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My noble and dear friend—Walt Whitman, I have had the pleasure of talking for you, and of you again.

One man—fine—true and scholarly and sincere took my hand and said: "I am converted."

Then—when it came—it was so different from my fancies—but you dear friend, were not disappointing.

Dr Knortz & send you—although he has of course notified you to same effect—I am still living here in my

spirits—but get around with great difficulty, (or rather I should say hardly at all) & have been stricken in my

My dear Sir; The translations of your poems are now ready for the printer and the MS will sail for Europe

tuesday Tuesday My dear Walt i received your letter on monday Monday glad to hear you get along so well

weather its it's hot to be shure sure but no use fretting about it well Walt i have been to day and had my

and one for myself i shall send han one in the package so you see walt Walt i bequeath something to my

letters)—some like to have me feed them (wounded perhaps in shoulder or wrist) perhaps a few bits of my

succoring of the stomach (which is of course most welcome & indispensable) I should say that I believe my

I have formed attachments here in hospital, that I shall keep to my dying day, & they will the same,

July 12, 89 Dear Walt: I write you briefly this morning before starting on my 2 weeks vacation to Delaware

At that time I was having one of my streaks of insomnia, & was very wretched for two or three weeks.

I go about all day with two balls of twine at my side, training the young vines in the way they should

& persistence sufficient to write and publish such thoughts;—But increased invalidism has prevented my

preserving your cheerfulness serenity & kindly spirit through it all—I am writing (or scratching rather) for my

good, to satisfy my own soul —So pardon me & I trust the reading of this will not weary you With kindest

Oct 17th My dear Walt 1867 the post man has gone bye by and no letters, and its being thursday Thursday

i feel worried very much for fear it is gone as i dident didn't get it yesterday my usuall usual day

letter is gone i have been waching the letter man and he s he's past and no letter i feel real bad my

July 1, 18 69 Dear Alfred Pratt, I am still here in Washington, & work in the same office—My health is

must write me a good long letter all about your affairs & yourself—all will be interesting— I send you my

Good bye, my loving boy — The following are responsible for particular readings or for changes to this

I hereby acknowledge the receipt of your kind letter of 2 Feb, which has been in my hands for some days

Of course my letter has gone to Washington.

I am closing in these days my article on you—.

Camden NJ 5th 12th 85 Walt Whitman Esq Dear Walt: I fear you do not fully appreciate my relations to

deal of writing about it, between them & me—and about two weeks ago I sent on a red-hot interview of my

And I want you to go at it or let me have my MSS . so I can get it off by next Saturday night.

—feeling so-so—Ed has gone over to my friend Tom Donaldson's —D seems to take a fancy for Ed & he reciprocates

—I am sitting here in the den in my big chair—Ed is leaving here soon Londonward—is there any special

drumming trip to New York and Boston—y'rs rec'd last evn'g —mutton & rice broth, Graham toast & tea for my

.— Delightful day—am sitting here ab't as usual—had my breakfast ab't 9—(get my dinner ab't 4 or ½ past

send proof pages 119 to 127—part of "Elias Hicks" —In a few days shall send 118 & all the rest—I send my

continue to feel fairly & what may be call'd improving—bowel movement this forenoon—I read letter from my

practically with it—certainly so—& glad to get it all— As I write, the Post paper comes, with an item ab't my

a second time—I guess I am getting along pretty well, considering everything—to have the books off my

Camden Monday noon Oct 15 '88 I sit here to-day ab't the same—close by fire in my stove, as it is pretty

cool, though pleasant and sunny—now here laid by in the fifth month—all my strength, all bodily-ab't-going-ability

—Some of those photo places off one side appear to make the best pictures in the world—My printing matters

future—As it may be that out of this hubbub some one in London may take a notion to rush & crudely reprint my

books—I send you (same mail with this) full & corrected copies of my two volumes, prepared for the printers

My dear friend, I authorise authorize you to make any arrangement about publishing, terms, &c. you think

Asylum for the Insane, London, 20th March 188 3 My dear Walt I have this afternoon received, read, and

You left out my remarks on "Children of Adam", I believe they were good but I acquiesce—your additions

But still, for the Lord's sake, spare my ch iii pt ii as much as possible.

