FEINBERG/WHITMAN DIARIES etc. Diaries June-Aug. 1880. Diary in Canada. Vol. 1. (DCN 63) Box 2 Folder 2Walt Whitman[picture] Walt Whitman London Sept 22 1880 280 DUNDAS ST LONDON, ONTARIO WALT WHITMAN Diary in Canada Original Manuscript 1880 This Diary was Edited by Wm. Sloane Kennedy and Published in 1904. by Maynard Small & Co. BostonWalt Whitman in London, Sept. 22, 1880 280 DUNDAS ST., LONDON, ONTARIO WALT WHITMAN Diary in Canada Original Manuscript 1880 This Diary was Edited by Wm. Sloane Kennedy and Published in 1904 by Maynard Small & Co. Boston[*1*] 1880 Canada Calm and glorious roll the hours here — the whole twenty-four. June 18 — A perfect day (the third in succession), [still and] cloudless, the sun clear, fair, fresh, and just palpable air, setting in from the southwest, temperature pretty warm at midday but moderate enough mornings and evenings. Everything grows well — especially the perennials -- Never have I seen [verdure and] grass and trees and bushery to greater advantage. All the accompaniments joyous. [Color,] Cat-birds, thrushes, robins &c. singing. [joyously]. The profuse blossoms of the [orange and] tiger lily, (is it the tiger lily?) mottling the lawns and gardens everywhere with their glowing orange red. Roses everywhere too.Asylum for the Insane, London, ____________________________________18_______June & July Canada '80 Such a procession of long-drawn-out, delicious [?] [most of next text covered by a slip of paper reading the following] p 2 compare [?] never mind [?] every evening on till most last [half] two weeks of June It was worth coming [south] long stretch'd temper'd shade lingering lingering twilights if nothing more.June & July Canada '80 Such a procession of long-drawn-out, delicious [evenings] half-lights [closing] nearly every [day] evening, continuing on till 'most 9 o'clock all through the last [half] two weeks of June and the first two of July! It was worth coming to Canada to get these [sooth?] long-stretch'd [evenings] sunsets in their [lingering] temper'd shade and lingering, lingering twilights, if nothing more.[*4*] [*< no date>*] Canada It is only here in large portions of Canada that wondrous second wind [of summer], the Indian Summer) attains its amplitude and heavenly perfection, -- the temperature, the sunny haze, the mellow, rich, delicate, almost flavored [of the] air: "Enough to live -- Enough to merely be." See page 774 Vol 4 Enc: Brit: for a ¶ on timber rafts on the St L[*6*] Canada '80 Sunset on the St Clair July 19 -- Sunset I am writing this on Front street close by the river, the St Clair, on a bank. The setting sun [is] a great blood red ball of [fire] is just descending on the Michigan Shore, [leaving] throwing a bright crimson track [in the] across the water to where I stand on the bank. The river is full of row-boats.7 and shells, with them [tight] crews of young fellows, or single ones out practising, a handsome, inspiring sight. Up north [?what is the many?] I see [the] at Port Edward on Canadian side. The tall Elevator in Shadow with tall square turret like some old castle. As I write a long shell, with its (light) dressed crew of four [with nothing] stript to their rowing shirts, sweeps swiftly past [me] their oars rattl'g in their rowlockson the Michigan Shore [*8*] Opposite, a little south stretched [?] Port Huron. It is a still, moist voluptuous evening. the twilight deepening apace. In the vapors fly bats, and myriads of big insects, A solitary robin is whistling his call, followed by mellow clucks, [no] in [a] some trees near. The parting of the locomotive and measured roll of cars, comes from [Michigan] over shore. and occasionaly an abrupt [whis] snort [from the] or screech diffused in space. With all these utilitarian episodes [*9*] It is a lovely, soft, soothing voluptuous scene, [and] --a wondrous half-hour for sunset and then then the long rose-tinged half-light [stretch] [gray] with a touch of gray, we sometimes have stretched out [fr] [Fr?] in June, [so long after] at day-close. [the sunset] -- How musically the cries and voices floating in from the river [I] Mostly while I have been here I have noticed [over] those [as on?] [score of] handsome shells and [row-] oar-boats [Many] some of them rowing [maga finely] superbly -- [some now and then a single rower]10 -- [the] [As me] At [half-past eight] nearly nine, it is still quite light, [th] [though] tempered with blue film, but the boats, the river, and the Michigan shores. [all] quite palpable. The [A great] [The western] rose-color [has] still falls [nift?] upon every thing. A big river steamer is crawling [up], athwart the stream hoarsely hissing The [l] moon in its third quarter is just up behind me. [O] From over in Port Huron come the just - heard sounds of a brass band, practicing. Many objects, half-burnt hulls [some] partially sunk wrecks, slanting[*11*] or upright poles, throw their black shadows in strong relief on the clear glistening water[*12*] A far-off reminiscence [*[London Canada]*] June 20 - [*[1880]*] - I see to day in a New York paper [to-day] an account of the tearing down of [the] [the] [wi] old St. Ann's church, Sands and Washington streets, Brooklyn, to make [on] room for [a landing and roadway for] the East River Bridge landing and roadway. Away [here] from here, nearly 1000 miles [off] distant, it roused the queerest [old] reminiscences, which I feel to put down and send. [It] St Ann's was [quite] a [stately building, and] twined with manymemories of youth' to me. I think the church was built about 1824, the time when I - [at that] [time] (a little [one] child of 6 years) [first went] was first taken to live in Brooklyn, and I remember it so well then and for long years afterwards. [Its] It was a stately building, with its broad grounds and [trees] grass, and the aristocratic congregation, and the good [Mr] clergyman, Mr. McIlvaine, (afterwards Bishop of Ohio) and the [building] long [building] edifice for [a] Sunday School, (I had a pupil's [so] desk there) and the fine gardens and many big willow and elm trees in the neighborhood. From St. Ann's [it] started, over 50 years ago, [the] a strange and solemn military funeral, [that] of the officers and sailorsAsylum for the Insane, London, 18killed by the explosion of the U.S. steamer Fulton at Brooklyn Navy Yard. I remember well the impressive services and the dead march of the band, (moving me even, then to tears) and the led horses and officers trappings, in the procession, and the black-draped flags and the salutes over the grave, in the ancient cemetery in Fulton street, just below