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  Walt Whitman, Camden, N.J. Dear Mr. Whitman—

I have taken so much pleasure of late in re-reading your work that I would not render my spiritual dues did I not write to you to thank you, for   so making me see America. I live in a quiet way, shun literary society, but gather around me those who are interested much in the spiritual problems of life. Like you I believe all things to be spiritual, and all things possible to creative spiritual power. I have   read "Pioneers, O Pioneers" over and over again to my many friends, who study not books but life. The poem is a trumpet tone, and it will lead the new poets of America.

You have caught the spirit of the genius of our land, and have sung the song of the latest and   finial march of the races. Tacoma, Seattle, Vancouver and Victoria face Asia, and in these cities is Ultimate America, and you have sung the march of the races towards the Puget Sea. I met Joaquin Miller at Tacoma last summer, and there dreamed over   again your dream of America.

I love to read your address to time, and to quote "I once was visible." I have your picture in my room, and I never see it or take up your book without feeling what a glorious knighthood it is to be an American. I   send you a few poems of my own. I shall be glad if they please you.

Immortality—I wish I knew how you view it now in your serene years, when the drum taps have ceased. I hope that the doors open wider and wider as you go on, and that so it   may be forever.

I am not a person that makes literary visits, but I wish that I could meet you this summer, on my return from Montana. Whether we ever meet or not, I thank you for the inspiration I   have caught from your torch of life, and am ever,

faithfully and affectionately yours, Hezekiah Butterworth.