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Whitman, Walt, 1819-1892

"Complete Prose Works Specimen Days and Collect, November Boughs and Goodbye My Fancy"

I advised him if it went abroad to take it to Paris. I
think they might appreciate it there--nay, they certainly would. Then
I would like to show Messieur Crapeau that some things can be done in
America as well as others.

SOME OLD ACQUAINTANCES--MEMORIES
_Aug. 16._--"Chalk a big mark for today," was one of the sayings of
an old sportsman-friend of mine, when he had had unusually good
luck--come home thoroughly tired, but with satisfactory results of
fish or birds.
Well, to-day might warrant such a mark for me. Everything propitious
from the start. An hour's fresh stimulation, coming down ten miles of
Manhattan island by railroad and 8 o'clock stage. Then an excellent
breakfast at Pfaff's restaurant, 24th street. Our host himself, an old
friend of mine, quickly appear'd on the scene to welcome me and bring
up the news, and, first opening a big fat bottle of the best wine in
the cellar, talk about ante-bellum times, '59 and '60, and the jovial
suppers at his then Broadway place, near Bleecker street. Ah, the
friends and names and frequenters, those times, that place. Most
are dead--Ada Clare, Wilkins, Daisy Sheppard, O'Brien, Henry Clapp,
Stanley, Mullin, Wood, Brougham, Arnold--all gone. And there Pfaff and
I, sitting opposite each other at the little table, gave a remembrance
to them in a style they would have themselves fully confirm'd, namely,
big, brimming, fill'd-up champagne-glasses, drain'd in abstracted
silence, very leisurely, to the last drop.


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