Tillary, (now all built over by solid blocks of houses, and busy stores.) I was at school as the time of the explosion, and heard the rumble which jarred half the city. Nor was St Ann's (Episcopal) the only 15 church, [with] bequeathing old Brooklyn reminiscences. Just opposite, within stone's throw, on Sands street, (with a high range of steps, [was] stood the main Methodist [temple] church, always [with] drawing full congregations, always active, singing and praying in earnest! and the scene [in] of [those days of] the powerful revivals of those days, (often continued for a week, night and day, without in termission.) This latter was the favorite scene of the labors of John N Maffit, the famous preacher of his denomination. (It was a famous church for pretty girls). [The] The history of those two churches would be [the] a history of [The] Brooklyn, [for] [for] and of a main part of its families, [of] for the earlier half of [its] the nineteenth centuryAsylum for the Insane, London, 18{from Sarnia} 16 A moonlight excursion up Lake Huron June 21- [A moonlight excursion up Lake Huron] We were to [go] start at 8 p.m., but after waiting forty minutes later for a [ban] music-band, which, to my secret satisfaction, didn't come, [and] we and the Hiawatha went off without it. Point Edward on the Canada side and Fort Gratiot on the Michigan [form] [are] the crossing line for the Grand Trunk RR and looking well-alive with lights and the sight of shadowy-moving cars, were quickly passed between by our steamer, after pressing through [the] currents of rapids for a mile along here, very dashy and inspiriting- and we were soon out on the[*17*] wide [stretch] sea-room of the Lake. The far and faint-dim shores, the cool night-breeze, the plashing of the waters, and, most of all, the [hour-high] well-up moon, full and round and refulgent, were the features of [our] this pleasant water-ride, [on the Hiawatha] which lasted till midnight.18 During the day I had seen the magnificent steamboat City of Cleaveland come from above [down] and after making a short stop at Port Huron opposite, sped on her swift and stately way down the St Clair; she [had] plies between Cleaveland and Duluth, and was on her return from the latter place-makes the voyage in three? days. At a Sarnia wharf I saw the Asia [here] a large steamboat for [the] Lake Superior trade and passengers; understood there [are] were three other boats on the line. Between Sarnia and Port Huron some nice & small sized ferry boats are constantly plying. I went aboard the "Dormer" and made an agreeable hour's jaunt to and fro, one afternoon.19 a Sarnia Public School Stopt impromptu at the school in George where I saw crowds of boys out at recess, and went in without ceremony among them, and so inside, for twenty minutes to the school, at [it] its studies, music, grammar, &c. Never saw a healthier handsome, more intelligent or decorous collection of boys and girls, some 500 altogether. This twenty minutes' sight, and what it inferred, is among my best impressions and recollections of Sarnia.20 Wm Wawanosh over 400 Indians [*Sarnia June '80*] Ah me je wah noong i.e. Rapids Chief Sumner at present 4 miles by 3 along the St Clair pop of Sarnia [bet?] 5000 The whole Dominion four & a half millions Ontario nearly two millions21 Went down to an Indian settlement at Ah-me-je-wah-novay, (the Rapids) to visit the Indians The Chippewas; [there w] Not much to see of novelty - in fact nothing at all of aboriginal life or personality; but I had a fine drive with the gentleman that took me. Dr McLane, the physician appointed by the government for the tribe. 22 there is a long stretch, [of land] three or four miles fronting the [lake] St Clair, south of Sarnia, running back easterly nearly the same distance, good lands for farming and [a] rare sites for building-- and this is the "reservation" set apart for these Chips. There are said to be 400 of them, but I [did] could not see evidences of one quarter of that number. There are three or four neat third- class wooden dwellings a church and council house23 but the less said about the rest of the edifices the better. "Every prospect pleases," as far as land, shore and water are concerned, however. The Dominion government keeps entire faith with [them.] these people, (and all its Indians, I hear,) preserves these reservations for them to live on, [and] pays them regular annuities, and wherever any of their land is sold [pet] puts the proceeds strictly in their funds. Here they farm languidly, (I saw some good wheat) [and] fish &c. but the young men generally go off to [for] hire as laborers and24 deck-hands on the water. I saw and [talked] conversed with Wa-wa-nosh the interpreter son of a former chief. He talks and writes as well as I do. In a nice cottage near by lived: his mother, who dont speak any thing but Chippewa. There are no very old people. I saw one man of 30, in the last stages of consumption. This beautiful and ample tract, in its present undeveloped condition in quite an eyesore to the Sarnians.25 Tennyson's "De Profundis" June 24 - To-day I spent half an hour (in a recluse summer-house embowered} [as] leisurely reading Tennyson's new poem "De Profundis". I should call the piece, [a] (to coin a term) a specimen of the mysticals recherché- and a mighty [superb] choice specimen. It has [some] several [?] [sparklin] exquisite little [presentations of] verses, not simple like rose-buds, but gem-lines, like garnets or sapphires, cut by [an] [water] a lapidary artist. These, for instance, (some one has had a baby:) "O young life Breaking with laughter from the dark" "O Dear Spirit half-lost In thine own shadows and this fleshly sign that thou art thou - who wailest being born." Then from "The Human Cry" attached: "We feel we are nothing - for all is Thou and in Thee; We feel we are something - that also has come from Thee." [The piece [????] It sounds like organ playing.] Some cute friends afterward said it was altogether vague and could not be grasped. Very likely; it sounded to me like organ playing capriccio, which also can not be grasped.Asylum for the Insane, London 18[*26*] Ontario Canada The Stars night of Saturday July 3 good night for stars & heavens perfectly still & cloudless fresh & cool enough [Twilights] evenings very long, [a] pleasant twilight till 9 o'clock, all through the last half of June & first half of July[*47*] A long, long twilight after sunset, sometimes lasting till 9 o'clock. These are my most pleasant hours. The air is pretty cool, but I find it enjoyable, and like to saunter the well-kept back