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In other respects he conceded my corrections.

I at once wrote, discountenancing the whole thing, in the strongest English the language and my command

It is a part of our blood—my brother George—others of our best friends—alive, resenting it.

And this, taken with my natural disgust, easily disposed of the question for me.

And to my negative, "He is a good fellow—very friendly to me—I have met him—talked, walked with him—an

Gave me a copy of Black and White for my father.

It is one of the despairs of my life—to listen, to lose! I shall never recover from the disaster!

a loose story—if it have wit, if it pass for a good purpose—illustrate, illumine—but otherwise all my

my dear mother!" What a touch that, in indirection and tone!

In this connection called my attention to the following in today's Press: "Chief Brown, of Pittsburg's

And to my affirmative (entered in with explanations, etc.), "Well, try for it—see somebody at once about

Asked me if I had given my father Black and White? "I thought it a strong array of pictures.

Williams in to see me about birthday—anxious lest it might be passed over, but agreeable in face of my

O'Donovan spoke of my New England Magazine article. Had he seen the Lippincott's article?

of its mass yet also of its thinness (for it is quite thin now)—Eakins interposed, "That was one of my

At one moment he leaned impulsively forward, "Do you know, dear, you remind me of my dear dear friend

And they are evils, too—I know it—but like evils, prove the good—just as I said to my doctor yesterday

"I took nearly all that one bottle—it was good—yet it seemed to affect my bladder and I thought it best

My inquiries in Philadelphia had developed that it would be impossible for me to go to any public place

Speaking of "Leaves of Grass" he said, "My 'Leaves' mean, that in the end reason, the individual, should

"But, Horace, the seriosity, gravity, of my case—we are not to forget—we may easily lose sight of it.

Indeed—that is my great triumph, stand-by, these days."

Says, "I continue to read my own book with the greatest admiration"—the press-work and paper so good

Told W. of it now, W. saying, "He was one of my earliest friends—a true one, too—a sweet attractive fellow—gemmie—I

And to my assent he added, "It was this: nature, nature, again nature.

With W. for full half an hour, though I was on my way to Philadelphia and intended to stay only a few

"I was just about to get up—go to my chair"—doing so now (the cane always on the bed beside him).

My idea was—"make yourself whole and have the plates as profit." To this he assented.

He did not awake on my silent entrance.

Though W. was on his bed, he was not asleep—got up instantly on my entrance, and after he had shaken

But I have not half examined it yet and must put off for another letter my dicta upon it.I am well but

Buxton Forman And W. volunteered his Forman note, which had to do with the dinner, and was in reply to my

"Just now it is my main labor simply to hold my head up. As for moving? No! No!"

I reached forth my hand and literally, by a great effort, lifted him. What was new?

Yes, it is audacious—that's my word—and I have a curious story to tell you about that.

She was the screamer, moaner, who had alarmed me on my entrance some days ago and of whom Mrs.

—exactly my word!" Further, "This is an artist's picture—an artist's picture in the best sense.

My name has no place there—it is not my book—I have nothing to do with it.

W. was not asleep—at once accosted me on my entrance—reached forth his hand—seemed indeed bright in speech

But my confidence and laughter finally got him laughing too.

Which is what my dear parents used to say of our friends, to close criticism.

Perhaps the handle to my name has been against me in America!

It has always been my idea that my proper works are of three periods: 'Leaves of Grass' in one volume

He was struck with it, "I carry the notion favorably in my eye."

Seemed satisfied with my views.

Leaves things in my hands.

of a fortnight ago—brief, beautiful—addressed "Harringford, Freshwater, Isle of Wight" and reading: My

Miss Porter and Miss Clarke promptly acquiesce in my invitation, the former writing me.

My letter to Hay comes back from someone in Cleveland with his London address added; too late to reach

my big tree.

I am sure I shall want to do if I ever reach my 72d.

Give him my love.

