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My main point has been, to get it out. It seems a part of the explication of 'Leaves of Grass.'

Yes, I read your paragraph—it is just—I endorse it—it is my view, too.

And I often think I second that—answer it in my own heart."

Give her my dear love —tell her I had it here at my supper—that it was my sweetest morsel—that it was

But when I insisted that it would he added, "Well, you have my warm espousal.

My dear Sir:Dr.

Bucke left me, to my publisher Schabelitz, of Zurich, Switzerland, and offered the MS. to him.

Rolleston accept my assistance and wait so long. Shall I write to him, or will you do it?

Clifford saw my father's picture of W. for the first time at my sister's Sunday—thought it the best he

"My dear daddy used to advise me—my boy always keep on good terms with the cook."

The more sure I am in my faith the less I feel such antagonism—as my faith grows, my irritability wanes

When I tell W. of the value I think belongs with "Good-Bye My Fancy"—that it has music and power—he says

He had my list—over 50—the main body foreign.

I had the first proof of the poems in my pocket—gave to him.

I may not be able to read them before evening—evening is my best time: from eleven to five are my worst

Wishes my father to see them. Shall forward to Bucke.

One of my deep joys is to see my own thought well expressed by another, hence I am grateful to you for

Asked me with a smile, "Did you get my proof?"

And to my yes, went on in a way to show he was nettled that things proceed so slow.

I put your copy in my piece to save trouble." Must look it up.

I shall get another copy as soon as I can get out—being for the moment housed—and shall then eat my cake

My head, my belly, my bladder—all are out of gear, and for what end?"

ScovelI read it to my family last night. My father had traced some hidden sarcasm.

(My own books, poems and prose have been a direct and indirect contribution, or attempt.)

But I was about to say, thank the Professor for me—give him my love.

Now I am sorry—my stomach won't digest it—and there it is!

I find that so much of my food seems to amount to nothing just in that way."

the public in my literary products.And I owe it to him that my heart warms to you, who are helping him

I seek and feel after the bodily presentment of a man who occupies my thought.

On the bed were my proofs (Myrick had not given me any new ones today, but hopes to let me have all poems

W. then, "It is hardly to be dignified as 'work': it is simply a last drop, a leave-taking, my farewell—a

My custom was, in the old days, to listen sharply to the pronunciation, accent of the actors—then to

Yet, "I shall try my second powder first. I took the other the night you brought it.

W. much interested in my letter from Mrs. O'Connor: 112 M St. NWMarch 5, 1891.Dear Mr.

But that again is an evidence in my favor, for these men who grow unconsciously get mad as hyenas to

W. was intensely attracted by my description of a mail car.

Said, "One thing I have always wanted to do—trace the passage of one of my letters to Dr.

I just received the following letter from the Post Office (from Baker): New York, March 7th 1891 My dear

Her mother was my mother's cousin. Never met her before."

I have never forsworn my allegiance to the printers—never.

At any rate," looking directly at me, "take my authorization with you: I authorize you to promise just

Called my attention to the fact that the Long Islander reprinted my Lippincott's piece in full, giving

before I get the piece in my book."

I got a Lippincott, and was a little dismayed to find my rather disparaging remarks quoted, until I noticed

It confirms my own and Williams' idea of the footnote. Mrs.

Proofs were ready—on bed—rolled up, and I put them in my pocket.

husband is a little too sensitive: I see nothing amiss in the footnote—do not mind to have him speak of my

anything—I was only lamenting to myself my own limitations, and wishing that I had something to do with

And laughingly to my insistence that we might try, "Yes, try, but this den does not lend itself that

My evening hours at home have been about as fully occupied with official labors as my days at the Department

Now that Congress, the presence of which always complicates our work, has adjourned, and my office is

gradually approaching a settled condition, I hope soon to be able to redeem my promise.I wish, if it

I have no question but if I could meet him I could wheedle him about my thumb, and you can do it as well

He then, "I am sure it will come about all right: I usually find that my good demon does not nap in an

My dear Mr.

