand their deeper meaning, nor recognize their subtler beautiesRepeating my

I send papers to friends and friends of my friends—often to people I have never met.

Detailed the incident: "It was my old Alabama admirer, who came up here several years ago—was talked

My old friend did not cease his admiration, so far as I know.

Referring to use of words, W. remarked: "In my abolition days, some of my friends were furious at my

My beloved Walt—I have read the sublime poem of the Universal once and again, and yet again—seeing it

It raised my mind to its own sublimity. It seems to me the sublimest of all your poems.

Now I would like to see you, in order to temper my heart, and expand my narrowness.How absurd it is to

The note is below:"Go on, my dear Americans, whip your horses to the utmost—Excitement; money!

He put four of them in a paper bag and gave them to me for my mother.

Thanks to you both.I had planned to have some leisure at my command to write you a fairly long letter

at Johnston's—sitting up with him till after 1, both loathe to separate.I read the College some of my

of & gratitude for all your kindness by my cold, undemonstrative passiveness—"the cold silent manner

you both love & blessing.All the time I was in Camden I felt it all too deeply—beyond my capacity to

wil gradually take its due place & proportion & perspective in my mind.

I have been busy with my pen, turning out pot-boilers, nothing else.

My opinion is that life is becoming pretty thin.

It will be my last volume—my finale—without a doubt.

So this will really be my good-bye!" Then into details.

My first point will be to get all the batch of copy—the poetry—into galleys at once: it probably would

withdraw from the still woods I loved, I will not go now on the pastures to walk, I will not strip my

clothes from my body to meet my lover the sea, I will not touch my flesh to the earth, as to other flesh

I do not see any of it upon you today—or per- haps perhaps I am deceived, I will run a furrow with my

plough—I will press my spade through the sod, and turn it up underneath, I am sure I shall expose some

That it is safe to allow it to lick my naked body all over with its tongues!

March 26 1874 Thursday afternoon 2½ —I have just had my dinner—roast beef, lima beans, graham-bread &

Pete your short letter came to-day, written on the cars—dear son, come whenever you can—As I said on my

My little dog is stretched out on the rug at full length, snoozing.

He hardly lets me go a step without being close at my heels—follows me in my slow walks, & stops or turns

Pleasant & bright weather—have been out on the side walk in front, once or twice, with my shawl around

The second copy of book & my lending one, has come safe—too—and the card that told of your attack of

illness, & the welcome news of your recovery in the Paper; & I have been fretting with impatience at my

own dumbness—but tied to as many hours a day writing as I could possibly manage, at my little book now

(last night)—finished, all but proofs, so that I can take my pleasure in "Specimen Days" at last; but

My love to brother & sister & to Hattie [&] Jessie. Good-bye, dear Walt.

weaks weeks ago last summer I was in brooklyn & I hunted for you but could not find you I mad made up my

is night now & I was agoing to the villiage tomorrow So I thought I would write A few lines to you my

halth health is good & so is my family I have got three boys & one girl the way that I came to be in

me this spring I ame am owing some debts that I no whether I can pay them or not this spring one of my

stock youre your letters was directed rite right the two firts first years of my mairage marriage my

My friends!

I did put it into my pocket.

Accept my thanks.

"You've said it for me: that's the substance of my philosophy.

My p. o. address remains the same. I am quite well and hearty.

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

My dear Sir, When a man has ventured to dedicate his work to another without authority or permission,

This must be my excuse for sending to you the crude poem in wh. which you may perchance detect some echo

Grass in a friend's rooms at Trinity College Cambridge six years ago till now, your poems have been my

What one man can do by communicating to those he loves the treasure he has found, I have done among my

I fear greatly I have marred the purity & beauty of your thought by my bad singing.

York Saturday July 6 p m Dear son I supposed you rec'd a paper from me lately with an acc't of some of my

this forenoon to Sarony's, the great photographic establishment, where I was invited to come & sit for my

picture—had a real pleasant time—I will bring you on one of the pictures— My darling boy, I want to

Bethel had confessed to poisoning the Bishops—I will finish my letter & send it off to-morrow— Sunday

10th street,) is a fine, good bright child, not very rugged, but gets along very well—I take him in my

eye-works have resumed operations pretty nearly same as before—I see out of both now & a great blessing in my

getting along comfortably—the weather has been bad as can be & the traveling ditto, for three weeks past, my

last half-annual return of royalties for both my books just —$20.71cts —the death of Mrs.

she had the finest & perfectest nature I ever met—Glad to hear ab't about the Channing's —Give them my

love—I am scribbling in my little front room down stairs—the parrot has been squalling & the canary

Dear Brother, I have just finished a letter to mother, and while my hand is in, I will write you a line

I enclose in my letter to Mother, a note from Hyde —nothing at all in it, except that Han is well, and

, it seems to me, like relieving me of a great weight—or removing a great obstacle that has been in my

go-ahead fellows, and don't seem to have the least doubt they are bound to make a good spec. out of my

I am very well, and hold my own about as usual.