As to his health, "I am by no means gaining—I seem to stick in my low estate—no lift any way."

services to your country & to humanity—in your book (just completed) and in your life:—greater, in my

photos. & saw my name in the article.

your achievement & welcome your good work to these shores.In a letter acknowledging the receipt of my

s on my way home. Left him North American Review containing Bob's article, "Is Vice Triumphant?"

He could not come up to my father's house. Could we all come to him?

I must take care"—whispering—"that my shirt tail don't hang out."

father's, the ultimate for my mother, and I am to be between."

And I am Consuelo—determined to keep my head up, whatever betide."

I wish I could be with you in person, but my spirit must do instead.Please convey my affectionate greetings

My particular congratulations to you on your marriage.

I kept pegging away at my work—writing, reading, getting ready for the dinner. To W.'

And shortly down he came, Warren leading him, I ahead—he taking my hand from time to time.

Black (short-hander) who took my cues from time to time—eating meanwhile—his book on his knee, unseen

(Just before coming down W. said, "Have my glass filled, Horace—do not delay.

Longaker said, "I will make my little speech to you tomorrow."

Williams'), but quickly read at my suggestion. How did he feel?

Once in my boyhood I saw his noble form and kindly face, but never have I grasped his democratic hand

from Concord, your letter reached me in Chicago, where I have been for a week awaiting the wedding of my

Give my earnest love to Walt Whitman on this memorial occasion, and tell him we think of him at Concord

I might, by setting every thing else at defiance, transport my body to the place of assembly, but by

I met my young guide at whirlpool again, the Tweed Coast man.

Many curious incidents in my wanderings among patients.

Except for the Whitman portions pretty dry—not well put and kept together—but enheightens my respect

This throws my work over far into next week. Not a word from W.—can there be a turn for the bad?

everywhere his own atmosphere of freedom, spontaneity, love—a great exhibit.Wrote both Warren and W. of my

anada] as agreed—all right—June 8 just past noon—So-soish to-day—have eaten a small mutton chop for my

By the way have you seen Ed and how is he getting along give him my regards if you see him.

—some of them in a wrapper improvised from the envelope of one of my letters.

Reached Camden 8:15, and after breakfast and a bath, and examining my mail, down to W.'s.

Among various letters come since my going away was this: Elmwood, Cambridge1st June, 1891Dear Sir,I very

greatly regret that, owing to an accident, your letter, though it reached my house, did not reach me

I should have been glad to add my felicitations & good wishes to yours had it been possible.Faithfully

I shall put it in my report as a footnote. W. advised simply, "Do as you will."

And to my "yes"—"Well, what was the result?"

Again, "I wonder if Stoddart will let me have another proof-slip of my piece?"

"I don't know why the devil he copied it—my copy was as plain—at least to me."

To my "yes"—"Well, I will see—will look it up overnight."

I wonder if he got my note?" Stoddart had told me of it.No copies "Good-Bye" in covers yet.

I still said "yes"—adding—"The day I get it I will leave it on my way home and call later for it again

And, "I want a proof of my little piece, too—should have it. Can you tell Stoddart?"

Wallace writes me June 5th [requesting copies of "Good-Bye My Fancy"].

was curious—I jumped all bounds—probably the more for feeling that the fellows had come, in a way, to my

New England Magazine piece), "I think I will get you to set out at greater length—more definitively—my

It is a thing which ought to be plainly said—which my books do not make naked, plain—which perhaps I

He told this once to Bucke (substantially) in my presence.

This time voice, all, strong, pictorial, eloquent.I told W. it was my mother's birthday. "Oh!

"It is a trifle," he said, "but trifles are indicative: tell her that my heart goes with it."

I had under my arm a big bundle of Saturday's Posts just got from Bonsall.

to send copies to Burroughs, Kennedy, and one or two others, asking me for four for his own use—"for my

However, I showed him my yesterday's letter from Baker, which he read, looked at, grew pathetic over.

For my own Saturday's notes W. could say, "I liked them—they were successfully joined.

My same complaint, my same reason!" This interested W. "Poor Baker, gone under by the same current.

