The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-08-04
-r.,r wH1rnaANs NOVEMBER.
Fbe Poet Rallies From His Illness and
Is at His Work Again.
From the PhtladeIphid Press

nina Po6I n6lkl6S TOn x1l6 4lk6056 dil0
Is at His Work Again.
From the Philadelphia Press.
About six weeks ago the children on
Mtckle street, below Fifth street, in Camden,
we're asked to play on the north side of the
street. for Walt Whitman, the poet, whose
frame house stands on the south side,
vasil. A few days since the children took
their velocipedes and skipping ropes back to
tbe south side, for the poet was much better.
Since the Sd of June his big armchair,
~yhicn has stood for so many years facing
the window on the first floor, has been
emnty. and the frame of the window has
lacked the picturesque, kindly face, with its
background of flowing white hair. On that
day Mr.. Whitman was stricken and has
Lept his bed over since until Monday. The
noet was spending the day, Sunday, as has
heen his custom for the last four years, with
friend. Thomas Harmed. During the
afternoon he drove ont in his carriage with
onother close friend, DIR. Richard M. Buck,
n London, Ont After the drive the par
tial paralysis came on and with it an in
conference of thought and speech which
threatened to leave the poets mind in state
of coma
DIR Buck is the surgeon general of the
dominion of Canada and a specialist on
diseases of the mind He has studied Mr..
Whitman's case, and on the evening of the
attack advised the poets friends to talk and
question him uninterruptedly, that his mind
might be kept awake and his thoughts act
i've
The week following was filed with pre-
monitory symptoms and at the end Of the
seven days the stroke Of paralysis came in
all it's severity. and the poet was relegated
to his bedroom with DR.. N. M. Baker to
nurse him.
The nurse found his position something
of a sinecure, for his patient would have
none of him and it was only by anxiously
watching for an opportunity that the young
doctor was ever able to render the poet a
service. Mr.. Whitman's life is a solitary
one and he has grown independent of ply
seal aid. Though very old man, he pre-
ferred to help himself rather than rap with
his big cane, which is always at his elbow,
for others. In the morning the sound of
his shoe on the bare floor of his bed room as
he completed his toilet by stamping his foot
in it was the first intimation the nurse
would receive that his patient was up and
doing. The poet likes to be alone, unless his
friends are his companions, and of late
months rarely sees the casual visitors who
cross the river to see the man whose books
they may have read and whose personality
they may admire.
PECULiARITIEs OF HIS LIFE
Alone with his housekeeper he reigns I'M
disturbed in the two-story frame house
editing his random verses and ESSAYS and
watching the children from his leather
chair at the window. In the morning after
breakfast his housekeeper asks him with
as much regularity and solemnity as though
she were saying grace:
And what will to-day bring forth, Mr..
WhitmanP
II wonder, Mary" the poet returns, as he
rises from the table. For three years this
little dialogue has been spoken. 1t shows
Walt Whitman's "sweet content with each
day of what he calls the closing season of
his life. One Of Mr.. Whitman's closest
friends says that the first intimation he re-
ceived of the poets recovery was when he
noticed that the mass of books, newspapers
and manuscripts which litter the front sit
ting room had broken forth in the invalid's
bedroom, and swamped it, Mr.. Whitman's
study, or wherever he works, is the ideal of
that multitudinous individuals opinion-the
general reader's--of what literary mans
Workshop should be. He believes that the
place for anything is the place where he
puts it, and his housekeeper dares not for
her life's sake tidy up" the heaps of papers,
books and pamphlets which fill his room.
During his illness he rose at or 10 and
read his letters as he ate his breakfast. Aft
or breakfast he showed the diversity of his
choice in newspaper literature by reading In
past days the poet read the papers through
out, to-day he but skins them, sufficiently
however, to talk intelligently on all that
most deeply interests the public. In the aft
ernoon he wrote letters to his friends, an
swering the many notes of inquiry and
sympathy that his illness had called forth.
AT WORK ON HIS NEW BOOK.
In the evening Horace Traubel, the treasur-
er of the Contemporary club and one of Mr..
Whitman's oldest young friends, would as
sist the poet in editing his new book. When
one of the reporters called to see Mr.. Whit
man the other day he found him sitting in
an armchair in his bedroom with the proof
sheets up to his knees. A wIiting-pad was
OH his knee and numerous photographs of
Elias Hicks, of whom the poet was writing
were scattered over the room. The poet has
fallen away somewhat since his illness. He
spoke slowly and with apparent difficulty
81 call it my war paralysis, " said the poet.
"The doctors and | have agreed to call it
that and perhaps you had better use the
term. 1t came Immediately after the war.
! was filled with emotion, with excitement,
hope and energy then. l thought all
America was going to the bad. 1t has Wis
tied me six or seven times since, leaving me
each time q little weaker and Shaker. This
time has been p city bad one-as bad as
any Of them. And then old age and-and
infrmities all make me a little weaker.
have been prisoner in this room for six
weeks, but we think we are going to make a
little rally
you see, we are at work, he added,
raising the writing pad in his lap.
And what is the book going to containg'
some one asked.
Essays and swept-up memoranda" re-
turned the poet: 'poetry, additional poems
fit to be put on as an annex to Leaves of
Grass would have had it finished if this
trouble had not caught me tripping. We
have decided to call it November Boughs.
1t will have tinge of the closing season
about it,"
A ONE-EYED ROMANCE.
Begun Years Ago in Austria and End