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But as time wore on, while my curiosity remained, its direction changed somewhat.

I have gone right on—my bent has remained my bent,—everything remained as it would have remained otherwise

I have for a couple of days been trying to get my hand down to the work of jotting my impressions—my

I don't know what will come of it—how well the memories will revive and my pencil stay them.

"On my trip out today, I stopped and left a copy of the leather book for Sam Grey.

But however, my view will be extreme.

The show of autobiography everywhere in my work."

But it is my vein, and I must flow in it. All my work is set on the same plane—no other.

" (from the Independent) and his comment upon W. was this:In some cases, as in Whitman's O Captain, My

They are not in my line—my habit, anyway." Tuesday, November 11, 1890

I thought to send him a copy of my last book."

I want you to send him my love for that letter when you write."

And, "I wish I could go with you: it would stretch my old legs!"

I live my days through here—get nowhere (to the washroom, nowhere else).

And when I spoke of dreamless nights my own, W. exclaimed, "How grand! It is a report, the best!

I shall never know, of course: I know no language but my own.

My whole—not exactly that: my best—knowledge of Hugo was derived from that man."

My father was Walter. He had a right to Walter.

My sister had sent W. some cakes.

All my feeling is against it. My feeling decides the day."

"If I could get out, this thing would better adjust itself—but my getting out is wholly uncertain."

I know, Tom, you are able to set that into order without my help."

He was not unmindful of the good-feeling intended—"only, I am an invalid—all knocked up—careful of my

As to photos mounted—he came nearer my own fears. "This card will never get out straight.

I wish he had followed my own hints on this point—chosen a board more like that I sent him.

I shall have my Waterloo, no doubt soon, but till then?"

—As to having Bush and others who have never met him come to the dinner—"If I were asked my own preference

, I should say, no—I'd rather they did not come: I do not like to make my first appearance in such condition

But the Century folks treat me well—very well; I find they humor all my eccentricities."

Joking about my increased salary: "You must look out—you will be in danger of growing rich: riches are

Myrick set up at my insistence alternative title-pages.

Fairchild writes me as follows: May 4 My dear Mr.

Pray give my love and a goodby to W. W.

"My benison attend her! How always nobly good she is to us! A rare woman, every way."

(the only one I can lay my hands on at present) taken some time ago by Johnston in my little room in

W. said: "My brother Jeff, from St.

My dear mother had every general faith in me; that is where she stopped.

Expect to stay in the neighborhood another week, when I shall shift my diggings as my bedroom window

My feeling about him is not condemnatory—only indifferent." I told W.

This is not the general view: it is my view.

W. said: "No—I think not: it was a letter full of good feeling—containing a remembrance of my birthday

And he added afterwards: "It was a letter that went straight to my heart," pausing and continuing waggishly

this of my father is much the best. Did you know about Henry Inman?

He thought also: "It will all be toned down with the thought that I am old—that it is my 70th year!"

He has been here half a dozen times—knows my friends, atmosphere, entourage, (or should) and a thousand

Sloan probably plead[ed] very hard to see me, and Mary no doubt was quite decisive as to my condition

sign to place it any more, yet for me it lasts, will last, as one of the most emphatic memories of my

W. laughed in great humor, then: "Nowadays, when Mary brings me up my chop, she will say—'I remember

I know what it is—know it well: most of my years were passed in some sort of contest with it.

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.

Well, I am holding myself under restraint: as they say out West, I 'hold my horses': perhaps that best

I was in early life very bigoted in my anti-slavery, anti-capital-punishment and so on, so on, but I

But I recognize that nothing can be done without it—therefore I pay my way right through, preferring

to have it understood so at the start—being rather averse to arranging for my books on any other terms

after my reply adding: "I guessed right, anyway. Offer him the one fifty spot cash.

"Parisian Street Life" was the piece by Miss Larned which he had marked for my sister.

He would indeed like to read "Underground Russia," which I named as among my books.

this correspondent (Harriot Stanton Blatch: London, May 9), had said to her: "Ah, here's another of my

s book.W. called my attention to the fact that Stoddard "has been essaying again"—and commented: "It

But afterwards he more or less acquiesced in my explanation.

