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Some of my friends say, 'Watch Dave.' I do watch him, but not because I do not think him square.

But when it comes to my books he shies some—they are more or less suspected.

Her influence on my side has perhaps helped some to save me with Stedman.

He laughingly called my name. I stopped.

I advise you to study its mechanics: that's where my advice ends.

"I just started my fire—I am always anxious to know."

I wrote to Bucke this morning on hospital matters, and explained to W. the substance of my note.

As to Harrison's historic position W. said: "Take due note of my prophecy: it will come true."

W. asked for details about my visit to Shillaber with Morse.

On my description W. very readily perceived the differences. At W.'

He did not awake on my silent entrance.

"I expect to get there; but there are 9 days yet, and I am not prepared to say I may not get one of my

He not only tells me to "keep the Thoreau book—it is yours," but, today—on my commenting upon a big 1871

portrait on the table, said—"I have not many but you must take that one," signing my name to it at the

had enclosed in our letters a little slip, containing the following letter: Cambridge, March 13, 1877 My

The truth is my affairs here demand my constant presence.

One of my men has left me & cannot yet find another.

Then he said: "My advice to the boys would be, let it be a local affair if it must."

But he has not been well—"My head troubles me a great deal.

"I am getting more and more satisfied with my bed and chair, which is suspicious."

Explains: "The fall in my pulse is getting more and more evident: I've got no time to lose."

In talking about signatures W. said: "O'Connor once took one of my signatures to a clerk in the Treasury

I have about made up my mind to live another year: why not?

You will see that he harps on the Calamus poems again—always harping on 'my daughter.'

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 expressed the feeling that the book as a whole did not reach my expectations—that it was too literary—not

For my pleasure it could not have assumed a better form."

Further—"This will undoubtedly be my last public appearance—" I interrupted laughingly—"Like the farewells

consciousness it is that what I say is true—that this is my last—that there comes an end, and here are

of the big book to give to Jennie May—just married to Sam Fels—which I transferred with Anne's and my

She is a friend of my Quaker friend, Mary Costelloe: it was no doubt through Mary that we came together

W. said: "My attention was first called to him by William O'Connor, who may have met him personally—I

My taste has been modelled on another theory—in the school of Scott, of Cooper, of some others of the

I remember the Tales of my Landlord, Ivanhoe, The Fortunes of Nigel— yes, and Kenilworth—its great pageantry—then

W. this noon, on my entrance, sat looking over a copy of the pocket edition.

But most enjoyably of all did he listen to my reading of Kennedy's letter.

Said: "I have my own speech prepared: it will only be a couple of lines."

I gave him the substance of my letter.

care—besides something of my own."

I kissed W. my congratulations. He was very fine about it.

Weda Cook sang a My Captain song of her own composition.

W. addressed Weda Cook: "My dear—who taught you to sing?"

W. was very warm towards Harned and his wife, my sister.

W. to me: "My love is anybody's love today."

My nights are better than my days—I sleep, after a fashion.

And if my 'Leaves' have failed here they have failed altogether.

My work is well known in England & I possess the highest possible testimonials regarding it from Cardinal

yoursRaymond BlathwaytI might add that Lord Tennyson lives in the parish in the I. of Wight of which my

And John—though I should not call him a don, yet is my friend, seems unaltered towards me.

man as William O'Connor—so born critic he was—warned me in those early years in Washington, to put my

I wished to show this to my father.

"My friend John Reed, himself an Englishman, used to pass here daily, but now that I want to see him,

Thought I should take Schmidt's portrait also to show my father.

As to what should be the nature of the flap—"I am unable to make up my mind.

Of course I am always glad to see my friends. It is to my interest to put my best foot forward.

I think some of my friends imagine that my condition bites—that I feel the bite of poverty, inattention

I explained my talk with Oldach today.

It used to be my delight to get the youngsters, the very young ones, take them in my arms, walk them—often

"I went silently, so as not to disturb Mary, but I realized my exhaustion."

—and on my shaking my head: "Well—I intended to: it escaped me."

own way—not to be unnecessarily interfered with even here, even in my incompetencies."

faith—in the end my faith prevails.

"Yes—just that: though I don't get into a boil over it I keep up a devil of a thinking in my corner—my

And when you go you will take my love!" And again, "Good for Baker! Good for the Colonel!"

"Exactly, that was always my idea.

I had no view but this: that a few of us—my father, mother, some very dear friends—should be put there

As to Moore's proposition that I should raise the money and my refusal, W. exclaimed, "Good! Good!

This is entirely my affair—no other's.

s on my way home and left the Arena with him.7:15 P.M. Some talk with W.

Said this to my sister in the forenoon, now again to me.

