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  54 Manchester Road, Bolton, England. My Dear Old Friend

Again have I to thank you for your kindness in writing to me. Your p.c of June 18th reached me on the evening of June 29th while J.W.W—who had dropped & had tea with me—& I were sitting here talking about you; thus realizing the old proverb—"Speak of the Angel & you hear the flap of his wing!"

Its arrival then was doubly welcome & we thank you most cordially for it.

Wallace at once took a rough facsimile of it for himself.

 

We are especially pleased with the brightness & cheeriness wh: pervades it—W. called it "a reamer!"—& for the good spirits in which you evidently were at the time of writing & to which the presence of those "two dear little boys" & "their delicious chatter" no doubt contributed.

God bless them for cheering you with their childish prattle; & may it be long before their young hearts lose their freshness and charming naiveté.

And they are fortunate little boys too, though of course they cannot know that; but some day when they are grown up   they will perhaps think so & be able to tell their little boys that they were friends of Walt Whitman!

We rejoice to hear that you were "emerging as before" from the prostration of those "fearful, unprecedented, three days' hot spell" which "pulled you down like a pack of hounds" & we hope soon to hear of your getting out & enjoying the fresh air with all its delights.

Do you know that this is the anniversary (by the day of the week, tho' it is tomorrow by the calendar) of my sailing from England to America, last year?   Today I have been pondering over the events of that ever memorable month of July 1890; beginning with the long sea voyage, during which you were so often the topic of talk on board & you were my chief object of desire for so many days; thinking of the time when I sat for countless hours [illegible] the ship's prow, facing America & watching our steel Leviathan wedging her way thro' the green waters of the broad Atlantic, & every moment bearing me nearer and nearer to you; when, anchored in the Delaware I lay in my berth and   looked across the water at the gleaming lights of Camden where I knew you were; when, next morning I ferried the River, booked at the West Jersey Hotel & with a palpitating heart made my way to 328, Mickle St. & was at length shewn up stairs by Warry, heard your welcoming words:—"Come in, doctor! Come right in!" and was received by you with such open-hearted loving-kindness, not once but many times.

When I think of   those two happy, happy days I spent with you & all you have been to me since, my heart swells with reverential grateful love to you, my Benefactor, my dearest & best friend.

How appropriate are your words!—

"Out of the rolling ocean the crowd 
  came a drop gently to me
Whispering I love you, before long 
  I die,
I have travel'd a long way merely 
  to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once 
  looked on you,
For I feared I might afterwards 
  lose you.
  Now we have met we have look'd, 
  we are safe
Return in peace to the ocean 
  my love
I too am part of that ocean 
  my love, we are 
  not so much separated
Behold the great rondure, the cohesion 
  of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistable 
  sea is to separate us
As for an hour carrying us diverse 
  yet cannot carry us diverse for ever."

Though we shall probably never see each other again with mortal eyes, yet "we shall surely meet again"!'

Later

A good letter just to hand from H.L.T. from wh. I am glad to note that he thinks you are "much better this last   ten days"—letter dated Jn 22nd & wh I took to the train by wh. JW.W leaves town. Had a few minutes there with him & have since recd a telegram from him wh. says that he has recd the "Good-Bye," & the Pictures & asks me to thank you & Traubel for all—

I am glad to say that the effects of my accident are passing off.

Disappointed at not finding H.L.T's articles in July Lippincott

My best love to you now & always, Yours affectionately J Johnston