And so, hail
and farewell. Deeply acknowledging this deep compliment, with my best
respects and love to you personally--to Camden--to New-Jersey, and to
all represented here--you must excuse me from any word further.
"INTESTINAL AGITATION"
_From Pall-Mall Gazette, London, England, Feb 8, 1890_ Mr. Ernest
Rhys has just receiv'd an interesting letter from Walt Whitman, dated
"Camden, January 22, 1890." The following is an extract from it:
I am still here--no very mark'd or significant change or
happening--fairly buoyant spirits, &c.--but surely, slowly ebbing.
At this moment sitting here, in my den, Mickle street, by the oakwood
fire, in the same big strong old chair with wolf-skin spread over
back--bright sun, cold, dry winter day. America continues--is
generally busy enough all over her vast demesnes (intestinal agitation
I call it,) talking, plodding, making money, every one trying to
get on--perhaps to get towards the top--but no special individual
signalism--(just as well, I guess.)
"WALT WHITMAN'S LAST 'PUBLIC'"
The gay and crowded audience at the Art Rooms, Philadelphia,
Tuesday night, April 15, 1890, says a correspondent of the Boston
_Transcript_, April 19, might not have thought that W. W. crawl'd out
of a sick bed a few hours before, crying,
Dangers retreat when boldly they're confronted,
and went over, hoarse and half blind, to deliver his memoranda and
essay on the death of Abraham Lincoln, on the twenty-fifth anniversary
of that tragedy.
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