I have gone to several so-called Scotch concerts in my time, but they turned out farcical from gross

Here in my own case I go even to the extreme of hesitation, so to call it but I suppose I am saved by

paragraphs—then said: "I felt as I heard you read along that there was something that gibed perfectly with my

I looked at my muddy boots, my flannel shirt—and then W. exclaimed: "Go!

own satisfaction, for last ten years.But my dear comrades I will now tell you something about my own

folks—home here there is quite a lot of us—my father is not living—my dear mother is very well indeed

in my mother's house.

dear comrades, and I pray God to bless you my darling boys, and I send you all my love, and I hope it

I don't know but I'll have to close all my friends out."

Then I feared it might in part conflict with my other piece now nearly done.

Asked me, "What about my envelopes?" I had seen Cohen. They would not be done till Monday.

My brothers and their folks complain of overcrowding—that I put too much on.

are—whether my head's clear—a whole army of points and points—rank and file."

Asked after certain features of my New England Magazine paper again.

I consider him one of my true friends. He looked well and fat—his arm nearly recovered.

Suddenly he looked at me and laughed: "I got my poem back from Harper's Weekly," he remarked.

Then besides, a man at my years and condition must not worry about anything." But what of the poem?

Intends to insert the autobiographic page out of my book—also a new advertising page, which he wrote

Left that in my hands.

"My position had been simple: sitting here day after day in this litter"—looking around—"my one idea

My dear Mr.

As to Walt Whitman, I am glad that my little note pleased the good and grand old man.

I often feel that the succession of events and of work is a thing hardly in my own hands.

It has been about me now for fifty years: I am very close to it: it is one of my bibles."

Thanks to you both.I had planned to have some leisure at my command to write you a fairly long letter

at Johnston's—sitting up with him till after 1, both loathe to separate.I read the College some of my

of & gratitude for all your kindness by my cold, undemonstrative passiveness—"the cold silent manner

you both love & blessing.All the time I was in Camden I felt it all too deeply—beyond my capacity to

wil gradually take its due place & proportion & perspective in my mind.

First thing that struck my eye in Press were these notices:Obituary.Thomas J.

Of course he will laugh, but that is my way of describing it."

I told W. frankly my view and he said, "I so understand it, too—so from the Colonel.

Did not say a word about my manuscript nor did I ask him.

But it set my head whirling round like the worlds. I could not stand it—stopped.

Agnes designs a big charcoal reproduction of the Gutekunst picture by my father.

W. likes the idea, and proposes to send her a picture from which my father can work. The day cool.

Later in the day he sent proof up to my home. Added to it his Rossetti letter.

"I mean counted my pulse, questioned me—went through all the technicalities: but—!"

When I said: "Should you ever need a Secretary, let me serve," he fervently responded: "Bless you, my

Captain: Could you give me a little further information about my brother Capt. George W.

—Was my brother really well & hearty—was Lieut. Sam'l Pooley, 51st N.Y. there, & how was he?

—Do you know whether my brother got letters & boxes we sent him?

perhaps there was not something in him after all—but much that has lately been happening has disappointed my

Harrison has been lately playing a constant part—a devilish, picayune part—worthy of him—worthy of my

original idea of him, unworthy of my hope.

Scott at first protested that he would not go up at all, but finally went, on my assurance that he might

He asked my opinion, which, as I told him, had not been the Doctor's.

Then at last I stand to my own stubborn guns, for somewhere in me is the last unbendingness which must

And when I laughed and said I had written something of this sort in my paper, and spoke of Grant as of

"Yes," he remarked, "it is wholly unsatisfactory and not very gracious, either: sets me down for my worst

Is about to go to New York, where he will see Johnston.I told him my sister Agnes would be married on

Said: "I have been spending one of my usual unrelieved monotonous days—feeling very well, except for

this strange, palling weight in my head, which wears down, a constant pressure upon me."

Whitman ever heard of me, or that he would care to hear, but he has my sympathy, and best wishes for

Stockton:Dictated::W. exclaimed—"Indeed I do care—all those things are touching—go straight to my heart

I had asked my usual questions.

He followed my mild "yes" with a sort of joy. "Wasn't it a rouser?

I was putting the letter in my pocket.

It gives me a new conception of my own importance in the world.

(Give him my hearty greetings!)

"That is from my Marlton friend, who was also here today."

the noon mail—delivered about 2—and I was sitting here—felt particularly in the mood—had a pencil in my

"I am sure I haven't the least idea—that was not in my mind at all—not till you mention it now."

I don't know whether this would be my elaborate opinion, made up of malice prepense for print, but it

I do not see my idea spoken of at all: yet it seems to me the first necessity of judgment."

Had kept letter open in order to include my Philadelphia address.

My eye is now under battery treatment (assault and battery treatment, you would think to look at it!)

and just as soon as I can recover my sight a little better, I will plunge into the volume, which now

you have turned my memory back to an old story. Did I ever tell you?

