Our pipes, however shrill
and squeaking, certify this our faith in Tune, and the eternal
Amelioration may one day reach our ears and instruments. It is a
poor second thought, this literary activity.

Perhaps I am not made obnoxious to much suffering, but I have had
happy hours enough in gazing from afar at the splendors of the
Intellectual Law, to overpay me for any pains I know. Existence
may go on to be better, and, if it have such insights, it never
can be bad. You sometimes charge me with I know not what sky-
blue, sky-void idealism. As far as it is a partiality, I fear I
may be more deeply infected than you think me. I have very
joyful dreams which I cannot bring to paper, much less to any
approach to practice, and I blame myself not at all for my
reveries, but that they have not yet got possession of my house
and barn. But I shall not lose my love for books. I only
worship Eternal Buddh in the retirements and intermissions of
Brahma.--But I must not egotize and generalize to the end of my
sheet, as I have a message or two to declare.

I enclose a bill of exchange on the Barings for thirty-six
pounds; which is the sum of two recent payments of Munroe and of
Little and Brown, whereof I do not despair you shall yet have
some account in booksellers' figures. I have got so far with
Clark as to have his consent to audit the accounts when I shall
get energy and time enough to compile them out of my ridiculous
Journal. Munroe begs me to say what possibly I have already
asked for him, that, when the _History of Cromwell_ is ready to
be seen of men, you will have an entire copy of the Manuscript
taken, and sent over to us. Then will he print a cheap edition
such as no one will undersell, and secure such a share of profit
to the author as the cheap press allows. Perhaps only thirty or
forty pounds would make it worth while to take the trouble. A
valued friend of mine wishes to know who wrote (perhaps three
years ago) a series of metaphysical articles in _Blackwood_ on
Consciousness. Can you remember and tell me? And now I commend
you to the good God, you and your History, and the true kind wife
who is always good to the eager Yankees, and am yours heartily,

--R.W. Emerson

XCI. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, 8 April, 1844

Dear Emerson,--Till within five minutes of the limit of my time,
I had forgotten that this was the 3d of the Month; that I
had a Letter