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being quite crushed with the dead heat we have been having, and sick with obstinate bowel trouble and my

My belief in your getting better is invincible, for your stamina is indomitable.

My dear friend: I have just heard from Kennedy that your illness continues.

so glad that you have to help you so devoted a friend as young Traubel, and through you I give him my

hand and my thanks.

In these days the glorious words you have spoken about Death comes up in my mind, and I feel much as

Milwaukee, July 14th 1888 My dear Walt I was very very glad to get a letter from you yesterday.

that you are gaining again—I was very sorry that I could not get back to Camden—but I had to go with my

Sentenced to death after serving as captain of engineers in the Parliamentary Army during the revolution

It is dry as a bone here, no rain for many weeks, my potato crop is cut short 50 per cent, & all my young

I try to keep absorbed in my farm operations.

My regards to Horace Traubel. Tell me something about him when you write again.

Camden Tuesday Early PM July 17 '88 Pleasant weather warmish but not hot—my body strength & head grip

Mitchell suggested it yesterday afternoon—I feel better I suppose as I sit here, but my head is thick

to 92 inclusive proof sheets, those are all the printers given me to date—I am still sitting up—have my

Burroughs was still depressed: "I try to keep absorbed in my farm operations.

About half of my folk are gone and going to Sarnia on a visit—Clare & Ina went yesterday, Mrs B.

forenoon & fair temperature—warmish—yours of 17th rec'd to-day—I wonder if you are not to be envied there—my

My dear friend I cannot tell you what joy your message has given me, both as proof of your improvement

With what joyful smiling I thank God that you are better, as I wept from my heart, at hearing of your

ancestor of yours settled very early in Weymouth, this portion of which where I am now staying was my

allude to his visit to America, but there may be something in it — —I feel better—am working a little at my

booklet yesterday and to-day—my head feels easier, but the weakness especially in getting about & in

my knee power is fearful—Hope you & George and Ed & Deb & Jo & the young one are jolly & sitting up—

July 8th 1888 My dear Walt; I have followed your illness with breathless concern—that is, what I could

Whitman referred to Rossetti's edition as a "horrible dismemberment of my book" in his August 12, 1871

Home July 24/88 My Dear Old Friend I received your letter written the 21 st day after the one of yesterday

many good friend friends you have & how pretty they write I have often wished that I could express my

Horace Traubel —& by the best printers I have ever yet had—The Century people have just sent me again my

October number—bowel movements continue every day or other day—I take no drugs at all—have not moved from my

I had been feeling depressed and sorrowful—perhaps my own bad state had something to do with it; but

anyhow, the brave hand-writing was like Chevy Chace to Sidney, "stirring my heart as with the sound of

He is certainly the winter of my discontent mentioned by Lord Bacon in his play of Richard III.

years Whitman increasingly considered him an antagonist; late in his life, Whitman commented: "Some of my

EDITORIAL•DEPARTMENT THE CENTURY•MAGAZINE UNION•SQUARE•NEW•YORK 25 July 1888 My dear Mr Whitman: I hope

don't want them back)— If any gaps of the proof pages up to 104 exist, mention it & I will remit—Keep my

room yet—am sitting now (& in four fifths time day) in the capacious ratan-seated arm chair—my condition

& shall probably make a sort of rally—This is the 6th or 7th whack thro' the last fourteen years of my

My head (physical brain) & spirits good—legs & bodily strength gone .

bed—very bad weakness of legs and body—the worst of head trouble disappeared—Thanks for your letter —my

My opine is that our dear O'Connor is better—jaunting at present for the time an easier road on plateau

than the C itself) —Ed Stafford has just call'd with some apples & a chicken— Saturday Sunset Have had my

dinner, stew'd chicken & rice pudding—have not left my room yet, but shall get down a few minutes to-morrow

I am sitting here in the chair in my room yet—weather fine, rain at nights, to-day a little clouded &

the best last news of Wm —Quite certainly I am weathering—to all appearance—this ab't sixth whack of my

war paralysis—(thanks mainly I opine to a sound strong body heredity from my dear father & mother)—I

am still keeping my room—shall attempt a mild raid soon—take no medicines—have finished (sent in all

copy) my little Nov: Boughs —Horace Traubel is a noble faithful fellow—Weather continues superb— Walt

On July 31, he wrote John Burroughs that he had "finished (sent all copy) my little Nov: Boughs."

reads, in its entirety, "The two songs on this page are eked out during an afternoon, June, 1888, in my

General Philip Henry Sheridan's death (on August 5), and later as Interpolation Sounds in Good-Bye My

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

Whitman Camden Dear Sir I trust you will pardon me for intruding upon you—after you read my letter—I

I am oh so very glad—but not so with me—on the contrary I am gradually growing worse—my case is called

I was first attacked in my right eye last Oct. it passed off and in April it again showed itself in the

side of my face roof of my mouth tongue & throat—I can only swallow liquid food. my speech is badly

inclusive —there will be ab't 20 more—I am more comfortable than you may suppose Sunset Have had & enjoyed my

roseate toward me & I feel thankful & responsive—& all the confirmatory possible— I am still kept in my

the indication of it—& to-day Saturday a fearful hot & oppressive baker & prostrater , the worst to my

printing office is now all diverged on a Harrison and Morton book, hurry is up—will take them a week—my

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.