roads. The volume of the rivers, lakes ie. [are all full] here, is at its fullestAsylum for the Insane, London, 18Ontario Canada July 3 '80 [*28*] Jul 3 '80 - Saturday night - Went out [tonight] about 10 on a solitary ramble in the grounds slow through the fresh [night air of] air, over the gravel walk and velvety grounds with many pauses, many upward gazings. It was again an exceptional night for the show and sentiment of the stars -- very still and clear, not a cloud, and neither warm nor cold. [The] High overhead the constellation of the Harp; [hung overhead;] south of east, the Northern Cross -- in the Milky Way the Diadem -- and more to the north Cassiopea; [and] [?] bright Arcturus and silvery Vega dominating aloft. But the heavens everywhere [the Milky Way the Diadem] studded so thickly -- [great] layers [o upon] on layers of phosphorescence, spangled with those still orbs, emulous, nestling so close, with such light and glow everywhere, flooding the soul[*29*] Sunday evening July 4 '80 A very enjoyable hour or two this evening. They sent for me [this evening] to come down in the parlor to hear my friend, M. E. L. a deaf and dumb young woman give some recitations, (of course by pantomime, not a word spoken) She gave first an Indian legend, [very] [pretty], the warriors, the women, the woods, the action of an old chief, &c, very expressive. [Then] But best of all, and indeed a wonderful performance, she rendered Christ stilling the tempest (from Luke is it?)30 [London] Canada July 6 '80 Haymaking - July 5, 6, 7, - I go out every day [for] two or three hours for this spectacle [of in the] [hay fields] - [a] a sweet, poetic, practical, [?] busy sight. Never before [were] [there] such fine growths of clover and timothy everywhere as the present year; and I never saw such large fields of rich grass as on this farm. I ride around in a low, easy basket-wagon3 drawing by [with] a sagacious pony ; we go at random [every] [where - ] over the flat just-mown [odorous] layers and all around through lanes and across fields. [The great] The [odor] smell of the cut [field] herbage, and the whirr of the mower [the p] the [rock] trailing swash of the [rake] horse-rakes, [the wag] the forks of the busy pitchers & the loaders on the wagons - I linger long and long to absorb them all. Soothing, sane, odorous hours! Two weeks of such* you look out over the lawn any time and can see from four or five to a score then hopping about. * It is a great place for birds, (no gunning here, and no dogs or cats allowed) - I never before saw so many robins nor such big fellows nor so tame.* I never [be] before heard [the] singing wrens (the common house wren I believe) either- to such advantage. [There are two specimens at houses I have staid -] [many times] - two of them these times on the verandas of different houses where I [was] have been staying- such [a] vigorous, musical well-fibred little notes! (What must the winter wren be, then - they say it is far ahead of this)33 Canada - July 8 '80 Haymaking - [Ea]* Any hour I hear the sound of scything sharpening [a scythe] or the [the] distant rattle of [the] horse-mowers Or see the [po] the loaded [hay] wagons, high piled, slowly wending toward the barns, or [at] toward sun-down groups of [sweaty] tan-faced men going [home] from work. * I am in the midst of hay-making. and though but a looker-on I enjoy it greatly, untiringly, day after day,[*34*] [The] To day (July 8) we are indeed [in] at the height of it here in Ontario -- a week of perfect[*36*] [The] A muffled and musical clang of the cow-bells, from the grassy wood edge not far distantCanada - July 80 35 (in blossom now) Lilium Aurantium a native of Italy 3ft-35 yellow-red lilies great profusion Lilium Aurantium Minton 2ft Lilium [Buschaninnii?] little yellow flower [corsantimum ?] same as I saw Sept '79 [Burridgeannus?] yellow [?] [?] flower blue, 4 feet high great profusion Delphinium Blue flower wild tausy weed [abt] from 10 to 15 inches high, white blossom, out in July (middle) in Canada37 July 10-14-Canada '80 the [blue flower] Delphinum flower paramount and profuse with its clear blue yellow lilies profusion of white verbenas [prettily] delicately spotting the green lawns many straw colored hollyhocks many [rose] like roses - [lots] [clusters] others pure white lots of them beautiful clustered everywhere on the thick [lines] [of the] dense hedge-lines [everywhere] aromatic white cedars at evening Canadian red honey suckle roses have been in great profusion but now fewer38 July 10-14 - Canada - '80 [on] the fences, [and] verandas, gables covered with grape-vines [and] ivies, honeysuckle - a certain clematis (the Tuck Mann's) bursting all over with [its] [long-lasting] deep-purple [blossoms] blossoms, [with them] each with its four (or five) great [blossom] leaves, [tough, but] delicate as some court lady's dress, but tough and durable, day after day . . . . . - I afterwards saw a [wh] large [white] six-leaved? on of pure satin-like white - as beautiful a flower as I ever beheld.40 July 13-14 '80 Canada The Virginia Creeper " Canadian honeysuckle " petunia the little trumpet-shaped petunia with its red and white quarterings at nights, the aromatic smell of the white cedar oceans of milk white verbanas, and [count??] oceans of salmon-colored and scarlet ones -[pure] vast spread of pure sky overhead, of limpid pearly hue and other vast spread, here in these spacious grounds of well kept, thick close- cropt grassy lawns.35 ? Glendale *the [long clear] [long continued] reiterated [graves] notes. of the robin, firm clear & mellow & [continued] reedy notes - [used elsewhere W.S.K] [no date]. ["] In the woods, [cloudy] the days cloudy and moist, but mild & pleasant-the undisturb'd rankness of every thing - the delicious aroma of the pines in the sweet air - [the] distant [sounds] shouts from the play-ground of a country school - [enough] [birds] in the recesses to the left a bird whistling sharply at intervals - to the [left] right *(up) - (then back) x2John Emery 578 Lesc street 24th wardCanada July 18 '80 Swallow-Gambols.--July 18-- [For] I spent a long time to-day I [have been] watching [the what I name at the head of this parag] the swallows-- an hour this forenoon, and another hour, afternoon. There is a pleasant secluded, close-cropt grassy lawn of a couple of acres or over, flat as a floor, & surrounded by a flowery and bushy hedge, just off the road adjoining the house -- a favorite spot of mine. Over this open grassy area, immense numbers of swallows have [to-day] been sailing, [circ] darting, circling and cutting large or small 8's and S's close to the ground, for hours to-day. It is evidentlyfor fun altogether. I never saw anything prettier - this free Swallow - Dance. They kept it up too the greater part of the day.