hanks for his good and true
witnessing. And now that our old advice is indorsed by John Bull
himself, you will believe and come. Nothing can be better. As
soon as the lectures are over, let the trunks be packed. Only my
wife and my blessed sister dear--Elizabeth Hoar, betrothed in
better times to my brother Charles,--my wife and this lovely nun
do say that Mrs. Carlyle must come hither also; that it will
make her strong, and lengthen her days on the earth, and cheer
theirs also. Come, and make a home with me; and let us make a
truth that is better than dreams. From this farm-house of mine
you shall sally forth as God shall invite you, and "lecture in
the great cities." You shall do it by proclamation of your own,
or by the mediation of a committee, which will readily be found.
Wife, mother, and sister shall nurse thy wife meantime, and you
shall bring your republican laurels home so fast that she shall
not sigh for the Old England. Eyes here do sparkle at the very
thought. And my little placid Musketaquid River looked gayer
today in the sun. In very sooth and love, my friend, I shall
look for you in August. If aught that we know not must forbid
your wife at present, you will still come. In October, you shall
lecture in Boston; in November, in New York; in December, in
Philadelphia; in January, in Washington. I can show you three
or four great natures, as yet unsung by Harriet Martineau or Anna
Jameson, that content the heart and provoke the mind. And for
yourself, you shall be as cynical and headstrong and fantastical
as you can be.

I rejoice in what you say of better health and better prospects.
I was glad to hear of Milnes, whose _Poems_ already lay on my
table when your letter came. Since the little _Nature_ book is
not quite dead, I have sent you a few copies, and wish you would
offer one to Mr. Milnes with my respects. I hope before a great
while I may have somewhat better to send him. I am ashamed that
my little books should be "quoted" as you say.

My affectionate salutations to Mrs. Carlyle, who is to sanction
and enforce all I have written on the migration. In the prospect
of your coming I feel it to be foolish to write. I have very
much to say to you. But now only Good Bye.

--R.W. Emerson

XLII. Carlyle to Emerson

Chelsea, London, 29 May, 1839

My Dear Emerson,--Your Letter, dated Boston, 20th April, has been
here for some two weeks.