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hear from Han, but I suppose she is getting along in the same old way—As I am writing this letter at my

how funny the world is governed—& lots of queer doings that outsiders never dream of— Well, mother, my

Jim is dissatisfied unless I write pretty often, whether there is any thing to write about or not—My

to heal so that he can sit up, & then gradually move about, & so in due time be able to travel— So, my

friend, farewell for present, & I pray that God may be with you, & though we are strangers I send my

fight—I carry an umbrella, and if the sun gets to fall on me good & strong, any of the real hot days, my

I have made up my mind that the camp hospitals are pretty well cleaned out, the worst cases are here

The more I see of them in the Army, the higher & broader my estimate of them.

So, doctor, I still remain here in Washington, occupying my time nearly altogether among the wounded

March 19, 1867 Dearest mother, I got both your letters last week, & they were a relief to my mind—I want

John Burroughs to–day— Mother dear, as soon as I hear from you, I will write more particular about my

Mother, I shall probably send the order in my next.

I was so warm & snug & my nest was so well feathered; but I have really cut loose & do not expect to

I am wearing my overcoat—You see, mother, I am likely to prove a true prophet about Greeley —He is not

My vacation is nearly done, & in four or five days more I shall be back in Washington.

here in Providence—I have been with him a good deal—he is not very well, but goes around—Will finish my

It is too bad you don't get my letters Tuesday, as I send them in ample time Monday—they are in the p

the wife's & his kindness to me—but probably it is doubtful if he calls— Mother, I am sitting here by my

in Atlantic street, on some accounts, but there is always something—I have not been satisfied with my

several weeks ago, I tried another place & room for a couple of days & nights on trial, without giving up my

old room—Well, I was glad enough to go back to my old place & stay there—I was glad enough I hadn't

—So you see my official life, with all its monotony, is not without a little fun, now & then, for a change

Two of her pictures I have seen, are real good—Well she wants to make a portrait of my beautiful countenance

& came to ask me to sit for her—Well I consented—but don't think I shall begin until I return from my

& melting here for two or three days—but there is a cool fresh breeze blowing in here, as I finish my

Well, I believe that is all—only to send you my love, mother dear—same to George—write all the domestic

hear—But, Mother, you must not worry about it—it will be arranged some way— There is nothing new in my

I write this at my desk—spring is quite advanced here—it is a damp, misty, cloudy forenoon—but pleasant—I

James Gray, Bookbinder 16 Spruce st. 4th floor, is the custodian of the sheets of my Leaves of Grass,

Mother, all the news I have to write about my affairs, is the same old thing—we have had another long

this week—they have carried all their measures successfully over the President—I am writing this at my

already—the grass & trees are beginning to look green—they have made a large flower garden right in front of my

idea for days & days, & of course suffered awfully—One of the watchmen of the Treasury, (formerly a Captain

Walt If Mary & the girls come, you must give them my love, & tell Mary I shall send her a small package

My dear Mr. McGuire, The money you gave me for Mr.

My head does not get right, that being still the trouble—the feeling now being as if it were in the centre

I keep pretty good spirits, however, & still make my calculations on getting well.

They are the rooms in which my mother died, with all the accustomed furniture, I have long been so used

I have written to Harry Douglas, my fellow clerk in the office, asking him to send me my letters here

My lift at the Ashton's was a great help to me—the change from the 15th st. rooms, & then the weather

My dear friend, I am here a while on leave—am in good health as usual—have been engaged in electrotyping

a new edition of my book in better form—You sent me word a year or more ago of some Boston publisher

, or bookseller, who was willing (or perhaps wished) to sell my book —Who was it?

biography, The Ferry Boy and the Financier (Boston: Walker and Wise, 1864); he described their meetings in My

O'Connor in 1867: "Every year confirms my earliest impression, that no book has approached the power

I have just written to the Postmaster at Washington, asking him to forward my letters here, as I suppose

In my case there is no notable amendment—& not much change—I have irregular spells of serious distress

the day or night only, with intervals in which, (while I remain still,) I feel comparatively easy—but my

C[lerk] at which I am truly pleased —Nelly, as I suppose you will see this letter, I will send you my

& did he say any thing new about my sickness or symptoms?

