shop said, ' Mr., Mr. Emerson is at the door, and will be glad to see you for a few minutes.' You may imagine his delight at this unexpected fulfilment of his wishes. The five minutes were well spent, and I have no doubt are a cherished memory."

During his stay in Oxford and London he was invited to give lectures, but declined. The only appearance he made was at Mr. Thomas Hughes's Working Men's College in London, where he made a short address.

He spent the last two days of this his final visit to England, under my roof, along with his devoted daughter, Ellen. This afforded an opportunity of bringing together many of his old friends and hearers of 1847-8, whom he was well pleased to meet. To every one he gave a few minutes, and the stream of conversation flowed on for several hours. After all the guests had departed, he indulged in a cigar, and expressed his gratification at having met so many “good people," as he called them. "Would that I could have held converse with each for half-an-hour!" A capital pun, related by him on this occasion, must here be recorded. It would have rejoiced the heart of Charles Lamb. Speaking of a convivial club, of which he was a member, having ceased and

dispersed for many years, it was thought desirable

that the survivors should once

and revive their old recollections.

more assemble,

An interval of

ten years had meanwhile elapsed. While the wine was circulating, someone proposed that the society should have a gathering every ten years. Mr. Appleton, one of the company, instantly said, "Then it should have the title of a Dutch picture, 'Boors Drinking' after Teniers" (ten years). His last hours in Liverpool, before sailing, were spent with Mr. R. C. Hall, an old friend and admirer.

It has often struck me that the "marble selfpossession" of Emerson, his perfect reliance upon his own genius and intuitions, his grand selfdependence, which no passing excitement could disturb or shake for a moment; and his steadfast belief in the ultimate sovereignty of righteousness and truth, are well indicated in the following remarkable lines, written by an old English poet early in the seventeenth century-Samuel Daniel :

One who of such a height hath built his mind,
And reared the dwelling of his thoughts so strong,
As neither fear nor hope can shake the frame

Of his resolvéd powers,

His settled peace, nor to disturb the same.

And with how free an eye doth he look down
Upon these lower regions of turmoil,

Where all these storms of passion vainly beat

On flesh and blood; where honour, power, renown, Are only gay afflictions, golden toil;

Where greatness stands upon as feeble feet

As frailty doth, and only great doth seem

To little minds, who do it so esteem.

A rest for his desires; and sees all things

Beneath him; and hath learned this book of man,

Full of the notes of frailty; and compared

The best of glory with her sufferings:

inured to any hue

The world can cast; that cannot cast that mind

Out of its form of goodness; that doth see

Both what the best and worst of earth can be ;

CORRESPONDENCE.

EMERSON TO CARLYLE ON "THE LIFE OF FRIEDRICH" AND THE AMERICAN CIVIL

WAR.

"Concord, 1st May, 1859.

"The book [the first volume of 'The Life of Friedrich'] came, with its irresistible inscription, so that I am all tenderness and all but tears. The book, too, is sovereignly written. I think you the true inventor of the stereoscope, as having exhibited that art in style long before we had yet heard of it in drawing. The letter came also. Every child of mine knows from far that handwriting, and brings it home with speed. You hug yourself on missing the illusion of children, and must be pitied as having one glittering toy the less. I am a victim all my

days to certain graces of form and behaviour, and can never come into equilibrium. Now I am fooled by my own young people, and grow old contented. The heedless children suddenly take the keenest hold on life, and foolish papas cling to the world on their account, as never on their own. Out of sympathy, we make believe to value the prizes of their ambition and hope. My two girls, pupils once or now of Agassiz, are good, healthy, apprehensive, decided young people, who love life. My boy divides his time between Cicero and cricket,-knows his boat, the birds, and Walter Scott, verse and prose, through and through,-and will go to college next year. Sam Ward and I tickled each other the other day, in looking over a very good company of young people, by finding in the new comers a marked improvement on their parents. There, I flatter myself, I see some emerging of our people from the prison of their: politics. I am so glad to find myself speaking once more to you, that I mean to persist in the practice. Be as glad as you have been. You and I shall not know each other, on this platform, as long as we have known. A correspondent even of twenty-five years should not be disused unless. through some fatal event. Life is too short, and with all our poetry and morals too indigent, to