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 to write acknowledging even money!  Take the acknowledgment, given in all haste, not without a gratitude that will last longer:  the Thirty-six pounds and odd shillings came safe in your Letter, a new unlooked-for Gift.  America, I think, is like an amiable family teapot; you think it is all out long since, and lo, the valuable implement yields you another cup, and another!  Many thanks to you, who are the heart of America to me.