irable in thought and expression. Until the
autumn of 1838, Emerson preached twice on Sundays to the church at East
Lexington, which desired him to become its pastor. Mr. Cooke says that
when a lady of the society was asked why they did not settle a friend of
Emerson's whom he had urged them to invite to their pulpit, she replied:
"We are a very simple people, and can understand no one but Mr.
Emerson." He said of himself: "My pulpit is the Lyceum platform."
Knowing that he made his Sermons contribute to his Lectures, we need not
mourn over their not being reported.

In March, 1837, Emerson delivered in Boston a Lecture on War, afterwards
published in Miss Peabody's "Aesthetic Papers." He recognizes war as one
of the temporary necessities of a developing civilization, to disappear
with the advance of mankind:--

"At a certain stage of his progress the man fights, if he be of a
sound body and mind. At a certain high stage he makes no offensive
demonstration, but is alert to repel injury, and of an unconquerable
heart. At a still higher stage he comes into the region of holiness;
passion has passed away from him; his warlike nature is all
converted into an active medicinal principle; he sacrifices himself,
and accepts with alacrity wearisome tasks of denial and charity;
but being attacked, he bears it, and turns the other cheek, as one
engaged, throughout his being, no longer to the service of an
individual, but to the common good of all men."

In 1834 Emerson's brother Edward died, as already mentioned, in the West
India island where he had gone for his health. In his letter to Carlyle,
of November 12th of the same year, Emerson says: "Your letter, which
I received last week, made a bright light in a solitary and saddened
place. I had quite recently received the news of the death of a brother
in the island of Porto Rico, whose loss to me will be a lifelong
sorrow." It was of him that Emerson wrote the lines "In Memoriam," in
which he says,--

"There is no record left on earth
Save on tablets of the heart,
Of the rich, inherent worth,
Of the grace that on him shone
Of eloquent lips, of joyful wit;
He could not frame a word unfit,
An act unworthy to be done."

Another bereavement was too soon to be recorded. On the 7th of October,
1835, he says in a letter to Carlyle:--

"I was very glad to hear of the brother you describe, for I have one
too, and know