Trübner & Company, Dear Sirs, Please make out acc't account of sales of my books, Leaves of Grass &c.

for the closing year, & remit me am't amount due, by mail here, by draft payable to my order.

letter of May 14 has come to hand to-day, reminding me of your being in Armory Square Hospital & of my

I send you my love, & to your dear children & wife the same.

it is just comfort enough to be together, almost without any thing else)— I remain about the same in my

red, (though looking now very old & gray, but that is nothing new)—weigh 185 now—am badly lamed in my

am well situated here—but very lonesome —have no near friends, (in the deepest sense) here at hand—my

Nov. 24, 18 68 Dearest Mother, I suppose you got my letter last Saturday, 21st—All goes along at present

last—To-day it is very fine—I should like to be with you on Thanksgiving, Thursday—I shall take dinner at my

Benedict told me yesterday to bring any of my friends to dinner I wanted to—I still have the same room—I

the office that keep me hard at it— Love to you, dearest mother—& to all— I have had to scratch off my

letter in a hurry, but I wanted you to have something, according to promise in my last.

Sunday Evng Sept: 2 '88 Your good letter just rec'd & here I am sending word back—still imprisoned in my

sick room—non-rehabilitated yet but middling well for all that—my booklet November Boughs ab't finish'd

—& a large vol. comprising all my stuff begun —I am here just at sunset—Love to you all old & young—I

up & imprison'd in sick room—y'rs of a week ago rec'd & welcom'd —I want to send over some copies of my

Camden NJ America Thursday Evn'g Oct 4 '88— Still keeping my sick room but fair spirits & no worse—great

particulars—H Gilchrist seems to be thriving & happy—I hear often from Dr Bucke —I will send you forthwith my

— Finest sort of weather, sun, skies &c here days & nights—I was out last evn'g to supper and stopt my

New Jersey U S America Feb: 10 '90 — It is near sunset after a bright winter day & I am waiting for my

supper—my young nurse is down stairs practising practicing his fiddle lesson— —I have just written three

and his brother Harry were the sons of Henry Whireman Fritzinger (about 1828–1881), a former sea captain

Davis, Whitman's housekeeper, who had also taken care of the sea captain and who inherited part of his

Still in my sick room—less well to-day, but have had a fair fortnight. Clear & cold weather.

as usual—took a long drive by myself midday yesterday—basked in the sun & drove slow—Have just had my

money for it, (& great good it does me, coming now)—Herbert Gilchrist is here—he is drawing & painting my

perhaps the best thing yet—Love to your father, yourself & Alys, the baby dear, & all—as I end, after my

Camden NJ US America April 19 '89 Am still anchor'd here in my second story in Mickle street—not much

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

sill—every thing all right—had toast & a great mug of Whitman's chocolate & hot milk (excellent) for my

yesterday —Your letter of Nov. 12 has been read & re-read, & quite gone the rounds—much admired—I send you "My

over, in a very kind & good letter—enclosing some printed slips from paper—one written by you ab't my

close, but we are having a warm spell here—(now the fourth day of it) —I am ab't as usual in health—my

431 Stevens Street Camden New Jersey Feb: 22 '81 My dear Eustace Conway I am sorry I was out when you

for there is nothing to write ab't—only the fact of writing to you if that is anything—Here I am in my

den as for a year & a half, but not so much different or given out yet—My sleeping & appetite yet hold

fair—you know I am along now in my 71st— Love to you all— Walt Whitman Walt Whitman to Mary Whitall

Christmas—1884—'5 328 Mickle Street Camden N J Thanks my loving young friends for the magnificent chair—so

cloudy warm forenoon, I feel that I would just like to write a line (quite purposeless no doubt) sending my

love & thanks to you & yours—Do you know this is the anniversary day of my receiving the present through

There is nothing new or noteworthy in my own affairs.

I keep fashioning & shaping my books at my leisure, & hope to put them in type the current year.

You speak of my prose preface to first "Leaves of Grass."

I am writing this at my desk in the Treasury building here, an immense pile, in which our office occupies

From my large open window I have an extensive view of sky, Potomac river, hills & fields of Virginia,

I gaze at the Sea while I eat my food and think of thee. . . . and often while I gaze thereon I think

If convenient please give the bearer, for the Photo: Process Co: for me, the negative of the photo: my

still holding out after a fashion)—am writing a little, mentality—(sort o') & good right arm—I sent you my

both—Logan's letter rec'd & gladly—With me slowly jogging along (down hill)—easier the last few days of my

watching half an hour or more—was there last evening at sunset—Suppose you rec'd the papers, accting my

birth day supper (I am now in my 72d y'r you know)—Dr Bucke is home in Canada at his Asylum busy as

a bee—is well—I have heard of my lines & note ab't the Queen's birthday in the English papers —my last

My friends I wish to deeply & gratefully thank the author of "Victor Hugo" in Critic of May 30, for the

328 Mickle street Camden New Jersey July 27 '86 My dear friends If you can use this, the price would

431 Stevens street Camden New Jersey US America Sept 8 '76 Edward Dowden My dear friend I send you by

Dowden's set was directed right—My second batch of the new edition (600 copies each Vol.) is at last

I have many things to say to you my dear friend.

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