.
_Ay de mi!_

Within late weeks I have got my Horse again; go riding through
the loud torrent of vehiculatory discords, till I get into the
fields, into the green lanes; which is intrinsically a great
medicine to me. Most comfortless riding it is, with a horse of
such _kangaroo_ disposition, till I do get to the sight of my old
ever-young green-mantled mother again; but for an hour there, it
is a real blessing to me. I have company sometimes, but
generally prefer solitude, and a dialogue with the trees and
clouds. Alas, the speech of men, especially the witty-speech of
men, is oftentimes afflictive to me: "in the wide Earth," I say
sometimes with a sigh, "there is none but Emerson that responds
to me with a voice wholly human!" All "Literature" too is become
I cannot tell you how contemptible to me. On the whole, one's
blessedness is to do as Oliver: Work while the sun is up; work
_well_ as if Eternities depended on it; and then sleep,--if
under the guano-mountains of Human Stupor, if handsomely
_forgotten_ all at once, that latter is the handsome thing! I
have often thought what W. Shakespeare would say, were he to sit
one night in a "Shakespeare Society," and listen to the empty
twaddle and other long-eared melody about him there!--Adieu, my
Friend. I fear I have forgotten many things: at all events, I
have forgotten the inexorable flight of the minutes, which are
numbered out to me at present.

Ever yours,
T. Carlyle

I think I recognize the Inspector of Wild-beasts, in the
little Boston Newspaper you send!* A small hatchet-faced, gray-
eyed, good-humored Inspector, who came with a Translated
Lafontaine; and took his survey not without satisfaction?
Comfortable too how rapidly he fathomed the animal, having just
poked him up a little. _Ach Gott!_ Man is forever interesting
to men;--and all men, even Hatchet-faces, are globular and complete!

---------
* This probably refers to a letter of Mr. Elizur Wright's,
describing a visit to Carlyle.
---------

CIX. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, 30 April, 1846

Dear Emerson,--Here is the _Photograph_ going off for you by
Bookseller Munroe of Boston; the Sheets of _Cromwell,_ all the
second and part of the last volume, are to go direct to New York:
both Parcels by the Putnam conveyance. For Putnam has been here
since I wrote, making large confirmations of what you conveyed to
me; and large Proposals of an ulterior scope,--whic