sting times, with its Death, with its Heaven and its
Hell. Ah me!

Wordsworth is here at present; a garrulous, rather watery, not
wearisome old man. There is a freshness as of brooks and
mountain breezes in him; one says of him: Thou art not great,
but thou art genuine; well speed _thou._ Sterling is home from
Italy, recovered in health, indeed very well could he but _sit
still._ He is for Clifton, near Bristol, for the next three
months. I hear him speak of some sonnet or other he means to
address to you: as for me he knows well that I call his
verses timber toned, without true melody either in thought,
phrase or sound. The good John! Did you ever see such a vacant
turnip-lantern as that Walsingham Goethe? Iconoclast Collins
strikes his wooden shoe through him, and passes on, saying almost
nothing.--My space is done! I greet the little _maidkin,_ and
bid her welcome to this unutterable world. Commend her, poor
little thing, to her little Brother, to her Mother and Father;--
Nature, I suppose, has sent her strong letters of recommendation,
without our help, to them all. Where I shall be in six weeks is
not very certain; likeliest in Scotland, whither our whole
household, servant and all, is pressingly invited, where they
have provided horses and gigs. Letters sent hither will still
find me, or lie waiting for me, safe: but perhaps the
_speediest_ address will be "Care of Fraser, 215 Regent Street."
My Brother wants me to the Tyrol and Vienna; but I think I shall
not go. Adieu, dear friend. It is a great treasure to me that I
have you in this world. My Wife salutes you all.--

Yours ever and ever,
T. Carlyle

XLIII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, London, 24 June, 1833

Dear Friend,--Two Letters from you were brought hither by Miss
Sedgwick last week. The series of post Letters is a little
embroiled in my head; but I have a conviction that all hitherto
due have arrived; that up to the date of my last despatch (a
_Proof-sheet_ and a Letter), which ought to be getting into your
hands in these very days, our correspondence is clear. That
Letter and Proof-sheet, two separate pieces, were sent to
Liverpool some three weeks ago, to be despatched by the first
conveyance thence; as I say, they are probably in Boston about
this time. The Proof-sheet was one of the forty-seven such which
the new _French Revolution_ is to consist of: with this, as with
a correct sample, yo