Well, that day, with Dana: the instant I saw him, I made for him, talked my loudest, saying: 'What in

Ellis is a friend of Chubb's and wrote me warmly about my own book."

I laughed, "That would be poor revenge, from my standpoint!"

He has given me new meanings about my health. "Bucke and I discussed it.

"I must take some report of my talks back to the boys. They will expect it.

Displayed all my treasures but these—the greatest treasure of all.

John's Wood, N.W., London24 Sept. 1890Dear Walt Whitman,Accept my thanks for your "rejoinder" and the

Buxton FormanThis is the first day of my vacation.I referred to yesterday's paragraph in Post as "skimpy

Spoke of reading my piece, also editorial note on "The Kreutzer Sonata" in which he was mentioned.At

My impression not strongly favorable. I advised Ed to take them to Walt and let him question.

Took the Carlyle book from my hands—looked at picture of Mrs. C.

"I don't know what from, but my head was struck by a strange qualmishness.

My dear sir:Please accept my lasting acknowledgements for the copy of November Boughs so kindly sent

I sought only through Tom Harned a line from your hand to place in my copy of Leaves of Grass.

If you ever come my way I know a place hard by where a bottle of the reddest Burgundy may be found that

I know he will do it magnificently—that it will all be fine, strong—but my curiosity is for this: what

And to my affirmative he responded, "I have wished to know: it is always a curious point to me.

My own preference is for the 'Walt Whitman' in full." When he met the "M.

The eyes would be my main criticism."

"I don't remember, I only remember my impression: there seemed something awry, not just as I felt for

Do not print for the present: that would be my counsel."

The recurrence this night sent something of a pang to my heart, yet gladness too.

But I made him promise not to engage passage without my knowledge.

I have met Fields—his wife particularly was, is, my friend—Anne Fields.

He responded: "And that is a great deal my own feeling—is to be considered—considered carefully.

My disposition towards it now is, to say—if he uses it, well; if not, well again.

suppose I can have proof, so that when the matter comes up that way I can suggest changes—in fact, put my

I have it in my memorandum book here—the date: can get it if we need to.

I guess I made it evident I wouldn't turn a damned inch on my heel for any of them."

that's my method: I rarely write on the reverse side of the sheet.

"I see you know without my telling you. Well, do it that way.

In reply to my expressed suspicion that there was someone on the Christian Union interested in ignoring

I won't give you a letter, but you can say you are from me—and you may give him my good word and tell

him he is often in my thoughts as I sit here in my den."

Now today Warrie takes one of my boxes here.

But the court steps in and says, you shan't dispose of your goods that way, there's only one way—my way—and

And when I restated, "It could not have been in my copy—must have come in a later edition."

and he urged I come right in—holding my hand warmly and firmly.

Davis sign receipt—then up again—W. taking both my hands in his own then—reaching forward to kiss me.

it seems to be a statement from some of my friends—a protest—which asks the world that they may not be

awe, bolsters my conviction, lifts me.

He asked about my trip both ways—when I got in—how all the folks were—"Pardee and Ina? Ah yes!

"My head has been in a queer chaotic condition—as though in a whirl of phlegm."

I was not in my best condition—this trouble was on me—and so we did not say much."

and "My 71st Year." with his own written corrections."

Ed told me at one time he thought he could push it over—so I thought it my duty to get rid of it—remove

Carried on my shoulder twenty copies of November Boughs, which I put down on the sofa. "Books, eh?"

queried W., as he shook my hand. At once began to question me about the day.

"I prophesy its success," said W., "though, as you know, prophesy is not my long suit."

"Horace, I understand that—I understand:—it removes all my doubts."

Give my love to your mother.

Yet on my reminder he said, "I did notice something, yet did not know what. Of course, it's bad."

My dear Traubel:To begin where I left off yesterday: the excitement you have raised is phenomenal.

—that the whole testimonial is for his sole benefit—etc. etc.Now give my best regards to your own good

I hope to see you both some time next week—when the pot begins to boil—as I may be able to put in my

I can never do that: I am always held back till the fact is right in my fist—till a slip is no longer

And, "That trip to Canada was one of my best—seemed so completely to possess me—to fill me—I absorbing

My memory serves me some pretty mean tricks, but, somehow, I do not remember this thing at all—its make

At any rate we are helpless in the matter—I have my own doubts—culminations of culminations of thoughts

"This is for the dear girl, with my love!"

And again: "His 'Prose Writers of Germany' has been one of my longest treasures.

I can never be shaken from my love of it.

Those two pieces on Shakespeare in 'November Boughs' are my best statement of the case, of my case.

My mind will not stick by me for consecutive work." Did his eyes fail him?

"No, my eyes are pretty good, though dimming."

Though he had not yet inscribed my picture he said: "It is ready at any time you choose to take it."

That's a sample of the way my memory works nowadays!" Thursday, September 12, 1889