[*London Ontario Canada.*] The Free Press Saturday, June 5, 1880. WALT. WHITMAN. Interview with the Author of "Leaves of Grass." How he Commenced to Write and the Way his Works were Received; His War Experience and the Book He Wrote About it. What He Thinks of Himself and Sev- eral Other Authors HIS APPEARANCE AND A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE-- A LONG VISIT TO CANADA. After the series of letters which appeared in these columns, some months ago, and what has been said from the lecture plat- form, anything concerning Walt Whitman, the eminent American poet will, it is pre- sumed, be read with interest. It was with this idea before him that a FREE PRESS re- porter boarded the G. W. R. Pacific ex- press at Paris yesterday evening, on which the venerable author of "Leaves of Grass" was coming westward. After seaching in vain through several of the drawing room cars, Mr. Whitman was found on the plat- form of the rear Wagner surveying the beautiful hills around Paris, in company with his personal friend, Dr. R. M. Bucke, Medical Superintendent of the London Lunatic Asylum. No introduction had yet taken place, but there was not mistaking the old gentleman. He was every inch of him a poet--the ideal poet that one out- lines in his mind, but seldom hopes to see. In stature he is about five feet nine, broad shouldered, straight and of ordinary proportions. His hair is long and like his whiskers is of snowy whiteness. His ex- pressive face bears the ruddy glow of health, and when his small blue eyes meets those of his visitor the formalities of an intro- duction and handshaking seem ridiculous ly unnecessary; for you are friends in a moment. He was dressed in a very light colored tweed suit, and wore a broad, light felt, planter's hat. His white shirt was out in true sailor style, opening low down upon his breast, and with the collar rolled put upon his coat lappels. The whole dress _______________________________________________ with the white flowing hair and whiskers were suggestive of a nature that one is afterwards agreeably surprised not to meet with. A better natured, jollier, more honest out speaking gentleman could not be met with. Instead of that stiffness which might be supposed to come of long continued popularity, there is a warm familiarity that makes his visitor feel perfectly at home. A card was handed to Dr. Bucke, who spoke a few words in private to Mr. Whit- man. Without waiting for further formal- ities, the poet reached out his hand, and, with a slight American accent, said, warm- ly:-- "Most happy to meet you. I'm one of the fraternity myself. Been a newspaper man most of my life. You wish to have an item about me? Well, I never go back on a newspaper man. Come right into the car." "Well, this is taking time by the fore- lock," said Dr. Bucke, with a laugh. "How did you know we were aboard the train?" "Oh, you trust a newspaper man to know when an item of news is about to turn up," explained Mr. Whitman. "They know it by instinct." The ice had been broken with a sudden- ness that knocked the reporter's list of nicely prepared questions clear out of his memory; but when seats had been taken vis-a-vis, the first interrogation was evol- ved in rather jerky Canadian:-- "This is n ot your first trip to Canada, Mr. Whitman?" "Oh, no. I was at the Falls for a few days in 1847, but made nothing like the trip I am making now. I had been in the South, and returned home by way of Buffalo and the lakes." "You are an American, Mr. Whitman; born at West Hills, Suffolk Co., L. L., in 1819, I believe?" "Yes you have the historical part of it all right. And I am a printer, too, and am not ashamed of it. I worked at it for sev- eral years, and would do considerable at it yet if I was a little more industrious." "The writing of poetry would not be assisted by mechanical work, would it?" "Oh, I don't think you are right in sup- posing that to be the case," answered Mr. Whitman. "My theory of poetry is that it is not all incompatible with labor and all that accompanies it. Oh, no; poetry and work are not necessarily separated; they may go together quite harmoni- ously." "When did you commence 'Leaves of Gras?'" was asked. It was not the next question in the original list, but it was the only one that could be thought of. "In 1855--just twenty-five years ago. It has been supplemented by several editions since, however, written at different periods and extending over many years. "What were the inspirations which led you to write it?" "You will beat me if you find that out," broke in Dr. Bucke. "The doctor has been trying to glean that information from me all the way from Philadelphia." said the poet. "I have been curious to solve that problem myself, and should like to know the answer very much. You may say that the first edition was printed by the critter himself." "How was it received?" "Well, my friends don't like me to speak much on this point; but with a desire to be strictly truthful, __________________________________________ I must say that it was received both in Europe and America, with kicks and buffets, and I came near being kicked and buffeted myself for writing it. There was, however, an exception among a small but determined minority of persons, who seemed to take kindly to it." "What class of people would you call them?" "No particular class," was the reply. "They were those who seemed to have found an--I know no better word to use than--affinity. I suppose, partly because I have so much persistence and willingness, I kept on printing other editions. It pleased me and pleased this small minority of friends. The last two editions, however, have been received with a more marked and determined advocacy by my readers. The minority, although still small, has assumed more respectable proportions--I hope I may always say respectable so far as quality is concerned-- and particularly so in Europe." "Rather than in your own country?" "Yes, I think so, although my friends on this side of the water don't want me to ad- mit it." "What would you attribute that to?" "Not to anything in particular," said Mr. Whitman, as he seemed to be getting into a favorite subject. "There is young blood coming in, not only in our own country, but in Europe. Young fellows are coming forward without sufficient strength to maintain themselves against the authority of orthodoxy; but the boys