
Well here I am, feeling fairly, commencing my 71st year. The dinner last evening came off & went off, all right, & was a great success—they say they had a mighty good dinner (nothing to drink but Appollinaris water)—I was not at the eating part, but went an hour later—Ed wheel'd me in the chair, & two policemen & two other good fellows just carried me from the sidewalk, chair & all as I sat, up the stairs & turning (which were fortunately wide & easy) to the big banquet hall & big crowd, where I was roll'd to my seat, & after being rec'd with tremendous cheering they bro't me a bottle of first rate champagne & a big glass with ice, (Tom Harned sent to his house for the wine)—The whole thing was tip top & luckily I felt better & more something like myself, and nearer chipper, than for a year—I made a short talk, wh' you will see in the paper I enclose—also Herbert's speech—It was largely a home & neighbors' affair (wh' I liked) although there were (& speeches from) outsiders—The compliments & eulogies to me were excessive & without break—But I fill'd my ice-glass with the good wine, & pick'd out two fragrant roses f'm a big basket near me, & kept cool & jolly & enjoy'd all—
I suppose you have the pocket-book copy L of G wh' I mailed yesterday—have just sold one & got the 5 for it—Hamlin Garland has been to see me to-day—also Tom Harned—The Phila: papers have long reports—a little rainy & broken to-day, but pleasant—
Walt Whitman
