t point where I can trust myself, and
leave off saying, "It seems to me," and boldly feel, It _is_
so TO ME. My character has got its natural regulator, my heart
beats, my lips speak truth, I can walk alone, or offer my arm
to a friend, or if I lean on another, it is not the debility
of sickness, but only wayside weariness. This is the
philosophy _I_ want; this much would satisfy _me_.

'Then Novalis says, "Philosophy is the art of discovering the
place of truth in every encountered event and circumstance, to
attune all relations to truth."

'Philosophy is peculiarly home-sickness; an over-mastering
desire to be at home.

'I think so; but what is there _all-comprehending_;
eternally-conscious, about that?'

* * * * *

'_Sept.,_ 1832.--"Not see the use of metaphysics?" A moderate
portion, taken at stated intervals, I hold to be of much
use as discipline of the faculties. I only object to them as
having an absorbing and anti-productive tendency. But 'tis not
always so; may not be so with you. Wait till you are two years
older, before you decide that 'tis your vocation. Time
enough at six-and-twenty to form yourself into a metaphysical
philosopher. The brain does not easily get too dry for
_that_. Happy you, in these ideas which give you a tendency to
optimism. May you become a proselyte to that consoling faith.
I shall never be able to follow you, but shall look after you
with longing eyes.'

* * * * *

'_Groton._--Spring has come, and I shall see you soon. If
I could pour into your mind all the ideas which have passed
through mine, you would be well entertained, I think, for
three or four days. But no hour will receive aught beyond its
own appropriate wealth.

'I am at present engaged in surveying the level on which the
public mind is poised. I no longer lie in wait for the
tragedy and comedy of life; the rules of its _prose_ engage my
attention. I talk incessantly with common-place people, full
of curiosity to ascertain the process by which materials,
apparently so jarring and incapable of classification, get
united into that strange whole, the American public. I have
read all Jefferson's letters, the North American, the daily
papers, &c., without end. H. seems to be weaving his Kantisms
i