
A quiet dull day with me—bad obstinate cold in the head, the old inveterate constipation, & bad kidney tribulation, day & night—but I am up & dressed & sitting here by the fire, & my bird is singing cheerily behind my big chair—I send you Kennedy's and Rhys's and O'Connor's last letters—return me the printed Nation slip (wh' you may have seen before)—
Rhys is to be communicated with at present, care of Kennedy, as you will see—Morse is still at Richmond, Indiana—yours of rec'd, acknowledg'g "Time" &c.—poor Harry Stafford's throat trouble is the same as ever—
Walt WhitmanA letter rec'd from Fredk W. Wilson of Glasgow, encouraging me to go on & get subscribers for my "Walt Whitman,"— saying that I may announce his name as publisher, & that he will receive subscriptions, & announce that work in his lists.
This afternoon I came home early & wrote off a rough draft of a circular for above purpose.
When Rhys comes he & I will talk it over.
Wd you be willing (I hardly dare to ask it) to send me for two yr book of addresses (sent by Express at my cost)—so I
cd send out the circulars? Or shd I have to come on & copy them out of it in yr study?
I read to-day yr beautiful little poem in The Century. (I keep up my bibliogr. record always (in the "Whitman")]
I made a trip to the art museum recently to see Gen. C. G. Loring, the Director, about the bust. Will report later. Baxter has gone to Arizona, & left bust in my care. With heartiest love & greetings & Happy New Years I am as ever yr faithful son, & lover
Wm S. KennedyMy idea is to charge $5. or a guinea for the vol. & print it in good style.
Subscribers' names be sent to me and to Wilson, and to Ernest Rhys c/o Walter Scott. (if I cd arrange with Rhys)

Back here again last night—after a fine time of it at Mrs. Nordhoff's, where everyone was so kind & the fun so continued all day long, that I did not find time to write you even a line.
There were some jolly young fellows there, & some splendid girls, but among the last
I think Alys Smith may be said to have "taken the cake." Dressed as Portia, when a Shakespeare masquerade (in which everyone took some part from the plays) was being enacted, it would have delighted your eyes to see her dance,—"A wild Bacchante passionate of foot!"—The house itself stands on the Palisades of the Hudson, about 500 feet or so above
the river on a steep cliff, commanding a superb view right over to the sea & far away up & down the Hudson. The place would
have thoroughly suited you for a camping spot.
Passing through New York yesterday, in a bright, splendid sunlight, the rush of life in Broadway made me wish you could have been with me there.
After the stupid, half-&-half pretence of Philadelphia, the reckless, go-ahead life in New York is very refreshing. Tell this not to the Philadelphians!
No letters arrived at Alpine Bergen for me,—so I suppose none have reached you! If there are any waiting now, will you mail them on here. I expect to go to Boston on Friday or Saturday—after which my address will be to the care of Kennedy at Belmont.
I hope you are feeling well these bright days. I am trying to persuade myself that from this New Year forward everything is to be first-rate with me & with all my friends—in the higher, eternal sense, if not always & altogether in the other!
With much love, Ernest RhysBest rememberances to Mrs. Davies Davis !

A Happy New Year!
I send you the article on Mrs Gilchrist's book from the Nation, for which I have never ceased hunting, and which I found where it had no business to be. You will observe that the holy Father sprinkles us with an aspergillus full of ice water. The cold impudence of that Nation surpasses.
Sometime when you are sending you can return me the article for my collection.

I have for some time wanted to write to you, but have been strangely ill, and only just able to walk through the office duties. I keep up my spirits as well as I can, but find it all pretty depressing.
The article by the wretch named Willard in the American Magazine filled me with indignation. What a beast a man must be who comes to you with a letter of introduction, and goes off to caricature and lampoon you in a magazine!
I hope you have read "King Solomon's Mines." It is
immense. I have read it forty times, I do believe. The battle chapters let one into
the spirit of Homer as the translations cannot do. I wish somebody would rightly
review it for the benefit of the Boston school.
I see the little pieces you send forth. "Yonnondio" is beautiful. The Boston Advertiser, which also has for you an aspergil of ice-water, copied it, which is an act of tribute.—I think your term, "Shakespeare-Bacon," will stick to Verulam. Donnelly is, I guess, in England, getting out his English edition. I have not heard from him since October, and await his movements on tiptoe.
I hope you are keeping reasonably well. Au revoir.
Always affectionately WDO'Connor Walt Whitman.