, London, 13 February, 1837

My Dear Emerson,--You had promise of a letter to be despatched
you about New-year's-day; which promise I was myself in a
condition to fulfil at the time set, but delayed it, owing to
delays of printers and certain "Articles" that were to go with
it. Six weeks have not yet entirely brought up these laggard
animals: however, I will delay no longer for them. Nay, it
seems the Articles, were they never so ready, cannot go with the
Letter; but must fare round by Liverpool or Portsmouth, in a
separate conveyance. We will leave them to the bounty of Time.

Your little Book and the Copy of _Teufelsdrockh_ came safely;
soon after I had written. The _Teufelsdrockh_ I instantaneously
despatched to Hamburg, to a Scottish merchant there, to whom
there is an allusion in the Book; who used to be my _Speditor_
(one of the politest extant though totally a stranger) in my
missions and packages to and from Weimar.* The other, former
Copy, more specially yours, had already been, as I think I told
you, delivered out of durance; and got itself placed in the
bookshelf, as _the_ Teufelsdrockh. George Ripley tells me you
are printing another edition; much good may it do you! There is
now also a kind of whisper and whimper rising _here_ about
printing one. I said to myself once, when Bookseller Fraser
shrieked so loud at a certain message you sent him: "Perhaps
after all they will print this poor rag of a thing into a Book,
after I am dead it may be,--if so seem good to them. _Either_
way!" As it is, we leave the poor orphan to its destiny, all the
more cheerfully. Ripley says farther he has sent me a critique
of it by a better hand than the _North American:_ I expect it,
but have not got it Yet.** The _North American_ seems to say
that he too sent me one. It never came to hand, nor any hint of
it,--except I think once before through you. It was not at all
an unfriendly review; but had an opacity, of matter-of-fact in
it that filled one with amazement. Since the Irish Bishop who
said there were some things in _Gulliver_ on which he for one
would keep his belief _suspended,_ nothing equal to it, on that
side, has come athwart me. However, he _has_ made out that
Teufelsdrockh is, in all human probability, a fictitious
character; which is always something, for an Inquirer into
Truth.--Will you, finally, thank Friend Ripley in my name, till I
have time to write to him and thank him.

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