Tell me, when you write, about Smith —give him my love—I still keep well & bustling for me—have been

weeks—often think about you all— Got a letter from London from Trübner day before yesterday for six sets of my

Grace) are at 177 Remsen street Brooklyn—Jeannette Gilder has written to me that she is going to write my

My health has been good since I last saw you.

am sure she always will be— It is very hot weather here—to-day it is 96 or '7—I am sitting here at my

Good bye, dear Abby—I send my love to Emily, & all—The O'Connors are well—Jenny grows like every thing

clever people, & have invited me to Newport next summer— I am writing this in the office, (alone in my

& Lou are with you—(I hope you will all take a glass of the Spanish wine)— I believe I told you in my

Mother, I will send the order in my next—The bells are all ringing for 7 oclock church—there is a chime

I will do my best to send the Dr something while I am on my vacation.

Give my love to him, and commend me to his wife and little ones. Alma and Calder are doing well.

heartier breakfast than usual—The piece last night went off all right—got thro' all without dishonor—feel my

not what they were—presence (self–possession &c) perfect—audience large & very cordial—It is probably my

place, not a show place, is call'd the Aldine —it is or was, (& I think they owned it) by German family my

Dear friend, Nothing very notable to write about, but I thought I would send you a line—This is one of my

last night—breakfast & dinner to-day with appetite—still get out a little most every day as formerly—my

give me three hours or so occupation (lazily) every day when I am not too ill —and then the baby , my

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

They are to publish L of G. same style as O[sgood]'s ed'n edition , same price, from my plates, & pay

me 35 cts cents a copy royalty—They are also to publish immediately my prose writings, Specimen Days

before him—perhaps has already decided—I keep well— W W The Boston Herald has articles strongly in my

152yal.00146xxx.00866Walt Whitman's Last—Good-Bye My Fancy1891prose1 leafhandwritten; A draft of Walt

Walt Whitman's Last—Good-Bye My Fancy

hottest day of the season—but I have got thro' fairly with it—& have just finish'd & quite enjoy'd my

Not yet left my room for down stairs— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Mary Whitall Smith Costelloe, 4 August

April 13 '79 My dear Sir To break the tedium of my half-invalidism—& as an experiment—I have come on

I thank my daughter, Myrth Killingsworth, an ecocritic in her own right, for being my writing companion

On hikes in the Smoky Mountains, one of my regular companions was my friend and major professor F.

Professor Miller directed my dissertation, which ultimately led to my first book, Whitman's Poetry of

just as I was saying good-bye to DeWolfe Miller and my friends in Tennessee and heading west where my

bare-stript heart, And reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd till you held my feet.

149uva.00009xxx.00713[My two theses]about 1856poetryhandwritten1 leaf4 x 16 cm pasted to 10.5 x 16 cm

[My two theses]

loc.04741xxx.00946In writing my history of Brooklynabout 1862prose1 leafhandwritten; Brief note regarding

In writing my history of Brooklyn

loc.04657xxx.00948[To-day completes my three-score-and]1889prosepoetry1 leafprintedhandwritten; Printer's

[To-day completes my three-score-and]

Debris 5 DESPAIRING cries float ceaselessly toward me, day and night, The sad voice of Death—the call of my

alarmed, uncertain, This sea I am quickly to sail, come tell me, Come tell me where I am speeding—tell me my

the whole MS. pretty well—with an eye to correction of dates & statistics—have a very few times made my

own comments & suggestions (from my own point of view, or feeling, or knowledge)—you follow the suggestions

Wednesday Evn'g Oct: 3 '88 The doctor was here this afternoon & speaks encouragingly but I still keep in my

sick room—My books are thro' the electrotyper & printer & are now in the binder —Soon as ready I shall

Monday PM Aug: 6 '88 Hot & sweltering weather here now the sixth day—No good news to send you ab't my

—sitting up —but have not left my room— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to William D.

420 Green Ave Brooklyn Apr. 10/91 My Dear Mr.

Whitman: Allow me to introduce to you my friend of many years' standing—Mr.

My Canary Bird. MY CANARY BIRD.

course they are original autograph & date—Am getting along ab't as usual—have just lighted a fire in my

stove, & had the big old wolf-skin spread on the back of my chair — Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Elizabeth

I started something with that end in view, but my condition at the time was rather dubious, so that I

"My writing has been clear from the start—almost from boyhood: not beautiful, but legible."

He called my attention to a letter from the West and called it "empty".

I can never know when the door will be banged shut in my face."

They are not my ideals but they are ideals—very lofty ideals." Saturday, July 21, 1888.

It seems Judge Garrison is to take them, and wants my signature. Oh yes!

