This is the title-page of a small ed'n of Nov: B. in Scotland I tho't might amuse you—My physical trouble has veer'd quite entirely lately, or more truly added to, & is now that senile botheration from prostrate or enlarged or inflamm'd gland, bladder business, diabetes—or other worse or less worse form of ailment—Dr Osler was here this afternoon, & is to bring over a surgeon expert on 5th P M for more concise examination—It has resulted the last four nights in quite no sleep, wh' is a pretty bad factor in my complication—
Have succeeded in a cheap & initiatory dress (binding) for the big book—(trilogy the proof reader at the office calls it)—wh' I am now only waiting the hard press'd binders (at present) to achieve & put in form, & I will send you one—each of you dear ones for Christmas—(& good much may it do you)—The more elaborated court dress with frills, yet waits before desperate vacancy & uncertainty—
Dec: 4 10 a m—have finish'd my breakfast—two or three nice stew'd oysters—some coffee & Graham bread—better to-day—a fair night this last, & fair sleep—The gland suffering or whatever it is—the distressing recurrent stricture-like spasms ab't from three to ten minutes almost continuously the last five days & nights—have let up—& the parts at present seem to be assuming something like normal condition—I am sitting in my big chair by the fire, the stove—it is sharp & cold, bright & sunny—Ed Wilkins (my young Kanuck, my nurse & helper, Dr B. sent) has just come in to tell me the result of an errand—& so monotonously my thread winds on—
My friends Mr & Mrs: Harned have a new: born son—every thing working well—poor Dave McKay (he appears to be a good husband &c) has had a dreadful time with serious sickness of wife—pronounc'd out of danger yesterday—Horace continues helpful & faithful—Love to you all & as I finish this scrawl glad to give you as I write the assurance of my comfortableness—
Walt WhitmanKennedy, please send this to John Burroughs—J B, please send to O'Connor—O'C, please send to Dr Bucke—my Ed W. has gone to the printer & binders for me & I sit here alone, slight headache.—