Walt was an invalid and infirm, nevertheless when he was equipped and started he could go unaccompanied to Philadelphia and other nearby places. This enabled him to call upon friends, transact matters of business and keep in touch with the world generally. Sometimes he would take an extended ride on a street car, but the greatest source of enjoyment to him was a trip back and forth on the Delaware River. From the ferry boat he could feast his eyes upon ships--"those floating poems" (_his own words_)--either in the distance or passing close at hand. And here he was sure to meet some old acquaintance or to make a new one, and so feel himself still a factor in the busy bustling life around him. Pleasant as were these rides to him, each one brought more or less tribulation to Mrs. Davis, for governed as he apparently was by the impulse of the moment, she was never given warning of his intentions or allowed time for preparations. His excursions therefore were a trial she had not counted upon. He would not mention the ferry, or hint of going there, until he was seated at the table, or more likely had finished his breakfast. This made much extra running up and down for Mary, who could have simplified matters by having him dressed to begin with for the weather and the occasion. This did not seem to occur to him. Crippled, slow, and requiring so much assistance, and feeling that neither his own time nor that of anyone else was of much account, it was often past noon before he was ready for the start. Then Mrs. Davis, who always saw him safely on the street car, would hurriedly don her outer garments, for Mr. Whitman had little patience with delay in other people. The housekeeper helping the poet down the front steps was a sight none of the neighbors would willingly lose, therefore the couple always sallied forth under the musketry of glances shot out at them from every direction. When walking in the street Mr. Whitman carried his cane in one hand, and with the other he clung tightly to the arm of his companion. His size and weight (even now, in spite of his invalidism, he weighed two hundred pounds) would have made a fall a serious matter. The street cars--horse cars, running at fifteen minute intervals--on their way to the ferry crossed Mickle Street at the first corner above. If unfortunately one was missed, it seemed a long and tedious wait for the next. To Mrs. Davis this was both tiresome and embarrassing; embarrassing because of the lookers-on, and tiresome because during the delay Mr. Whitman depended mainly upon her arm for support. All the conductors knew the picturesque old man, and were obliging and attentive to him. When he was entrusted to their care Mrs. Davis had nothing to fear; she was also confident that he would find a helping hand wherever he might go, so quickly doing her buying and errands she would hasten home, where a myriad of duties awaited her.