There was 'Leaves of Grass': what a fight I had for that name"—and to my interposed idea that time had

settled in its favor,—"Well—for 15 or 20 years, everybody objected to it—even my friends."

And he added: "My critic gave all the intellectual reasons in the calendar, but of the emotional, the

I had Roden Noel's book with me, under my arm—and he asking me "How do you get along with it?"

He took his watch out—adjusted—"I am slow—my watch like me." Shook hands. Reading local papers.

Passed then to another topic: "I have my poems back from the Arena—the editor—Flower—says poems are a

drag on his hands—or indicates it—and wants my prose."

Took an orange he had laid out on the bed—gave into my hands: "Give this to your mother—tell her I send

I did not stay for my long talk.

nevertheless.Bucke wrote me in letter I received today—written the 29th—about Scovel:London, Ont., 29 Aug 1890 My

Yes, by all means try to write a line from time to time—I will keep up my end!

For to me, after all, the final security is, if anywhere, in my atmosphere, in the ridiculous impossibility

of things reputed of me, in my work, in authorized pronouncements.

remarked, looking at me.Looked over a Christian Register I had with me in which was copied in full my

THE friend I am happy with, The arm of my friend hanging idly over my shoulder, The hill-side whitened

pressed and glued together with love, Earth of chaste love—life that is only life after love, The body of my

and trembling encirling fingers—the young man all colored, red, ashamed, angry; The souse upon me of my

eats in me day and night with hungry gnaw, till I saturate what shall pro- duce produce boys to fill my

O'C in my hand at arm's length for several minutes trying to realize its import.

My regret is keen that I did not meet our noble & brilliant friend.

I wish you know the depth of my own feeling the tumultuous emotional depths—sort of despair—stirred up

My days are passed in the harrowing uproar of a great printing estab. & it is hard for me to find a soul-hour

O'C dead—if one rightly regarded it—just as much in harmony with the scene as my part of the life-throbbing

I had mined that if writing for a while corres pondent except my son in T exas I would wait a good long

My interest, profit and pleasure have been much distracted by fruit-rotting so generally of years.

cause you one bit of sorrow or anxiety if bad luck should befall us in any way— still, myself, children my

(My & Wife's dreadful "tempers" may wreck us any time—so care not much for us.

I would not recommend my section for a Northern man to make a fortune except in raising clover or other

My eyes fill with tears when I think of it.

He is truly the chief comfort of my life.

I live very quietly in my little cottage, rent the lower floor and though I feel cramped a good deal

There is a matter that has come to my notice lately that I am very anxious to get at the truth about,

The letter he published written by you to my mother about the hospitals and sacred almost to me came

sixty-five poems that had originally appeared in November Boughs (1888); while the second, "Good-Bye my

Merchantville, in "the leafy month of June," I took occasion, one bright Sunday morning, to call and pay my

visiting Philadelphia, two or three times taken the same liberty and enjoyed the same pleasure; once with my

On my last visit to you, I was glad to see you so, apparently, much better in health than I had anticipated

you an epigram which on a certain occurrence in 1882—a proceeding disgraceful to one of These States—my

I remain, my dear S ir, very truly, your friend, (if you allow me to call you so,) L. Shoemaker.

Quite a steady snow to-day, half melting after it falls—I have written to Kennedy —nothing to-day (to my

the youngsters out with skates & sleds— Am thinking much of O'C —I enclose Symonds's letter —So far my

Your "November Boughs" has been my companion during the last week.

I shall try to obtain it through my London bookseller.

Each time I have attempted to do so, I have quailed before my own inadequacy to grapple with the theme

SHOTTERMILL, HASLEMERE, Surrey, October 6, '79 1879 My dearest friend, Your letter came to me here just

We have been spending the last six or seven weeks in this village I am so fond of where my children grew

up; we came to live here after my husband's death and remained seven or eight years till until the boys

I am trying to write a brief memoir of my Husband to prefix to the new edition of the Blake Macmillan

I cannot tell you, dear friend, how often and how affectionately my thoughts turn to America the great

shopping & at the groceries—Mr Carpenter has gone upstairs to write some letters—& I am sitting here in my

son, how I wish you could come in now, even if but for an hour & take off your coat, & sit down on my

thing about the same with us—was over to Camden yesterday afternoon—Mrs Gilchrist went over too, & my

brother took her out on a good drive about the country—My sister was up & in good spirits —Herbert &

C —I shall be down Friday in the 6 o'clock train—I want to see the creek again—& I want to see you, my