Abstract
Oscar Wilde yesterday1 called upon Walt Whitman at his home in Camden,2 where he has lived for the past nine years, and the two poets discussed men and letters for nearly the entire afternoon. Remembering the value it would have been to the world now, had a record been made of Emerson’s celebrated visit to Carlyle, a Press reporter last evening obtained Whitman’s fresh impressions of the afternoon. The author of Leaves of Grass although partly an invalid, makes long jaunts, and has returned from his recent trip to New England in more vigorous physical health than since his paralysis of 1873.
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© Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan Publishers Limited 1979