
I am really at a loss how to begin this letter or how to write it. My reception here has been
such that I am absolutely dumbfounded. I got here about noon yesterday (I ought to say that I had a telegram at Queen's town
from Johnston to say that Wallace & he would meet me at L. pool if I wd let
them know the time of my arrival, but I did not think it well
to give them that trouble & came through alone)—Johnston & Wallace met me at the Station.
It was a fine day and I went around the town with Dr J. while he made his daily visits.
Sat in the carriage while he went in the houses. We went to a hotel to dinner—then 8 of us went for
a 20 mile drive through as picturesque a country as I have seen any where—had tea 8 miles from here with
another Whitman friend (Rev. Thompson) then he came to Bolton with us. By this time it was after 8 o'clock
and on reaching Johnston's house we found half a room full of men waiting for us—from then to midnight
was constant talk, songs, recitation, supper, and good fellowship generally. You are right to say that the Bolton
friends are true and tender—they are that and if there are any stronger words you may use them!
Most of the evening I laughed
and the rest of it I could have cried their warmhearted
friendship for you and for me was so manifest and so touching. I enclose a song which they had composed &
set to music and which the whole room sang together in the middle of the evening—of course I made a speech
of thanks and two other quite long speeches in the course of the evening—and I really spoke quite decently!
a wonderful thing for me. You will of course, dear Walt, show this letter to Horace as there
is no use my writing it over again to him.
I trust you are no worse than usual—and that I shall find you to the fore when I return in September.
Nothing to tell about the meter yet.
Wallace slept here last night, he and Johnston desired me to say that they might not have time to write you today
and wished me to give you their love and assure you of their
devotion to you and the cause—and indeed, Walt, it looks as if the thing had come here
to stay—I was to say, too, to you & Warry that the canary had come safe—not even
the glass cracked! And that it was warmly appreciated. And I want you to tell Mrs Davis that they all know her here
and feel very friendly towards her.
I think I have said all I can say at the present moment—will soon write again
I send you my love, dear Walt, and sign myself yours till death R M Bucke
P.S. I read the message from you to the boys here (in your letter of early July) yesterday evening—the boys were very much affected by it—they have taken the letter from me to facsimile that part of it so that they may each have a copy
RMBIf it were even possible for you to come to England the fellows would go clean crazy about you.

Sung to "The March of the Men of Harlech" Welsh National air
The College Welcome to Dr. Bucke
17 July 1891
Comrade—stranger, glad we greet you, One and all are pleased to meet you, Cordial friendship here shall treat you, Whilst with us you stay. Friend of Walt! Be that the token, That enough our hearts to open, Though no other word be spoken Friends are we alway. Friendship let us treasure, Love to greatest measure, Comrades true our journey through: Life's thus made a pleasure. Hail! to Whitman, lover's poet! There his portrait. All well know it To the world we gladly show it Proud his friends to be.