"We have been out to see my lot.

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

W. again: "Stedman thinks I should be happy to have my Lincoln poem classed with Lowell's ode.

W. said as to that: "Many of my friends have agreed with you, Doctor, about that.

I don't have much bother with my conscience. But books—well, books make a coward of me."

My dear friend—It is just dawn, but there is light enough to write by, and the birds in their old sweet

My first knowledge of you is all entangled with that little garden.

I had received my article back from the Critic today, with this statement—(which I now read to W.): "

It has been my impression always, though perhaps from no actual knowledge at all, the DeKay is rich—comes

Then: "I have been out—startled—dazed: but now am better: have had my meal—strawberries, chiefly, which

Why, Horace, you have no idea of the exuberance of the man: he talks of buying all my books, of buying

W. said: "I am quite willing to sell him my books: that is what they are here for."

On my way to town this morning, I had met Bucke at the ferry, waiting for the Cape May train.

Gave me Contemporary Club cards for my sister Agnes.

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

I always argue that all the time there is my time: so I go slow with what I do—take the reasonable maximum

Paul was too much for me and my brain actually reels. I have never seen architecture before.

My brain is too sensitive. I am not strong enough to confront these things all at once.

Paul's, but it took my breath away.

It was more than I could bear and I will have to gird up my loins and try it many times.

My heart rejoiced for him. Mrs. Keller getting ready to go. No mail whatever for W.

And to my "yes, last week," he replied, "I think of her often. She is a woman out of the few."

He pressed my hand, "Well, good night—good night, Horace."

s at six, but he had anticipated my card, arriving at two, and so missing me.Ingersoll telegraphs me

All I can say is give him my love & tell him that he will always have one friend no matter what happens

he is my old boss." Adding: "Evarts was a very kind, friendly fellow." In the literary way?

Germantown, Sunday night,March 3d, 1889.My dear Traubel:Now that you and Doctor Bucke are gone I have

My God! but he's a time-taker: he's slower'n pitch on a frosty morning!

My lameness is very bad, and I am very exhausted before many hours pass each day.

of the bowels, and must, under medical orders, resort to artificial means, and this is my remedy.

I have my doubts!" I had with me a copy of the Moss process engraving catalogue.

He asked to "step in upon Melville Phillips" some day at my leisure.

"Ask him about my proofs—why I have had none.

I described how in my boyhood I had used to watch the pump-maker outside Camden—a Mr.

W. says, "The remembrance of the thing flashed across my mind, while I was in bed last night."

In the prose discussing Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar," he added, at my suggestion, several new lines,

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.)

Tuesday, March 29, 1892Hunted about some for New York Herald—going to ferry—getting my mail on the way

My engagement with Bucke had been that we meet there and commence at once to box up the papers.

on Wednesday, having a duty to perform in Baltimore, I send by express to you to-night a big wreath—my

Responses to my telegrams come.

Could not deliver my telegram. And this message made me very happy: "I will come. Wrote you today.

now, if he does not object, will draw up this check for the half of it: I'm obliged to be cautious: my

I do not like to write this way but I think you ought to know my candid opinion.

My dear Doctor:When I wrote you at Philadelphia I omitted to answer your question as to the existence

W. said: "My silence seemed to astonish her.

who is Clifford's friend has my respect."

W. said, "My young man here is good—none could be better.

No, no, they may not want it, of course—that is one of my risks.

But the words he puts into my mouth, the so-called actual phrase, touch—oh! they are very funny.

been at a meter meeting—all the principal stockholders present—got home about 6 P.M. and found it on my

I cannot understand you leaving it out—to my mind it is an admirable piece—most valuable.

He murmured a "good morning," but I decided not to press my presence.Talcott Williams writes with his

last fund remittance: "I enclose my check for a dearly loved service." 1:20 P.M.

"No, not in the least: my days are dreadful—dreadful." "With pain?"

I turned to W. and gave him my "Good night," which he returned, raising his hand, which I kissed as he

of its poets.Tell W. that I beg of him to give me through you a little light to help me forward with my

skin: my skin is free: I perspire freely: I don't know but every day this winter my body has been at

own way—hold by my own views.

