rld. If he stood broadside to anything, it was to
nature. He was undoubtedly deeply and permanently influenced by
Emerson both in his mental habits and in his manner of life, yet the
main part of him was original and unadulterated Thoreau. His literary
style is in many respects better than that of Emerson; its logical
texture is better; it has more continuity, more evolution, it is more
flexible and adaptive; it is the medium of a lesser mind, but of a
mind more thoroughly imbued with the influence of the classical
standards of modern literature. I believe "Walden" will last as long
as anything Emerson has written, if not longer. It is the fruit of a
sweeter solitude and detachment from the world than Emerson ever knew,
a private view of nature, and has a fireside and campside quality that
essays fashioned for the lecture platform do not have. Emerson's pages
are more like mosaics, richly inlaid with gems of thought and poetry
and philosophy, while Thoreau's are more like a closely woven,
many-colored textile.

Thoreau's "Maine Woods" I look upon as one of the best books of the
kind in English literature. It has just the right tone and quality,
like Dana's "Two Years Before the Mast"--a tone and quality that
sometimes come to a man when he makes less effort to write than to
see and feel truly. He does not aim to exploit the woods, but to live
with them and possess himself of their spirit. The Cape Cod book also
has a similar merit; it almost leaves a taste of the salt sea spray
upon your lips. Emerson criticizes Thoreau freely, and justly, I
think. As a person he lacked sweetness and winsomeness; as a writer he
was at times given to a meaningless exaggeration.

Henry Thoreau sends me a paper with the old fault of
unlimited contradiction. The trick of his rhetoric is soon
learned: it consists in substituting for the obvious word
and thought its diametrical antagonist. He praises wild
mountains and winter forests for their domestic air; snow
and ice for their warmth; villagers and wood-choppers for
their urbanity, and the wilderness for resembling Rome and
Paris. With the constant inclination to dispraise cities and
civilization, he yet can find no way to know woods and
woodmen except by paralleling them with towns and townsmen.
Channing declared the piece is excellent: but it makes me
nervous and wretched to read it, with all its merits.

I told Henry T