John's Wood, London NW1 March 1891Dear Traubel,You were very prompt in getting my small unreasonableness

The Foreign & Colonial business of the Post Office is my "bread & butter" life as you call it; & this

Give him my love, and believe me to beVery sincerely yoursH.

job)—make the best rough strong job of it, convenient without regard to finish—it is only a dummy for my

on Brown Bros., Philadelphia.Oldach bound up some copies of "Good-Bye" but left the portrait out, at my

Found Longaker sitting there with W., Longaker immediately going on my entrance, having other patients

doubting laugh, "It is always funny—sometimes exhilarating—to me, to be sometimes told after one of my

I had the Lippincott's proof with me, would leave it till eight, to call then to have my own look at

W. contends still, "This is my 73rd, not my 72nd birthday"—meaning that the 72nd anniversary is the 73rd

shoulder (I was working)—that my signature was one of the hardest he knew to imitate.

I can describe it no better than by my old figure—that it seemed as if all the vital insides had fallen

A preliminary cable but does not know when he must sail.W. gives me [notes] for my "memoranda," to be

W. asked, "Did you notice this letter—that it was from my sister's husband at Burlington?"

I ignore him, never recognize him in any way—pity my poor sister—old, sick.

weakness—knowing the spot where I am sore—my love for my sister—ramming his knife in there!

And to my word of gratefulness (from her) for his handkerchief W. said, "No, it is all right—tell her

W. remarked, "Today I received a proof of my little piece—it has gone back tonight.

Much obliged to S. for wanting to cut out my speech (!) & to you for saving it.

s eye: New York, June 21. 91 My dear TraubelCountless congratulations to you and Mrs.

You must give him my very best regards with a "good luck" to boot.For you and your wife I ask for the

"Yes, wrote my name and two or three lines. It is horribly tiresome business."

GilderMy kindest regards—& those of my sister—to W. Whitman.

"My hot-blood days are all gone, now, all gone—it is the evening chill!"

Wondered what my notion was about Moore: "Why do you suppose he wrote you?

Of course, I don't know any more about it than you do, but I give you my guess.

(My own position on these theological disputes ought to be understood—to have no part in them.

And thank God I have room for all—I take up my skirts for no one!)

He laughed, "Pretty good—but not quite my knock."

s letter to them on the 1st: Camden NJ—US AmericaJune 1 '91—Well here I am launched on my 73d year—We

Called my attention to the Review of Reviews—copy sent by Johnston.

Told him of my message to Reeder. "I am glad. I want him to do it.

anticipate me—and so I feel a singular, long-prepared reliance upon you—as if in fact you had become my

—though these formal, conventional weapons, even an inkstand, do not lend themselves to my habits, taste

That was always my impression: buoyant, light, loving."

As to the farewell reception to Clifford at Germantown this evening: "Give him my love, respect, admiration

Saturday, June 27, 1891A couple of postals from Reeder acquiescing in my plan.

That would be my plan. I have been talking with Horace about it."

Had I my legs as once, it wouldn't be but a little skip for me.

piece off, "I want you to take it—I think Mary Davis makes the best bread ever was—the best: it is my

chief dependence, pride, nowadays, when I have to be so careful what I do with my belly!"

Glad he approves idea of a little piece from Clifford.W. called my attention to "a couple of waifs—letters

My sympathies are all on the forward line—with the radical—but any close study of methods is out of the

W. reports again, "This has been a horribly poor day, one of my worst—even now I am little if any better

Take them—take them with my love." Warrie quite determined to go to New York to meet Bucke.

I saw myself in it—my idea. I am not afraid but you go straight to my intention in such reports."

Walt," he said, "I want to get something from you for my next issue.

And my friend, in telling me the story, said he saw his mistake at once, but Whitman never noticed it

Strange how—the room very dark—he knew me at once, called my name, extended his hand.

My note about Trumbull, with a reply from Trumbull, in Open Court. I left paper with W.

He facsimile'ed it for the Review without my knowledge—not asking if I approved, though it was done out

my voice is all nature, pure, true—and whose teacher told her at the very start—do you know, my girl,

My advice about that fellow would be, to let him alone—let him severely alone.

And again, "My charge would be—drop him—he is not worth a word."

W. said, "I shall write Doctor—send my letter over by Warrie (Warrie will undoubtedly go—undoubtedly)

I usually make my address as full as I know.

That is queer—it is one of my favorite stories—one of the very richest I know.

The failure to rhyme, I mean, for the poem itself—"O Captain! my Captain!"

But to read my own pieces!

W. greatly amused at my story of getting the Doctor's glasses.

I took off my hat—sat there unperturbed.

