e read several bad. But that too is
worthy of some wonder; that too, like the Old Bucaniers, hungers
and thirsts (in ingenuous minds) to have some true record and
description given of it.

----------
* Bossu wrote two books which are known to the student of the
history of the settlement of America; one, "Nouveaux Voyages aux
Indes occidentales," Paris, 1768; the other, "Nouveaux Voyages
dans l'Amerique septentrionale," Amsterdam (Paris), 1777.
----------

And poor Miss Fuller, was there any _Life_ ever published of her?
or is any competent hand engaged on it? Poor Margaret, I often
remember her; and think how she is asleep now under the surges
of the sea. Mazzini, as you perhaps know, is with us this
summer; comes across once in the week or so, and tells me, or at
least my Wife, all his news. The Roman revolution has made a man
of him,--quite brightened up ever since;--and the best friend
_he_ ever saw, I believe, was that same Quack-President of
France, who relieved him while it was still time.

My Brother is in Annandale, working hard over _Dante_ at last;
talks of coming up hither shortly; I am myself very ill and
miserable in the _liver_ regions; very tough otherwise,--though
I have now got spectacles for small print in the twilight. _Eheu
fugaces,_--and yet why _Eheu?_ In fact it is better to be
silent.--Adieu, dear Emerson; I expect to get a great deal
brisker by and by,--and in the first place to have a Missive from
Boston again. My Wife sends you many regards. I am as ever,--
affectionately Yours,

--T. Carlyle

CXLV. Emerson to Carlyle

Concord, 28 July, 1851

My Dear Carlyle,--You must always thank me for silence, be it
never so long, and must put on it the most generous
interpretations. For I am too sure of your genius and goodness,
and too glad that they shine steadily for all, to importune you
to make assurance sure by a private beam very often. There is
very little in this village to be said to you, and, with all my
love of your letters, I think it the kind part to defend you from
our imbecilities,--my own, and other men's. Besides, my eyes are
bad, and prone to mutiny at any hint of white paper.

And yet I owe you all my story, if story I have. I have been
something of a traveler the last year, and went down the Ohio
River to its mouth; walked nine miles into, and nine miles out
of the Mammoth Cave, in Kentucky,--walked or sailed, for we
cro