Horace Traubel writes: "Warren Fritzinger, who attends upon Mr. Whitman and is provided for through a fund steadily replenished by a group of Walt's lovers--and who finds his services a delight--attests that whatsoever the hour or necessity, Whitman's most intimate humor is to the last degree composed and hopeful." ("_In Re Walt Whitman._") Others have written of this period as one of grave neglect; a time when the aged man was deprived of the care and comfort so essential to one in his condition. They underrated both his means and the attention lavished upon him. "He is old and poor," says one, "and were it not for small contributions from time to time from friends who sympathize with him in his poverty, age and helplessness, would actually suffer for the bare necessaries of life. For many years his income from all sources has not exceeded an average of two hundred dollars, which to a person in his helpless condition goes but a little way even in supplying the roughest and commonest of food and care." And again: "His wants are not many, for he lives simply from necessity and choice; but in his old age and constantly failing health, he needs that comfort and attendance which he has not the means to procure." The poet himself was neither discontented nor dull. As his infirmities brought new privations, he bowed to the inevitable. He missed the outdoor life keenly, but was grateful for such trips as he could get under Warren's care. As for indoors, conversations if protracted wore upon him, and he could no longer take part in them with anything of his old enthusiasm and vim. But there was no fundamental infirmity of mind, no childishness of senility; he was essentially young in his habits, thought and manner, and remained so until his death. Sometimes, indeed, the flame of mental energy rose high again; and it was never extinguished. "The body was fading; the vital parts seemed reluctant to die even in their own exhaustion. The soul, the mind, the man were there, and at times in full vigor, while the case was wrecked. Grandly and clearly his mentality stood above the slowly straining and wasting body." (_Thomas Donaldson._) But others suffered with and through him. Warren had relinquished hope after hope, had on several occasions abandoned his resolve to better himself and get married; his mother's entreaties and the reiterated promises and solicitations of Mr. Whitman's friends, especially his literary executors, were more than he could combat. But with all outward signs of contentment, the confinement soon left visible marks upon him; a second pair of rosy cheeks faded, and from handling the icy wood in the cellar a lasting cold was contracted.