Well I must send you all dear fellows a word from my own hand—propp'd up in bed, deadly weak yet but the spark seems to glimmer yet—the doctors & nurses & N Y friends as faithful as ever—Here is the adv. of the '92 edn. Dr Bucke is well & hard at work—Col. Ingersoll has been here, sent a basket of champagne. All are good—physical conditions &c. are not so bad as you might suppose, only my suffering[s] much of the time are fearful—Again I repeat my thanks to you & cheery British friends may be last—my right arm giving out—
Walt WhitmanFeb 7 Same cond'n cont'd—More & more it comes to the fore that the only theory worthy our modern times for g't literature, politics & sociology must combine all the bulk people of all lands, the women not forgetting—But the mustard plaster on my side is stinging & I must stop—Good bye to all—
W W