7 196 My touch hand will not hurt what it holds, and yet will devour it, That It must remain whole perfect

Only one minute, only two or three passing bulging sheathed touches, Yet they gather all of me and my

spirit into a knot, They hold us so long enough there, to show us what life we can be,— And that my

senses and our flesh, and even a part of flesh, is seems more than all life.— What has become of my senses

My hand will not hurt

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.

Dear friend, Breaking up a few weeks since, and for good, my New York stagnation—wandering since through

camp and battle scenes—I fetch up here in harsh and superb plight—wretchedly poor, excellent well, (my

matters,)—realizing at last that it is necessary for me to fall for the time in the wise old way, to push my

wish you would write for me something like the enclosed form of letter, that I can present, opening my

It is pretty certain that, armed in that way, I shall conquer my object.

My dear Hiram Ramsdell: Mr.

—In respect to Judge Kelly, & his matter, I had already formed my opinion & made out my Report several

I hope it may happen one day that I may have him near at hand, that we get to be friends—such is in my

—There is nothing new in my affrairs—all goes on as usual in the office. I am well.

passed, & that I shall be better in a day or two—I feel so today already—& soon about as usual— No my

I wish dear Alys would take This side the earliest convenient opportunity to give my excuses & love to

very lonesome here—If I had not been born with a happy-tending natural disposition (I inherit it from my

heaviness to me—As it is, the ennuyeed hours have been the rare exceptions— Then about the shows of life & my

strong, with weightiest animality & appetites, or I should go off in a balloon—Well luckily for you my

My Dear Walt, As you see by my address I am staying with a great friend of yours.

I posted a copy of my book to you about a week ago: I hope that you will read it and tell me how you

As yet, I have not taken my passage, but I hope to come early in May, and to spend a nice slice of my

Wilson of Glasgow, encouraging me to go on & get subscribers for my "Walt Whitman,"— saying that I may

you be willing (I hardly dare to ask it) to send me for two yr book of addresses (sent by Express at my

(I keep up my bibliogr. record always (in the "Whitman")] I made a trip to the art museum recently to

Baxter has gone to Arizona, & left bust in my care.

Kennedy My idea is to charge $5. or a guinea for the vol. & print it in good style.

lost] yesterday and was glad to heer from yo and yo were en Joying good helth as for me i am not well my

very slow the warm wether chafed me all to peces and now with all the rest i have got a large boil on my

left knee my famly is well my little girl has ben quite sick but is well agen— the wether has ben very

and came horn and kep hid 3 weeks thare is 30 dollars reward on him i think they had or to hang him my

Dear friend Walt Not knowing what they were agoing to do with me until thursday last is my excuse for

Thursday I expected my dischar[g]e so that I could start Friday but on going to the office I found that

knew that they had gone up and when the truth was known he knew nothing about it thursday afternoon my

papers wer sent in to the ward for me to go before Bliss he examined me and told me I could have my

Sutler's and back (Walt it is useless for me to try to tell you how much i have missed you at night when my

Dear brother, You did not write any answer to my last two letters, now quite a while ago, still I will

I still remain here in Washington, finding just about work enough to pay my expenses.

he has returned from his furlough, he told me a few days ago he had written to you, & had sent you my

best respects—I told him he must never send my respects to you but always my love.

My dear friend, My book has been delayed among the printers,—but I shall stay till it is all printed—it

fellows & willing enough—but it seems impossible to prevent them making lots of ridiculous errors—it is my

My mother is pretty well for an old woman of 72—John, I hope this will find you, & the wife too in good

I send you both my love.

Liptay Care of Otto Behrens 140 Eighth avenue New York City I wrote to Nelly about a week ago, stating my

day—rather a curious fellow—a great bully, vehement, loud words & plenty of them (the very reverse of my

valued Dr Drinkard)—& yet I value what he says & does for me—He is inclined to think the seat of all my

been out, except just in front of the house in the sun, & only three times that—but don't be alarmed, my

dear friend—the probabilities are, (in my opinion any how,) that I shall get partially well yet— The

My dear Mr.

With regard to re-printing my book in full in England I can only say that of course it would be gratifying

copyright might be legalized here—If so, this might be worth considering in reference to the reprint of my

February or March, I am not certain which, I understand it has a criticism on my book, from a believer

My address is Solicitor's Office, Treasury, Washington, D. C.—U.S.A.

when I visited the Asylum and they showed me their most smeared and slobbering idiot, Yet I knew for my

for my consolation, of the great laws that emptied and broke my my brother s Whitman probably drafted

AS TOILSOME I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves, kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering; Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

the unknown soldier's grave—comes the inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

WANDERING at morn, Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee

Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust

its young, The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic, Fail not to certify and cheer my

If vermin so transposed, so used and bless'd may be, Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my

AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

WANDERING at morn, Emerging from the night from gloomy thoughts, thee in my thoughts, Yearning for thee

Thee coil'd in evil times my country, with craft and black dismay, with every meanness, treason thrust

its young, The singing thrush whose tones of joy and faith ecstatic, Fail not to certify and cheer my

If vermin so transposed, so used and bless'd may be, Then may I trust in you, your fortunes, days, my

AS toilsome I wander'd Virginia's woods, To the music of rustling leaves kick'd by my feet, (for 'twas

this sign left, On a tablet scrawl'd and nail'd on the tree by the grave, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Long, long I muse, then on my way go wandering, Many a changeful season to follow, and many a scene of

soldier's grave, comes the inscrip- tion inscription rude in Virginia's woods, Bold, cautious, true, and my

Camden New Jersey June 8 '76 My dear Ward, I have rec'd your friendly & generous subscription, $50, for

5 sets of my Books, & thank you heartily.

Grass —with some other little Vols—slips, duplicate engravings of self—& a special Photo. prepared by my

for your studio) As the very limited first issue of my new edition is about to be exhausted, your other

/ Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sun-light expands my blood?

/ Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?

blood—that if I walk with an arm of theirs around my neck, my soul leaps and laughs like a new-waked

—(Am I loved by them boundlessly because my love for them is more boundless?

truth, my sympathy, and my dignity.

As far as my life goes it is written in the past.

For years it was my wish to live long enough to round out my life's story in my little book, 'The Leaves

I continue my work reading or writing to my friends."

as I tried to put it in my books.

It is only the closest student would find it in my works.

He looked at me and seemed to see some distrust in my face. "You think I am condemning Lathrop?

I love him—honor him: if there's anything comes short it excites my regret: I judge no one."

My dear Mr. Burroughs,I have just finished your book on Birds and Poets.

accumulating thunder in my own way.

I get my hands loose now and then, and feel that I have done a little something.

Was perfectly satisfied with my arrangement of it.

revelation—brought me conviction of many stray thoughts, observations—was in itself confirmation of my

the Post—was coming upon my close—reserving for the end my sally, my big guns—as the Irish carter, who

It sat down without mercy on my Irishman's spirit.

When I told him my trouble in doing this—"Well—it was well done at last, which is the important point

Dear Friend I was to tell you about my acquaintanceship with Tennyson, which was a pleasant episode in

my life at Haslemere Hearing of the extreme beauty of the scenery thereabouts & specially of its comparative

It is pleasant to see T. with children—little girls at least—he does not take to boys—but one of my girls

nor understand the full meaning of your own words—"whoso touches this, touches a man" —"I have put my

My love, flowing ever fresh & fresh out of my heart, will go with you in all your wanderings, dear Friend

morning, & was welcome, as any thing from you will always be, & the sight of your face welcomer than all, my

Lew, as to me & my affairs there is nothing very new or important—I have not succeeded in getting any

expenses—but it is my own fault, for I have not tried hard enough for any thing—the last three weeks

I have not felt very well—for two or three days I was down sick, for the first time in my life, (as

It is now about 3 o'clock, & I will go out & mail this letter, & then go & get my dinner—So good bye,

Mr Walt Whitman, Dear Sir, For the first time in my life I heard of you last winter, and your wonderful

That was my first acquaintance with you. It was also a revalation revelation .

That is all of yours I have ever read, just enough to whet my appetite.

I want it badly but had spent all my spare change before I knew I wanted it.

it round like a barrel, as it were, the poetry was all choked out and it fell flat and insipid from my

My dear Friend Your kind letter came to hand yesterday.

I never think of you but it makes my heart glad to think that I have bin permited to know one so good

I have got my leg but I think that I will never be able to walk much on it as my stump is so short but

if I cant I can go on my crutches for they appear to be a part of myself for I have bin on them so long

I have not succeeded in getting a position in any of the Depts yet thoug my M.C. tried quite hard Gov

"My head is behaving itself right decently just now. But it's funny, how unambitious my body is.

My fatal procrastination has tripped me up at last.

"My notes are very accurate.

"I want no club founded in my name."

The effect upon me was slow, though one of the surgeons there finally called my attention to my own peril

Add- ing, after looking in my face: "Don't feel bad about it—I don't."

They may be wrong in what they say of my book but they are not wrong in their love: love is never wrong

So I wonder over Kennedy—do not quite get him adjusted in my perspective.

I get to look for Bucke as I look for my breakfast." While we were talking Harned came in.

As I left W. held my hand for a long time (his hand was very warm) and said: "What I say of my head does

I did not attempt to show him my letters.

It is impossible to say why I have not done so—pardon my procrastination, which, with regard to my private

correspondence, I am afraid is one of my sins.

Here at my work I am delighted. I like my work—I am partly on the Ledgers & partly at the Counters.

I intend giving our Clarke permission to quote from my Notes but my feeling in regard to the letter is