are growing. Aside from that, that, however, I have a great friend in Zola, the French author, who has written to me twice saying that he swears by 'Leaves of Grass.' Ferdinard Freiligrath was also a great friend of mine." "Oh, most of the distinguished literary men are readers and admirers of 'Leaves of Gras," said Dr. Buck rather enthusiasti- cally. "Tennyson, and--' "Well, Tennyson has not put himself on record," explained Mr. Whitman. "He has the judgment to like me personally, but has never committed himself with re- gard to my works. Ruskin, however, has recorded himself as my friend." "You were also a nurse during the war," put in the reporter, by way of information to the venerable poet, but more especially with a view to receiving an answer. "Yes; I look upon that as the best part of my life, those four or five years that I spent in the war, not as a destroyer, but as far as possible, a saver of life. I follow- ed the army of the Potomac from field to field, until Grant took command. I left then because he didn't want interference from outsiders, and because I found a wider field at Washington. I went to and fro among the wards as an independent nurse; on my hook, as the soldier said who laid behind a log and fired away without listening to any captain's orders. If it comes in, you may just say that Walt Whitman looks on those four years of his life with more satisfaction than on his literary triumphs, although he has a pretty high idea of his own works. I have thought many times lately that I should look upon my life as a very dreary and barren if it were not for those four years. About three years ago I was turn- ing over my [?????] of manuscript, when I came upon thirty or forty little note books that I [????? a??d] during those years among the wounded in the hospitals. It struck me that those would make a nice little book if printed. I gave them to myold printer blood-stained and blurred as they were, and this book, 'Memoranda of the War,' was the result." There was a cessation of the interview for a few minutes while the reporter turned over a few of the leaves of the book handed him. Mr. Whitman looked out of the window on the surrounding scenery and continued:- "I feel to travel-to go about. You may say, in fact, that with true American in- stinct I feel like lecturing. I generally despise lecturing; but old age is garrulous, ad wants to talk. I am getting more confidence now. I need to doubt whether it was worth while to write-whether my own experiment was a success. "You wrote in a somewhat peculiar style, it is said, and without rhyme?" "Yes; there is no rhyme in it, and a good many people say no sense, but if you ask me the reason, I shall be unable to answer you. I may say, however, that the basis of my poetry is humans fraternity comradeship-I like that word. I was working at carpentering and making money, when this 'Leaves of Grass' bee came to me. I stopped working, and from that time my ruin commenced." "I would like to get a few more men ruined by that means," put the doctor, with a laugh. "Many of my friends and relations were very angry about it," continued the poet. "Thought you were throwing away your life, did they?" asked the doctor. "Yes; I was, too, from a business point of view. I went down to Long Island on a long, cold bleak promintory, where but one farmer reiudes, and I lived there while 'Leaves of Grass' was gestating. I wrote my first copy and threw it into the sea." "What made you destroy it?" "Well, I said to myself what bet- ter is this than the thousand other poems, and tore it up. I knew I had an idea that had not both expressed by other poets, so I tried three or four more times, until at last the illustrious work--I may say--appeared. At present, although my friends are greatly in the minority, they are determined and persistent, and curious as it may appear, has among them a great many ladies." "Was there much difference between those first writings and the final issue?" "Yes; there was in some respects; but I was determined that nothing bitter or that would cast reflection on my country should appear." "Intensely loyal, eh?" "Well, when I was young I had an in- tense anti-slavery spirit, which was shown in my writings. Since that time I have been down South, and found out that there was not more slavery there fifty years ago than there is to day in the North. Legally, however, the blacks were slaves. To be brief, however, I think the idea of my book is conveyed in that one word 'com- radeship'." "Did you see any of the controversial letters which appeared in the [F???] Press some time ago, regarding your writings?" inquired the reporter, as he was repairing the broken point of his pencil. "Yes," answered the poet, "I saw one or two of them; but I don't read much. I'm not a great ready by any means.' "What books do you like best?" "Well, I would say first Walter Scott, _______________________________________ as a poet and a novelist. About half a dozen of his books I have read over and over again, and from among them I have taken 'The Heart of Midlothian' as my favorite. George Sands is a great favorite. I like Shakespeare and the good old book of all, the Bible; it is a poem to me. I also like Homerio poetry." "What do you think of Dickens?" "Well, I am not an admirer of his, but easily see why his works take and ought to take. At the same time, I wouldn't like to go on the record as not being an admirer of Dickens, Bret Harte, and that class of humorists. They offend my democracy, however. They present the most of work- ing people in a kind of delirium tremens spirit. I cannot read Bret Harte without feeling angry, because he seems to have taken the Homeric poetry as his basis, and turned it into a burlesque with the hero- ism left out." "Humorous literature, however, is be- coming very popular." "Yes," said the poet, "it is, and I say nothing against it. But, they seem to car- icature those miners and working people. I admire heroism, and do not care to see them presented as ruffians or as super king like drunken men. In fact, I think the language of those strong working people is better than the general lingo that is used in our drawing and lecture rooms. It is really more expressive. I am myself of a race of working people." "How did you like newspaper work?" was asked with a view to changing off from what gave symptoms of becoming a discussion. "I enjoyed it well," was the reply, "and always keep my hand in. I consider my- self a newspaper man, as well as a printer. I know numerous printers, and we soon fraternize. "How long will you remain in