allow such sacrifices. Eyes so old and weary, and which have learned to look on so much, are gathering an hourly harvest; and I cannot spare what on noble terms is offered me.

"Concord, 1861.

"Here has come into the country, three or four months ago, another volume of your 'History of Friedrich,' infinitely the wittiest book that ever was written; a book that one would think the English people would rise up in mass and thank the author for by cordial acclamation, and signify, by crowning him with oak leaves, their joy that such a head existed among them, and sympathising and muchreading America would make a new treaty, or send a Minister Extraordinary to offer congratulation of honouring delight to England in acknowledgment of this donation;—a book holding so many memorable and heroic facts, working directly on practice, with new heroes, things unnoticed before-the German Plutarch (now that we have exhausted the Greek and Roman and the British Plutarchs),with a range, too, of thought and wisdom, so large and so elastic, not so much applying as inculcating to every need and sensibility of man,-that we do not read a stereotype page,—rather we see the eyes of the writer looking into ours; mark his behaviour,

humming, chuckling,—with under tones and trumpet tones, and long commanding glances, stereoscoping every figure that passes, and every hill, river, road, hummock, and pebble in the long perspective-with its wonderful system of mnemonics, whereby great and insignificant men are marked and modelled in memory by what they were, had, and did. And, withal, a book that is a Judgment Day for its moral verdict on the men and nations and manners of modern times. And this book makes no noise. I have hardly seen a notice of it in any newspaper or journal, and you would think there was no such. book. I am not aware that Mr. Buchanan has sent a special messenger to Cheyne Row, Chelsea, or that Mr. Dallas had been instructed to assure Mr. Carlyle of his distinguished consideration. But the secret wits and hearts of men take note of it, not the less surely. They have said nothing lately in praise of the air, or of fire, or of the blooming of love; and yet, I suppose, they are sensible of these and not less of this book, which is like these."

"Concord, 8th December, 1862.

"Long ago, as soon as swift steamers could bring the new book across the sea, I received the third volume of Friedrich' with your autograph inscription, and read it with joy. Not a word went

to the beloved author, for I do not write or think. I would wait perhaps for happier days, as our President Lincoln will not even emancipate slaves until on the heels of a victory, or the semblance of such. But he waited in vain for his triumph, nor dare I in my heavy months expect bright days.

"The book was heartily grateful, and square to the author's imperial scale. You have lighted the glooms, and engineered away the pits, whereof you poetically pleased yourself with complaining, in your sometime letter to me, clean out of it, and have let sunshine and pure air enfold the scene. First, I read it honestly through for the history; then I pause and speculate on the muse that inspires, and the friend that reports it. 'Tis sovereignly written, above all literature.

I find, as ever in your books, that one man has deserved well of mankind for restoring the scholar's profession to its highest use and dignity. I find also that you are very wilful, and have made a covenant with your eyes that they shall not see anything you do not wish they should. But I was heartily glad to read somewhere that your book was nearly finished in the manuscript, for I would wish you to sit and taste your fame, if that were not contrary to the law of Olympus. My joints ache to think of your rugged labour. Now that

you have conquered to yourself such a huge kingdom among men, can you not give yourself breath, and chat a little-an Emeritus in the Eternal University—and write a gossiping letter to an old American friend or so? Alas, I own that I have no right to say this last, I who write never. Here we read no books. The war is our sole and doleful instructor. All our bright young men go into it, to be misused and sacrificed by incapable leaders. One lesson they all learn; to hate slavery, teterrima causa! But the issue does not yet appear. We must get ourselves morally right. Nobody can help us. 'Tis of no account what England or France may do. Unless backed by our profligate parties, their action would be nugatory, and, if so backed, the worst. But even the war is better than the degrading and descending politics that preceded it for decades of years; and our legislation has made great strides, and if we can stave off that fury of trade which rushes to peace, at the cost of replacing the South in the status ante bellum, we can, with something more of courage, leave the problem to another score of years-free labour to fight with the beast, and see if bales, barrels, and baskets cannot find out that thus they pass more commodiously and surely to their ports, through free hands than through barbarians.”

Concord, 26th Sept., 1864. "I had received in July the fourth volume of 'Friedrich,' and it was my best reading in the summer, and for weeks my only reading. One fact was paramount in all the good I drew from it, that whomsoever many years had used and worn, they had not yet broken any fibre of your force; a pure joy to me who abhor the inroads which time makes on me and my friends. But this book will excuse you from any unseemly haste to make up your accounts, nay, holds you to fulfil your career with all amplitude and calmness. I found joy and pride in it, and discovered a golden chain of continuity not often seen in the works of men, apprising me that one good head and great heart remained in England immovable,— superior to his own eccentricities and perversities, nay, wearing these, I can well believe, as a jaunty coat or red cockade to defy or mislead idlers, for the better securing his own peace and the very ends which the idlers fancy he resists. England's lease of power is good during his days. I have in these last years lamented that you had not made the visit to America, which in earlier years you projected or favoured. It would have made it impossible that your name should be cited for one moment on the side of the enemies of man