"David Hume pronounced Whitefield the most ingenious preacher he had ever heard, and said it was worth while to go twenty miles to hear him. But perhaps the greatest proof of his persuasive powers was when he drew from Benjamin Franklin's pocket the money which that clear, cool reasoner had determined not to give."—Robert Southey.
Whitman (Walt, American poet and army nurse), 1819-1892. "O, he's a dear, good fellow," said of Thomas Donaldson, one of his most enthusiastic friends, and later his biographer.
There was a most pathetic incident connected with Mr. Whitman's death. It was related to me by "Warry" Fritzinger, his nurse. Warry had arranged a rope above Mr. Whitman's head, in the bed, which was attached to a bell below. He would pull this rope after he became weak, and thus ring the bell to attract attention. Prior to this time he had used his heavy cane to pound the floor with. This brought assistance at once. Just before he died, as the great change came over him—he was conscious that it was a great change, a something unusual (Mrs. Davis and Warry were by his side)—he seemed as if groping for something. Death had called for him, and as the call came, he attempted to reach above his head with one of his hands and feel for the rope, as if to call for help. In an instant the arm dropped, and soon he was dead.
Donaldson: "Walt Whitman the Man."
Whitman has, amid the fleshly and physical poems, much that is deeply spiritual; amid the tuneless and formless, much noble thought fitly voiced. The higher mood and the higher work may be seen in "O Captain! my Captain!" "Reconciliation," "Vigil on the Fields," "The City Dead-House," "Song of the Broad Axe," "Proud Music of the Storm," "The Mystic Trumpeter," "Seashore Memories," and the death-carols of the "Passage to India."
Welsh: "Digest of English and American Literature."
Whittier (John Greenleaf, distinguished American poet), 1807-1892. "I have known thee all the time," to his niece in response to her question, "Do you know me?"
Others say his last words were, "Give my love to the world."
Upon the silver coffin-plate was the inscription: "John Greenleaf Whittier, December 17, 1807, September 7, 1892." The face of the dead man wore an expression of peace and perfect repose. All around his head and body was a delicate fringe of maidenhair fern. Directly over his breast was a superb wreath of white roses, carnations and maidenhair ferns from that other loved poet and dear friend, for whom Whittier wrote his last poem, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes. Upon the lid was a cluster of white carnations from Mrs. Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward, and at the foot were two crossed palms with white lilies. At the last were roses and maidenhair ferns. A broad white satin ribbon encircled the palms and sprays, and upon the ends, delicately painted, were the inscriptions: "In memory of John Greenleaf Whittier, September 7, 1892," and this verse:
"Some sweet morning, yet in God's
Dim aeonian periods,
Joyful I shall wake to see
Those I love, who rest in Thee.
And to them, in Thee allied,
Shall my soul be satisfied."