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

, or what would be still more effectual,
direct to myself. My malison on all Blockheadisms and torpid
stupidities and infidelities; of which this world is full!--
Your Letter had been anxiously enough waited for, a month before
my departure; but we will not mention the delay in presence of
what you were engaged with then. _Faustum sit;_ that truly was
and will be a Work worth doing your best upon; and I, if alive,
can promise you at least one reader that will do his best upon
your Work. I myself, often think of the Philosophies precisely
in that manner. To say truth, they do not otherwise rise in
esteem with me at all, but rather sink. The last thing I read of
that kind was a piece by Hegel, in an excellent Translation by
Stirling, right well translated, I could see, for every bit of it
was intelligible to me; but my feeling at the end of it was,
"Good Heavens, I have walked this road before many a good time;
but never with a Cannon-ball at each ankle before!" Science
also, Science falsely so called, is--But I will not enter upon
that with you just now.


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