London?" "Oh, I shall be here for some time. My object is to meet the Canadians face to face and to see the country. I like to go about; like to meet young men; like to have them drop in on me just as you have done to-day. I take a pleasure in conversing, and you will be a living witness of the fact that I can do my share of the talking." "Many friends in Canada?" "Well, I really believe I have more than I first supposed. Yes, I have quite a number." In the strain the old gentleman spoke throughout without the least presumption or endeavor to be anything but an off-hand poet, who knew the material world as well as he did the region of imagination. In passing Ingersoll he spoke of Bob Ingersoll, the great American lecturer. He re- garded him as a wonderfully witty man and a speaker possessed of great magnetism. He reminded him, however, in his treat- ment of the subject in hand, of a doctor who cuts away at the pimples on a man's skin instead of commencing at his system. He only told about one-tenth of the story. In conclusion it may be said that Mr. Whitman's home is in Camden, N. J., where he lives a quiet life among his friends. From 1865 until 1874 he was is the employ of the American Govern- ment at Washington, and during 1873 was stricken with paralysis. He is still lame from the effects of the stroke. He is a thorough [?conversationlist], and a jolly com- panion.June 18 - 1880 Canada. Calm and glorious roll the hours here - the whole twenty four. A perfect day (the third in success- -ion) cloudless, the sun clear, a faint, fresh, just palpable air setting in from the Southwest, temperature pretty warm at midday but moderate enough mornings and evenings. Everything growing well, especially the perennials - never have I seen verdure grass and trees and bushery to greater advantage. All the accompaniments joyous. Cat-birds, thrushes, robins &c. singing. The profuse blossoms of the tiger lily, (is it the tiger-lily?) mottling the lawns and gardens everywhere with their glowing orange red. Roses everywhere too. June and July '80 Canada. Such a procession of long-drawn-out, delicious half-lights nearly every evening, continuing on till most 9 o'clock, all through the last two weeks of June and the first two of July! It was worth coming to Canada to get these long-stretched sunsets, in their temper'd shade and lingering twilights, if nothing more. [No date] (Canada. It is only here in large portions of Canada that wondrous second wind of summer, the Indian summer, attains its amplitude and heavenly perfection, - the temperature, the sunny haze, the mellow, rich, delicate, almost flavored air: "Enough to live - enough to merely be.") See page 774 Vol. 4. Enc. Brit. for a ¶ on timber-rafts on the St. L. June 19 '80 - Canada. On the train from London to Sarnia - 60 miles. A fine country many good farms, plenty of open June 18 - 1880 Canada. Calm and glorious roll the hours here - the whole twenty four. A perfect day (the third in succession) cloudless, the sun clear, a faint, fresh, just palpable air setting in from the Southwest, temperature pretty warm at midday but moderate enough mornings and evenings. Everything growing well, especially the perennials - never have I seen verdure grass and trees and bushery to greater advantage. All the accompaniments joyous. Cat-birds, thrushes, robins &c. singing. The profuse blossoms of the tiger lily, (is it the tiger-lily?) mottling the lawns and gardens everywhere with their glowing orange red. Roses everywhere too. June and July '80 Canada. Such a procession of long-drawn-out, delicious half-lights nearly every evening, continuing on till most 9 o'clock, all through the last two weeks of june and the first two of July! It was worth coming to canada to get these long-stretched sunsets, in their temper'd shade and lingering twilights, if nothing more. [No date] [*(*] Canada. It is only here in large portions of Canada that wondrous second wind of summer, the Indian summer, attains its amplitude and heavenly perfection, - the temperature, the sunny haze, the mellow, rich, delicate, almost flavored air: "Enough to live - enough to merely be." [*)*] See page 774 Vol. 4. Enc. Brit. for a [?] on timber-rafts on the St. L. June 19 '80 - Canada. On the train from London to Sarnia - 60 miles. A fine country many good farms, plenty of openland, - the finest strips of woods, clean of underbrush - some beautiful clusters of great trees; plenty of fields with the stumps standing, some bustling towns. Strathroy, Watford, Point Edward this side, Fort Gratiot the Michigan. Grand Trunk. July 19 '80 Canada. Sunset on the St. Clair. I am writing this on Front Street close by the river the St. Clair on a bank. The setting sun, a great blood red ball is just descending on the Michigan shore throwing a bright crimson track across the water to where I stand. The river is full of row-boats, and shells, with their crew of young fellows, or single ones, out practising, a handsome, inspiriting sight. Up north I see at Point Edward, on Canada side, the tall elevator in shadow with tall square turret like some old castle. As I write a long shell, with its crew of four stript to their rowing shirts, sweeps swiftly past, their oars rattling in their rowlocks. Opposite, a little south, on the Michigan shore, stretches Port Huron. It is a still, moist, voluptious evening, the twilight deepening apace. In the vapors fly bats and myriads of big insects. A solitary robin is whistling his call, followed by mellow clucks, in some trees near. The panting of the locomotive and measured roll of cars, comes from over shore, and occasionally an abrupt snort or screech, diffused in space. With all their utilitarian episodes it is a lovely, soft, soothing,voluptuous scene, a wondrous half-hour for sunset and then the long rose-tinged half-light with a touch of gray, we sometimes have stretched out in June at day close. - How musically the cries and voices floating in from the river. Mostly while I have been here I have noticed those handsome shells and oar-boats some of them rowing superbly.