I learn that an acquaintance is going to England, so send
the packet by him.

XIII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, London, 5 November, 1836

My Dear Friend,--You are very good to write to me in my silence,
in the mood you must be in. My silence you may well judge is not
forgetfulness; it is a forced silence; which this kind Letter
enforces into words. I write the day after your letter comes,
lest the morrow bring forth something new to hinder me.

What a bereavement, my Friend, is this that has overtaken you!
Such a Brother, with such a Life opening around him, like a
blooming garden where he was to labor and gather, all vanished
suddenly like frostwork, and hidden from your eye! It is a loss,
a sore loss; which God had appointed you. I do not tell you not
to mourn: I mourn with you, and could wish all mourners the
spirit you have in this sorrow. Oh, I know it well! Often
enough in this noisy Inanity of a vision where _we_ still linger,
I say to myself, Perhaps thy Buried Ones are not far from thee,
are with thee; they are in Eternity, which is a Now and HERE!
And yet Nature will have her right; Memory would feel desecrated
if she could forget. Many times in the crowded din of the
Living, some sight, some feature of a face, will recall to you
the Loved Face; and in these turmoiling streets you see the
little silent Churchyard, the green grave that lies there so
silent, inexpressibly _wae._ O, perhaps we _shall_ all meet
YONDER, and the tears be wiped from all eyes! One thing is no
Perhaps: surely we _shall_ all meet, if it be the will of the
Maker of us. If it be not His will,--then is it not better so?
Silence,--since in these days we have no speech! Eye hath not
seen, nor ear heard, in any day.

You inquire so earnestly about my welfare; hold open still the
hospitable door for me. Truly Concord, which I have sought out
on the Map, seems worthy of its name: no dissonance comes to me
from that side; but grief itself has acquired a harmony: in joy
or grief a voice says to me, Behold there is one that loves thee;
in thy loneliness, in thy darkness, see how a hospitable candle
shines from far over seas, how a friendly heart watches! It is
very good, and precious for me.

As for my health, be under no apprehension. I am always sick; I
am sicker and worse in body and mind, a little, for the present;
but it has no deep significance: it is _weariness_ merely; and
now, by the bounty of