W. seems in excellent condition, to judge from appearances, though he avers, "My color misreports me.

For instance, I doze—that has lately been my recourse—not to sleep, no—to doze—to lay on my back.

by his determination that I should discuss with him the other literary fellows— cèlébres—deliver him my

Johnston & Co.17 Union Square, New YorkAug. 4 1891Dear TraubelI enclose my check for $5.00.Isn't it terrible

I went to Leadville in '79, carried $38,000 worth diamonds and left my revolver in the hands of the makers

My only feeling in the matter is one of intense curiosity.

Give my love to Horace and say to him that I will write him soon.

My trip is agreeing with me and I am as well and hearty as possible.Best love to youR. M.

It would only add to my cares.

any injustice—though Dave is quite in my hands now, if I choose to crush him.

Left article with Bonsall on my way to Philadelphia.

He explained, "It is my intention to have them all bound up—to have them brought here.

For one thing, it is too trifling; for another, it is against my habit, my confirmed determinations.

, only of such as came into my mind at the moment.

They must go as they came—my hand, word, knowing nothing of birth or death.

"They are poems—that is one of my purposes: to show the universal beat of the poetic.

How clearly I remember my anxiety—to get terms straight, to express the technicality of the trade, then

W. protests, "I am very weak—seem to lose my ambition.

On his bed "often and often," for "it is my only thorough relief."

"able to do but little," he said, "to sit, to think, to doze—that is about the start and finish of my

To my return that "the doctor seems to expect his recovery," he said, "Good! Good!

Meter matters take a lot of my time and all looks well in that direction tho' I doubt much whether I

shall accomplish any thing very definite during my present stay here.

Give 'em my realest, substantiallest, thanks.

Good-By my Fancy Walt Whitman (David McKay, Philadelphia).

And, Horace, I have really eaten very little—a dish of peaches for my breakfast, for dinner, peaches!

I have been fortunate in many of my friends, Horace.

treat them decently—but, you know, I'm head and ears in work and I'm going to get you to take them off my

paper out of his pocket—he always carried it—and indicate by a few deft lines, which of course excited my

He long, long wandered out of my ken. And there were others, too—Tilden, for one. O yes!

Only yesterday, Doctor, my friend Sylvester Baxter, of the Boston Herald, was in here to know if I would

But, Horace, I am afraid my back is turned for good." Thursday, August 13, 1891

My book claims no merit save that of sincerity.

way of hearty appreciation of the new thought it might have gone much further and still come within my

Give Walt my love & remembrances. I trust your marriage will bring you much happiness.

Give my love to the wife.

It would not have been my explication—no, not at all.

Therein: "Walt Whitman's note on his new book, 'Good-Bye My Fancy,' though it but fills half a page,

You know its history—that it came into my mind to write when I understood from you that Joe intended

He wanted my name over it. He is an inveigling cuss, anyhow—so good, too.

My main complaint of it is, that it is vague, misty, that it effects no end—hits nothing, so far as I

Whitman's Tribute to Lowell — The Good Gray Poet Speaks Feelingly of the Dead Poet's Fame": Let me send my

Majestic)—we shall all feel that we are receiving an old & dear friend.I have not seen Wallace since my

Thereupon exhibited him my Johnston letter of 8th. W. said, "Good! the leaves are there!"

"The fellow always warms my heart. Will he come?

Indeed, there was our difference, besides my admiration—though no serious difference either.

I can look ahead—see the whole transaction laid out before my mind.

My greatest interest now is to know how Doctor fared with Tennyson.

He then, "That was right—I do wish it as kept—it is my final request.

All my close friends have taken a lick at this chronological business—Mrs.

I put in, "One of my arguments was, I don't know any reason why an epilogue should come at the head of

living here) who had brought a request from someone in Bridgeport, Conn. that W. should transcribe "My

Captain" for hanging in a lodge room there.

W. much amused at my detailing my letter to Woodbury, so far gone unanswered. W. exclaimed, "Pain!

nut-brown girl—an English girl—right off the prairies" who "came here the other day—bought some of my

But I could not see her—it was one of my bad days. She was quite young, a mere girl.