- At nearly nine, it is still quite light, tempered with blue film, but the boats, the river, and the Michigan shores, quite palpable. The rose-color still falls upon every thing. A river steamer is crawling athwart the stream, hoarsely hissing. The moon in its third quarter is just behind me. From over in Port Huron come the just heard sounds of a brass band, practising. Many objects, half-burnt hulls, partially sunk wrecks, slanting or upright poles, throw their black shadows in strong relief on the clear glistening water. [London, Canada,] June 20- [1880]. A far-off reminiscence. I see to-day in a New York paper an account of the tearing down of old St. Ann's Church, Sands and Washington Streets, Brooklyn, to make room for the East River Bridge, landingm and roadway. Away from here, nearly 1000 miles distant, it roused the queerest reminiscences, which I feel to put down and send. St Ann's was twined with many memories of youth to me. I think the church was built around 1824, the time when I (a little child of 6 years) was first taken to live in Brooklyn, and I remember it so well then and for long years afterwards. It was a stately building, with its broad grounds and grass, and the aristocratic congregation, and thegood clergyman, Mr Mc.Ilvaine, (afterwards Bishop of Ohio) and the long edifice for Sunday School, (I hap a pupils desk there) and the fine gardens and many big willow and elm trees in the neighbourhood. From St. Ann's started, over 50 years ago, a strange and solemn military funeral of the officers and sailors killed by the explosion of the U.S. steamer Fulton at Brooklyn Navy Yard. I remember well the impressive services and the dead march of the band, (moving me even then to tears) and the led horses and officers trappings, in the procession, and the black-draped flags, and the old sailors, and the salutes over the grave, in the ancient cemetery, in Fulton street, just below Tillary, (now all built over by solid blocks of houses, and busy stores.) I was at school at the time of the explosion, and heard the rumble which jarred half the city. Nor was St. Ann's (Episcopal) the only church, bequeathing old Brooklyn reminiscenses. Just opposite, within stones throw, on Sands street, with a high range of steps, stood the main Methodist church, always drawing full congregations, always active, singing, and praying in earnest, and the scene of powerful revivals of those days, (often continued for a week, night and day, without intermission.) This latter was the favorite scene of the labors of John N. Maffit, the famous preacher of his denomination. (It was a famous church for pretty girls.) [?] The history of those two churches would be a history of Brooklyn, and of a main part of its families, for the earlier half of the nineteenth century.[from Sarnia.] A moonlight excursion up Lake Huron. June 21. We were to start at 8 p.m. but after waiting forty minutes later for a music- band, which, to my secret satisfaction, didn't come, we, and the Hiawatha went off without it. Point Edward on the Canada side and Fort Gratiot on the Michigan, the crossing line for the Grand Trunk RR and looking well- alive with lights, and the sight of shadowy-moving cars, were quickly passed between by our steamer, after pressing through currents of rapids for a mile along here, very dashing and inspiriting - and we were soon out on the wide searoom of the Lake. The far and faint-dim shores, the cool night-breeze, the plashing of the waters, and most of all, the well-up moon, full and round and refulgent were the features of this pleasant water-ride, which lasted till midnight. During the day I had seen the magnificent steamboat City of Cleveland come from above, and after making a short stop at Port Huron opposite, sped on her swift and stately way down the St. Clair; she piles between Cleveland and Duluth, and was on her return from the latter place - makes the voyage in three (?) days. At a Sarnia wharf I saw the Asia, a large steamboat for Lake Superior trade and passengers; understood there were three other boats on the line. Between Sarnia and Port Huron some nice small-sized ferry boats are constantly plying. I went aboard the "Dormer" and made an agreeable hour's jaunt to and fro, one afternoon.A Sarnia public School. Stopt impromptu at the school in George where I saw crowds of boys out at recess, and went in without ceremony among them, and so inside, for twenty minutes to the school, at its studies, music, grammar, &c. Never saw a healthier, hansomer, more intelligent or decorous collection of boys and girls, some 500 altogether This twenty minutes' sight, and what it inferred, is among my best impressions and recollections of Sarnia. Sarnia June '80. Wm. Wawanosh. over 400 Indians. Ah me je wah noong. i.e. Rapids. Chief Sumner at present. 4 miles by 3 along the St. Clair. Pop. of Sarnia 5000. the whole Dominion four and a half millions. Ontario nearly two millions. Went down to an Indian settlement at Ah-me-je-wah-noong, (the Rapids) to visit the Indians, the Chippewas, Not much to see of novelty - in fact nothing at all of aboriginal life or personality; but I had a fine drive with the gentleman that took me, Dr Mc Lane, the physician appointed by the government for the tribe. There is a long stretch three or four miles, fronting the St. Clair, south of Sarnia, running back easterly nearly the same distance, good lands for farming, and rare sites for building - and this is the "reservation" set apart for these Chips. There are said to be 400 of them, but I could not see evidences of one quarter of that number.There are three or four neat third class wooden dwellings, a church and council-house, but the less said about the rest of the edifices the better. "Every prospect pleases," as far as land, shore and water are concerned, however. The Dominion government keeps entire faith with these people, (and all its Indians, I hear) preserves these reservations for them to live on, pays them regular annuities, and when- ever any of their land is sold, puts the proceeds strictly in their funds. Here they farm languidly, (I saw some good wheat) fish, &c. but the young men generally go off to hire as laborers and deck-hands on the waters. I saw and conversed with Wa-wa-nosh the interpreter son of a former chief. He talks and writes as well as I do. In a nice cottage near by lived his mother, who dont speak any thing but Chippewa. There are no very old people. I saw one man of 30, in the last stages of consumption. This beautiful and ample tract, in its present undeveloped condition is quite an eyesore to the Sarnians. June 24. Tennysons "De Profundis." To-day I spent half an hour, (in a recluse summer-house embowered,) leisurely reading Tennyson's new poem "De Profundis". I should call the piece, (to coin a term) a specimen of the mystical-recherché - and a mighty choice specimen. It has several exquisite little verses, not simple like rose-buds, but gem-lines, like garnets or sapphires, cut by a lapidary artist. These, for instance, (some one has had a baby:)" O young life Breaking with laughter from the dark!" " O