me in a very mute abstruse condition all this while; so that, for many weeks past, I have properly had no history,—­except such as trees in winter, and other merely passive objects may have.  That is not an agreeable side of the page; but I find it indissolubly attached to the other:  no historical leaf with me but has them both! Reading does next to nothing for me at present, neither will thinking or even dreaming rightly prosper; of no province can I be quite master except of the silent one, in such a case.  One feels there, at last, as if quite annihilated; and takes up arms again (the poor goose-quill is no great things of a weapon to arm with!) as if in a kind of sacred despair.

All people are in a sort of joy-dom over the new French Republic, which has descended suddenly (or shall we say, ascended alas?) out of the Immensities upon us; showing once again that the righteous Gods do yet live and reign!  It is long years since I have felt any such deep-seated pious satisfaction at a public event.  Adieu:  come soon; and warn us when.

Yours ever,
        T. Carlyle

CXXXIV.  Emerson to Carlyle

2 Fenny St., Manchester, 2 March, Thursday [1848]

Dear Friend,—­I hope to set forward today for London, and to arrive there some time tonight.  I am to go first to Chapman’s house, where I shall lodge for a time.  If it is too noisy, I shall move westward.  But I hope you are to be at home tomorrow, for if I prosper, I shall come and beg a dinner with you,—­is it not at five o’clock?  I am sorry you have no better news to tell me of your health,—­your own and your wife’s.  Tell her I shall surely report you to Alcott, who will have his revenge.  Thanks that you keep the door so wide open for me still.  I shall always come in.

Ever yours,
        R.W.E.

CXXXV.  Emerson to Carlyle Monday, P.M., 19 June, 1848

Dear Carlyle,—­Mrs. Crowe of Edinburgh, an excellent lady, known to you and to many good people, wishes me to go to you with her.

I tell her that I believe you relax the reins of labor as early as one hour after noon, and I propose one o’clock on Thursday for the invasion.  If you are otherwise engaged, you must send me word.  Otherwise, we shall come.

It was sad to hear no good news last evening from Jane Carlyle.  I heartily hope the night brought sleep, and the morning better health to her.

Yours always,
         R.W.  Emerson

CXXXVI.  Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, 20 June, 1848

Dear Emerson,—­We shall be very glad to become acquainted with Mrs. Crowe, of whom already by report we know many favorable things.  Brown (of Portobello, Edinburgh) had given us intimation of her kind purposes towards Chelsea; and now on Thursday you (please the Pigs) shall see the adventure achieved.  Two o’clock, not one, is the hour when labor ceases here,—­if, alas, there be any “labor” so much as got begun; which latter is often enough the sad case.  But at either hour we shall be ready for you.