Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-05-24

"A ring AZ the door Dell Drought young man,
hatess and coatless, to answer our summons
He politely asked Us in, but shade of doubt
gath cred over his face when we said We had
come on pilgrimage to the old poet and
wanted a talk with him upon some of the
questions that are interesting the world Of let
tiers today. We we're ushered into little sit
ting room and were greeted by lady and
gentleman seated opposite each other, gazing
out upon the street, and seemingly taking life
easy.
II am afraid" said the lady, .'that Mr.. Whit
man is so i'll that you will not be able to see
him. But l will tell him that you are visitors
from New York, and see what he says. / may
add, however, that his doctors have instructed
me not to allow him to talk very long
We handed our cards to the lady in apollo
getic way, and as she glanced at them and saw
that we were newspaper writer's, she said as
smile passed over her face: "Do not ask him
the old questions about his appetite and his
seasickness if he will see you, but talk to him
about something pleasant-about poetry, about
some OF the men and women he knows, about
the flowers, the birds, anything, in fact, but
himself"
In few minutes she returned with the an
nouncement that Mr.. Whitman would be glad
to see US in his room upstairs. "You may have
just two minutes with him" she said, 'for he
ID very feeble"
THE POET AT HOME.
We walked up two half flights Of narrow
wooden stairs and were at the chamber Of the
poet. In response to our knock there was a
pleasant Come H." The room seemed at the
first glance to be almost square, with low
ceiling and two windows looking into the
street. There sat the venerable good gray
poet in large arm chair wearing light blue
blanket oyercoat or dressing gown. He made
a splendid picture as he sat there with the
morning sunligh: dancing in and out Of the
room and making grotesque figures on the
wall He had a Ieonine look. His long white
hair fell partly over his face. And such a face!
Strong, manly and full of human nature.
His gray beard, thick and fluffy, seemed to
be scattered all over his huge chest HIS shirt
was wide open at the throat, exposing his large
neck and part of his bosom. His steel gray
eyes snapped with pleasure as he extended his
large arm and big right hand. He did not look
decrepid. There was rudy glow upon his
cheeks as II he had been exposed to the sun.
He moved his arms easily, and in the brief
conversation that ensued he would put his ri CHIT
hand to his forehead, as if pausing to think
before speaking. His lower limbs were covered
by some kind of cloth stretched loosely over
his knees.
If lie could have stood up straight he would
have measured nearly six feet in height and
exhibited the frame Of q man who, even now
at seventy years Of age, weighs 200 pounds.
Rscked with pain and rheumatic govt
hs ss w5I BEefS sr mos AND stout stout
Sat weaving thoughts from fancy's loom.
Gliding away like summer streams,
And in his soul vision came
Or honor, friends and lasting fame.
HIS BED ROOM.
We sat down near him and looked at his sur
roundings. The little room was almost covered
with papers. magazines and periodicals. They
lay around in heaps, on the floor and on the
tables and evidently had not been moved for
many months. In fact, there was nothing to
admire about the disorder Of the room. The
poets bed was on one side of the room, not in o
corner, but half way between one Of the win
dows and the entrance door. 1t was about the
only object in the room free from papers and
periodicals. A clean white counterpane was
neatly spread over it and tucked in carefully at
the side. Right in front Of the poets chair
was . large table, with pyramid of old papers
| on 1t. At the base Of the pyramid there was
enough clear space left on the table for the
bard to lean over and write his name. His
hands are not paralyzed and he can write his
signature in bold, legible hand, which often
he kindly does for autograph collectors. There
was no attempt at brc-a-brac, pictures or fairy
| lamp ornamentation in the room. The walls
were bare. Several chairs were scattered about,
ana the poets pipe and tobacco lay carelessly
| on small table.
II am glad to see you; sit down." said Mr..
whitman after cordial handshake. Leaning
back, he said he was unable to get to his bed, a
lew feet away, without assistance.
IL would like to talk to you at length and
oeA many QuestlOub, OUT i CaQuOt, said.
Say to the boys that my heart is in the high
lands with them. You see, am whacked and
banged up so with paralysis that am not fit
Tor anything. 1t 10 the direct result of my war
| experience many years ago. My brother was
wounded and went to him. exposed N.Y.
| SELF and from that time have never been
the hale and hearty man that was previously.
sit here from day to day, read the papers
when can and keep quiet Not long ago
went TO Philadelphia and had something to saw
before club. 1t 10 great trial for me 20 get
| away from my room. do not write any now
ana have nothing unpublished"
| HIS rRIENps.
The poet paused, put his hand 10 his head q
brief moment and in answer TO questions said:
''Yes, have many visitors and it warns the
cookies OF my heart to have my friends drop In
and shake me by the hand. Sir Edwin Arnold
called upon me and We had . friendly time Of
| ~ have never read his Light Of Asia but /
have heard others speak highly Of its msrits.
| Arnold writes 70 me now and then. Yes ]
have met . good many poets in my time, but ]
cannot talk at any length about them. The
apostle, or rather the former apostle, of 60.
thetcism-Oscar Wilds-ts Q friend OF mine.
| Ike Oscar Wilde very much and have had
| some genial, companionabls hours with him.
Outside OF his long hair-he has IL cut now
| and his Bunthorne attitudinixinG have found
him = whole-souled and natural fellow. Ar.
mold, OF course. have not seen - much Of q
| Wilde, but like him."
/ M. Whitman then spoke Of being in New
| York over two vaAPn aO0 and ek;uc "a