Full resolution (TIFF) - On this page / på denna sida - Boston, January 22
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
Below is the raw OCR text
from the above scanned image.
Do you see an error? Proofread the page now!
Här nedan syns maskintolkade texten från faksimilbilden ovan.
Ser du något fel? Korrekturläs sidan nu!
This page has been proofread at least once.
(diff)
(history)
Denna sida har korrekturlästs minst en gång.
(skillnad)
(historik)
He read to me one afternoon some portions of his
Observations on England (in manuscript) and
scraps from his conversations with Thomas Carlyle
(the only man of whom I heard Emerson
speak with anything like admiration) about “the
young America,” as well as the journey with him
to Stonehenge. Some of these things I can never
forget. I feel that my intercourse with him will
leave a deep trace in my soul. I could desire in
him warmer sympathies, larger interest in social
questions that touch upon the well-being of mankind,
and more feeling for the suffering and sorrowful
on earth. But what right, indeed, has the
flower, which vibrates with every breath of wind,
to quarrel with the granite rock because it is
differently made? In the bosom of such lie strong
metals. Let the brook be silent and rejoice that it
can reflect the rock, the flowers, the firmament, and
the stars, and grow and be strengthened by the
invisible fountains that are nourished by the
mountain tops.
Emerson is at this moment regarded as the
head of the Transcendentalists in this section of
America, a kind of people who are found principally
in the States of New England, and who
seem to me like its White Mountains or Alps; that
is to say, they aim at being so. But so far as I have
yet heard or seen, I recognize only one actual Alp,
<< prev. page << föreg. sida << >> nästa sida >> next page >>
