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"The Correspondence of Thomas Carlyle and Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1834-1872, Vol II."

Of Ireland, who I surmise
is busy in the problem even now, you will hear by and by,
probably in more definite terms: I did not see him again after
my first notice of him to you; but there is no doubt concerning
his determinations (for all manner of reasons) to get you to
Lancashire, to England;--and in fact it is an adventure which I
think you ought to contemplate as _fixed,_--say for this year and
the beginning of next? Ireland will help you to fix the dates;
and there is nothing else, I think, which should need fixing.--
Unquestionably you would get an immense quantity of food for
ideas, though perhaps not at all in the way you anticipate, in
looking about among us: nay, if you even thought us _stupid,_
there is something in the godlike indifference with which London
will accept and sanction even that verdict,--something highly
instructive at least! And in short, for the truth must be told,
London is properly your Mother City too,--verily you have about
as much to do with it, in spite of Polk and Q. Victory, as I had!
And you ought to come and look at it, beyond doubt; and say to
this land, "Old Mother, how are you getting on at all?" To which
the Mother will answer, "Thankee, young son, and you?"--in a way
useful to both parties! That is truth.


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