W. said, "I have had several visitors here today—one of them causing one of the funniest things in my

At any rate I did not see him—sent my excuses down by Mary.

He came straight over here to where I sat—my hands extended—shook hands with me, looked about the room

Good-bye My Fancy cover-page Anne Montgomerie Traubel.Horace L.

Traubel,First, my congratulations on your marriage.

Merry over my face, lost almost in the trees on the hill.

Asked me—pointing to table, "Did you see my lilies? Exquisite, eh?

—and with my love." Meanwhile taking them out himself."

What an idea, that about my reciting, reading, declaring my own poems!

I enjoy criticisms of my work even if I do not feel to justify them.

It was sent along with the birthday copy of my "Notes".

I stopped at 509 Arch on my way down to ferry and enclosed J.'s letter in another of my own to W.

written Johnston that Wallace must stay with me—this is to be told him immediately he knows he is to come—my

its author, at all points of its meaning—so that things perhaps plain to Doctor are not so plain to my

reading it over lately, and it occurs to me that I might have been raspy—raspy—in the assertion of my

Showed her two letters to W.: "It does my heart good to see her hand again."

I made up my mind from the first that at a time when all literature was sickly with plaints, moan, sillinesses

"Here are my lots—I like these—I'll come out some day and buy half a dozen."

following letter: Your letter to Walt Whitman, which he has shown to me, has raised this question in my

mind, whether my inference be true, that you will expunge the paragraph or paragraphs referred to rather

evening—from Baltimore sooner than expected.W. still reading the Lincoln matter, saying, "I adhere to my

it comes close to my old walks, long, long ago—brings the whole thing back to me. Oh!

I am now pretty near the end of my own history, but mark what I have said—it is the gospel of our democracy—the

JohnstonWe have told Wallace of the proposal mentioned in my last letter to you but he says No to it!

W.: "I can realize that abstractly without connecting it with my own person. Yes, I see it."

My business is to be—the rest will come as a matter of course, a necessary incident!"

W. continued on the bed throughout my stay. Tuesday, July 14, 1891

Of course, I don't know how I look—yet as I know myself, if I know myself, my head don't set so on my

Tis midnight now; my lonely gateI open to no stranger's knock."Who art thou? Speak!"

My names are Song, Love, Art.My poet, now unbar the door.""

Art's dead, Song cannot touch my heart,My once Love's name I chant no more.""

Too late—my youth you still withhold.""

Stoddart deducted $10 from my payment ($60) to pay for our copies of magazine.

the patchwork of paper was this, evidently a dismissed alternate for "Good-Bye" title-page: "GoodBye My

"It is a struggle—has been a damnable day—horrible—one of my worst." Looked bad.

W. then, "But I don't feel well—feel the worst—my damnablest."

When Horace showed me his make from the notes, I drew my blue pencil through it, by way of suggestion

Morris exclaims, "My! How I have enjoyed all this!

Give Nellie my dear love. Tell her about me." Morris had put this in today's Bulletin.

—where we had tea—my brother Lothario (in Government printing office) stopping in while we sat eating

(I engaged with my brother to meet me early tomorrow: we would walk together.)Mrs.

He admitted he had been a little twitted by my letter (the first), but I readily made that easy.

(W. says, "That is right: that fixes me right in my average personality.")

And my trip profited, with respect to the task I am to set about and a better acquaintanceship with her

Again, "In my days the Washington monument was not yet completed—had not put its cap on.

That was a necessary part of my career." Mrs. O'Connor tells me of W.'

W. declared, "William was what I said in my little piece, a shield for the oppressed—a knight of chivalric

But again I came back to my early notion, whether it was not as well for men to observe the dial of the

Then, "I do not suppose there is any great mystery about my condition.

hide from a doctor)—that even now, as I sit here—and from only the little talk with you two fellows—my

I perhaps give only vague expression to my idea, but it is quite clear in my own mind.

I have my differences, he has his, but we agree in the main, which is enough."

B. was always my friend—that his allusions were always kind—that he quoted 'Leaves of Grass' without

Hotel Caranne153, Boulevard Saint-Germain, Paris 11 July, 1891 Reached Paris, exceedingly tired, but my

Send me papers and works: my permanent address is my uncle's, in the country, as follows: M.

"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.

Again, "This Dudley—all this settlement—is new since the days I came out in my own rig."

"glad" for my suggestion that the head seemed hunched on the shoulders.