)— I leave mainly the carrying it out to your aformentioned taste & judgment—you can confer &c with my

A thousand thanks my dear Walt Whitman for all you have written, I shall always be your debtor.

is and has been warm even here but not disagreeably so—you will recollect that I have proofs to 117 —my

arrangements and returned and told him all about it which pleased him very much, he put his arms around my

another room and when it got close to the wall an oven door opened and in went the rod and pan with my

friend vanishing away like a snow flake before my eyes. that thought then as well as now crowded into

These are part of what thoughts were crowding in my brain as I stood watching for one hour till my friend

Cooper vanished away before my eyes. so I felt I must tell you that there is a new Crematory built in

Reprinted as "Interpolation Sounds" in Good-Bye My Fancy (1891).

When reprinted in "Good-Bye My Fancy," the poem included the note, "General Sheridan was buried at the

Camden Sunday Evn'g Aug: 12 '88 Nothing very new or different—I am still in my sick room—Sit up most

1888] I am about the same—Strangely somehow I don't get any more power in my body or legs—I feel pretty

as before—I have not left the room up stairs yet (now nine weeks)—the Doctor thinks it not best yet— My

all, & thought it best to hurry it done right off—But at present I am much as of late years, except my

few lines from Jeff (in St Louis)—I am now sitting in the big chair—Spend most of the day here—had my

Camden Aug: 14 '88 Sunny & cool to-day—nothing new in my case—bowel action—my lines on Sheridan's burial

were printed in Herald Aug: 12—(I am beginning to keep my bits & contributions, poetic spurts &c. again

out still undecided—not before than October anyhow—I still have the design of making a 900 page Vol. my

piece—I shall write more at length another day, am rather crowded this morning I think I shall remodel my

is always welcome—John's good letter was rec'd this forenoon & is cheery & hospitable as always—Yes my

—I may come to New York & see you all—We will see how the cat jumps—I still remain in my sick room—tho

—This week so far the temperature has been just right here—My little booklet November Boughs is ab't

disjointed paper on "Elias Hicks" —the publication will be delayed yet a number of weeks—I am sitting up in my

perhaps other illustrations (why not use the phototypes of your father & mother that Gutekunst got up for my

Your friend RM Bucke Gables Here is a Bucke letter which you may stick into the proper place of my vol

My dear Mr.

much stronger than when last I felt its generous touch, that token is alone enough to gladden this my

Camden Wednesday Evn'g: Aug: 22 '88 Still keeping in my sick room.

My brother Eddy that was at Moorestown is now at Blackwoodtown. Is well.

Whitman occasionally referred to Stafford as "My (adopted) son" (as in a December 13, 1876, letter to

Camden Wednesday Evn'g Aug: 22 '88 Am still keeping my room—Sunny & cool day very fine—the booklet slowly

I am, my dear friend, Affectionately yours RM Bucke Richard Maurice Bucke to Walt Whitman, 24 August

I send my love to you RM Bucke See notes Aug. 27, 1888.

My Complete Works , ab't 900 pp Vol: will be put to press nearly contemporaneously with the Nov.

recover strength or personal activity or any thing of that sort, the least particle—I have not left my

"I call it my war paralysis," said the poet.

Kittermaster (a lawyer, nephew of Mrs Bucke's & good friend of mine) and one of my little boys drove

or at one side or other of the road—a good team, free travelers—altogether a grand day—today up to my

Belmont My Dear Walter (as poor Emerson wd would say) I some weeks ago devised a cunning scheme for getting

I took up the idea & having my time at my disposal, I am going to work you up a lecture.

Do you think you will be able to come by that time, my dear friend?

I have never heard you either read or lecture & shall be a thousand times repaid for my trouble. aff—

"Last of Ebb" is my favorite. William Sloane Kennedy to Walt Whitman, 28 August 1888

know what she would do, forced to quit her nice home: but such things will occur, and then it is, at my

My Sister Mrs Coll sends me a little money at times, which buys a load of wood and some groceries.

.— I have been thinking over the "Riddle Song" and have made up my mind that the answer is "Good Cause