A copy of Wilhelm Meister, two copies, one for Stearns Wheeler, are probably in some of the “Line Ships” at this time too:  good voyage to them!  The French Revolutions were all shipped, invoiced, &c.; they have, I will suppose, arrived safe, as we shall hear by and by.  What freightages, landings, and embarkments!  For only two days ago I sent you off, through Kennet, another Book:  John Sterling’s Poems, which he has collected into a volume.  Poor John has overworked himself again, or the climate without fault on his side has proved too hard for him:  he sails for Madeira again next week!  His Doctors tell me there is no intrinsic danger; but they judge the measure safe as one of precaution.  It is very mortifying he had nestled himself down at Clifton, thinking he might now hope to continue there; and lo! he has to fly again.—­Did you get his letter?  The address to him now will be, for three months to come, “Edward Sterling, Esq., South Place, Knightsbridge, London,” his Father’s designation.

Farther I must not omit to say that Richard Monckton Milnes purposes, through the strength of Heaven, to review you!  In the next Number of the London and Westminster, the courageous youth will do this feat, if they let him.  Nay, he has already done it, the Paper being actually written he employed me last week in negotiating with the Editors about it; and their answer was, “Send us the Paper, it promises very well.”  We shall see whether it comes out or not; keeping silence till then.  Milnes is a Tory Member of Parliament; think of that!  For the rest, he describes his religion in these terms:  “I profess to be a Crypto-Catholic.”  Conceive the man!  A most bland-smiling, semi-quizzical, affectionate, high-bred, Italianized little man, who has long olive-blond hair, a dimple, next to no chin, and flings his arm round your neck when he addresses you in public society!  Let us hear now what he will say, of the American Vates.*

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* The end of this letter has been cut off.
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L. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, London, 17 January, 1840

Dear Emerson,—­Your Letter of the 12th of December, greatly, to my satisfaction, has arrived; the struggling Steamship, in spite of all hurricanes, has brought it safe across the waters to me.  I find it good to write you a word in return straightway; though I think there are already two, or perhaps even three, messages of mine to you flying about unacknowledged somewhere under the moon; nay, the last of them perhaps may go by the same packet as this, —­having been forwarded, as this will be, to Liverpool, after the “British Queen” sailed from London.