He shook his fist at me: "Why so hot, my little man?

"Tell them I am still chained to my rock but that I can still flap my wings: tell them I may not be just

Give my love to Doctor B.

He was very ready to listen to some of my objections, and deferred to them.

He opened it, my hand dropping to its clasp, which was weak."Morning.""

I am on my way to work—to the busy desk over there in the big town.""Luck!""I tire of it at times.""

Telegram here from Ingersoll, evidently in response to my letter: "We all send words of love and hope

Remarked as to Stedman's criticism on my Poet-Lore piece, "Stick to it—it's the only way."

He pressed my hand, "Well, bless you, you are always good to me." "No, only as one having love."

I met Harned up the street, he to his, I to my home. Afterwards both to W.'

W. said: "I can't bring my heart to say amen to that."

I said: "That makes my definition of heaven apropos." W. asked: "What's that?"

W. looked over at Tom: "Do you think the world would accept my poem?"

10.30 on my way back passed 328. I did not intend to go in.

On my way to the Club: University Extension debated tonight.

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.

s letter and McAlister's last bulletin to Bucke: made the matter up from this and my talk.

Was in the room for ten minutes and more, at one time going up against the bed and even putting my hand

"I am inert, feeble, borne down with lassitude—my head being sore and sick: but there has been no recurrence

—I am not so sure of it, my hearty.

"I always designate my price when I submit a piece: it is far the simplest way: I make my own valuations

lines—a touch)—that was a mere thumb-nail, a hint—yet I named my sum and got it."

Alexander Dumas to write my memoirs from.

A man who has had my career is safe against the like.

Now, in these late days, as I look back upon the past, I can see that, in a sense, my misfortunes have

been my fortunes—that it must have been altogether right for me to have travelled a rough, hard road—so

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

As per my promise to Bucke, I urged W.'s preface to O'Connor's book.

the minister, Cake"—who "out-Heroded Herod in coming here"—proposing—"communal marriages, in a way—in my

I have been very feeble—O my!

For one thing, it gives my idea of my own book: a man's idea of his own book—his serious idea—is not

one point, marked my caution very high—seven and over.

Their seven was backed by my experience with myself.

man,' 'my man,' 'my man.'

Why should he not put them down now, independent of my article?

been with you on the 31st of May last, here is in substance what I should have said and what sums up my

what I should have said, had I been this last 31st May among you: and then I should have raised in my

turn my glass wishing a very long life to the august old man and assuring him of all my love.Kindly

But I know I did my best reading when I was alone that way—off in the woods or on the shore.

say, that anyone, to get hold of me,—the bottom of the big book—all I have written—would see that all my

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 brain will not solidify."

Well—I don't want to assume my cure." "Why not?

I attribute much of my success in weathering this attack to my good stock—to my father, my mother: indeed

Your Leaves of Grass I keep with my Shakespeare and my Bible and it is from these three that I have got

I never met men in all my experience who caught on so well."

Ed," he called out (Ed sat out towards the door), "Ed—go upstairs—on my bed you'll find a little package

The other day, when my sister Gussie stepped in (it was Sunday) to see him, he gave her an envelope thus

inscribed— The Fair Pilot of Loch Uribal.One of my favorite storiesW.W. and inside, some sheets torn

gloomy'—and every time it sets me up"Walt Whitman"it was "By an Idle Voyager"— Said W.: "They copied my

But beyond and above all my objections are facts which make all of them slight and counting for little

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

W. asked me what was my middle initial, which he has never used in writing my name.

Give my love to all the rest—explain that I am tied down to my chair here—that my head needs to be humored

will should be my sister in law Mrs: Louisa Orr Whitman and my brother George W Whitman (now resident

effects, money, of my house and lot 328 Mickle Street—Also that my said executrix under this will is

Nancy Whitman, my brother Andrew's widow, fifty dollars ($50).In sign of my writing my nameWALT WHITMANall

other irons in the fire—leaves all that part of the work to Jo—and it has always been Jennie who was my

W. remarked: "I am in no hurry to read it—in no hurry for my copy—I can very easily wait.