dear Spirit half-lost In thine own shadow and this fleshly sign That thou art thou - who wailest being born." Then from " the Human Cry" attached: "We fell we are nothing - for all is Thou and Thee: We fell we are something - that also has come from thee." Some cute friends afterward said it was altogether vague and could not be grasped. Very likely; it sounded to me like organ-playing, capriccio, which also can not be grasped. Ontario, Canada. The Stars. night of Saturday July 3rd. good night for stars and heavens perfectly still and cloudless fresh and cool enough; evenings very long - pleasant twilight till 9 o'clock, all through the last half of June and first half of July. A long, long twilight after sunset, sometimes lasting till 9 o'clock. These are my most pleasant hours. The air is pretty cool, but I find it enjoyable, and like to saunter the well-kept roads. July 3 '80. - Saturday night. Went out about 10 on a solitary ramble in the grounds, slow through the fresh air, over the gravel walks and velvety grass, with many pauses, many upward gazings. It was again an exceptional night for the show and sentiment of the stars - very still and clear, not a cloud, and neither warm nor cold. High overhead the constellation of the Harp; south of east, the Northern Cross - in the Milky Way the Diadem - andmore to the north Cassiopea; bright Arcturus and silvery Vega dominating aloft. But the heavens everywhere studded so thickly - layers on layers of phosphorescence, spangled with those still orbs, emulous, nestling so close, with such light and glow everywhere, flooding the soul. Sunday evening, July 4 '80. A very enjoyable hour or two, this evening. They sent for me to come down in the parlor, to hear my friend, M.E.L. a deaf and dumb young woman give some recitations, (of course by pantomime, not a word spoken). She gave first an Indian legend, the warriors, the women, the woods, the action of an old chief, &c. very expressive. But best of all and indeed a wonderful performance, she rendered Christ stilling the tempest (from Luke is it?) [London] Canada July 6 '80. Haymaking.- July 5,6,7-I go out every day two or three hours for a spectacle. A sweet, poetic, practical, busy, sight. Never before such fine growths of clover and timothy everywhere as the present year; and I never saw such large fields of rich grass as on this farm. I ride around in a low, easy basket-wagon drawn by a sagacious pony; we go at random, over the flat just-mown layers and all around through lanes and across fields. The smell of the cut herbage, the whirr of the mower, the trailing swish of the horse- rakes, the forks of the busy pitchers, and the loaders on the wagons - I linger long and long to absorb them all.Soothing, sane, odorous hours! Two weeks of such. It is a great place for birds, (no gunning here, and no dogs or cats allowed) - I never before saw so many robins, nor such big fellows, nor so tame. You look out over the - lawn any time, and can see from four to five to a score of them hopping about. I never before heard singing wrens (the common house wren, I believe) either - to such advantage - two of them, these times, on the verandahs of different houses where I have been staying - Such vigorous, musical well-fibred little notes! (What must the winter wren be, then - they say it is far ahead of this.) Canada - July 8 '80. Haymaking. I am in the midst of haymaking and though but a looker-on I enjoy it greatly, untiringly, day after day. Any hour, I hear the sound of scythes sharpening, or the distant rattle of horse-mowers, or see the loaded wagons, high-piled, slowly wending toward the barns, or toward sun-down groups of tan-faced men, going from work. To-day (July 8) we are indeed at the height of it here in Ontario - a week of perfect A muffled and musical clang of cow-bells from the grassy wood-edge not far distant. July 10 - 14 Canada '80. the delphinium flower paramount and profuse with its clear blue. 4 feet high. yellow lilies. (in blossom now) yellow-red lilies great profusion.profusion of white verbenas, delicately spotting the green lawns. many straw colored hollyhocks many like roses - others pure white. Lots of them beautiful clusters everywhere on the thick dense hedge-lines. aromatic white cedars at evenings. Canadian red honeysuckle. roses have been in great profusion, but now fewer. [Lilium Anrantium a native of Italy. 3 ft. Lilium Aurantum Minor. 2ft. Lilium Buschanium. 1 ft. Casnudium Burridgeamum yellow coreopsis like flower. Delphinium blue flower.] [All these names of flowers written in another handwriting.] wild tansy weed from 10 to 15 inches high white blossom, out in July (middle) in Canada. July 10-14 - Canada - '80 the fences, verandahs, gables covered with grape vines, ivies, honeysuckles. - a certain clematis (the Jack Manni) bursting all over with deep purple blossoms each with its four (or five) great leaves, delicate as some court-lady's dress, but tough and durable, day after day, . . . . - I afterwards saw a large six-leaved (?) one of pure satin-like white - as beautiful a flower as I ever beheld. July 13-14 '80. Canada. The Virginia Creeper. The Canadian honeysuckle. The petunia the little trumpet shaped petunia[*46*] with its red and white quarterings. At night the aromatic smell of the white cedar. oceans of milk white verbenas, and counter oceans of salmon- colored and scarlet ones. vast spread of pure sky overhead of limped pearly hue, and other vast spread, here in these spacious grounds, of well kept, thick, close cropt grassy lawns. ? Glendale. [no date.] In the wods the days cloudy and moist, but mild and pleasant - the undisturbed rankness of everything - the delicious aroma of the pines in the sweet air - distant shouts from the playground of a country school - in the recesses to the left a bird whistling sharply at intervals - to the right reiterated the notes of the robin, clear and mellow and reedy. Canada July 18 '80. Swallow- Gambols. I spent a long time to-day watching the swallows - an hour this forenoon, and another hour afternoon. There is a pleasant secluded close cropt grassy lawn of a couple acres or over, flat as a floor, and surrounded by a flowery and bushy hedge, just off the road adjoining the house - a favorite spot of mine. Over this open grassy area, immense numbers of swallows have been sailing, darting, circling and cutting [*large or small*] 8's and S's close to the ground, for hours to-day. It is evidently for fun altogether. I never saw anything prettier - this free swallow-dance. They kept it up, too, the greater part of the day.L3920