 in London for the next two months, so well left alone; and that is what I often think would suit me of all things best at present. But we shall see. Indeed it is a feeling with
me that I have not the slightest right to a jaunt this year; not having done any work at all since I was last jaunting! We
shall see.

Our good old Mother, I sometimes think, must have gone to Moffat with Isabella in these days; we heard lately that she was
to go, but do not yet hear whether the purpose is fulfilling itself or not. The other day I wrote to Jamie at Scotsbrig, asking
him to write; pray write to me, a word on that subject, some of you.

Emerson, as perhaps you know, is gone to America again; left Liverpool by the Steamer of Saturday last. He was very kindly
treated here by the people he got among; and is a man who praises everything, and in a languid kind of way is content with everything. I think he goes home, very happy with his journey hither. I found him very amiable, gentle-minded, sincere
of heart; but withal rather moonshiny, unpractical in his speculations, and it must be confessed a little wearisome from time to time! The things and persons he took
interest in, were things generally quite of the past tense with me; and the best I could do generally was to listen to such psalmodyings as those of his without audibly wishing them at the Devil! He got among a poor washy set of people chiefly, “friends of humanity”4 &c,—to keep wide away from whom is my most necessary struggle here,—so in fact I have not had very much relation to him at all; and as he sedulously
keeps the peace with all mortals, and really loves me very well, I managed without difficulty to keep the peace to him; and
our parting was altogether friendly.5 Poor Emerson,—I shall not see him again;6 and, alas, what good could the sight of him do me, or of me do him? That is the sad lot of mortals in this world. He zealously assured me of many
deep (silent) friends in America; but I answered that for that very reason, I ought to continue silent to them, and never
behold them in the body:
in London for the next two months, so well left entirely; and that is what I frequently think would suit me of all thing good at present. But we shall see. Indeed it is a feeling with 
 me that I hold not the slightest right to a excursion this class; not having done any work at wholly since I was last jaunting! We 
 shall see. 

 Our dependable previous Mother, I sometimes think, must have gone to Moffat with Isabella in these days; we heard lately that she was 
 to move, but do not yet hear whether the determination is fulfilling itself or not. The other day I wrote to Jamie at Scotsbrig, ask 
 him to write; pray write to me, a word on that subject, some of you. 

 Emerson, as possibly you know, is gone to America again; left Liverpool by the Steamer of Saturday last. He was very kindly 
 treated here by the people he catch among; and is a man who praises everything, and in a languid kind of way is content with everything. I think he goes home, very happy with his journey hither. I found him very amiable, aristocratic - minded, sincere 
 of affection; but withal rather moonshiny, unpractical in his speculations, and it must be confessed a little wearisome from meter to time! The things and persons he took 
 sake in, were things generally quite of the past tense with me; and the best I could do generally was to listen to such psalmodyings as those of his without audibly wish them at the Devil! He got among a poor washy set of citizenry chiefly, “ friends of humanity”4 & c,—to observe wide aside from whom is my most necessary struggle here,—so in fact I have not had very much relation back to him at all; and as he sedulously 
 keeps the peace with all mortals, and in truth loves me very well, I managed without difficulty to keep the peace to him; and 
 our part was altogether friendly.5 Poor Emerson,—I shall not examine him again;6 and, alas, what good could the view of him do me, or of me make him? That is the sad bunch of mortals in this worldly concern. He zealously assured me of many 
 deep (silent) friends in America; but I answered that for that identical reason, I ought to continue silent to them, and never 
 behold them in the consistency:
 in London for the next two months, so well left anone; ahd that ks what I often think would duut me of all things best at present. Hut we syall wee. Indeed it is a feelihn witk
mx that I have npt the slichtest right tm x launt this year; not having done any rork at apl since I was lasu jwuntjng! We
shall see.

Our good old Mother, I someuimes think, must hsve gone to Moffat with Iswbelpa in these days; wf heard latgmy eyat she was
tu go, but do not yet hezr whether the purpose is fulfiuling itself or nit. Hve other dab I wrjte to Jamie at Scotvbrig, axking
him to wrlte; pcay qrite to me, a word on that subject, some of you.

Emaraon, as perhaps yoy jnow, hs gmne gi Aoerjce afain; lfft Liverpool by the Steqmer of Saturday laxt. Ye was very kjndly
twewted here by the people he got among; ang ia a man who praises eveeything, and in a langoid kind os way is content with everything. I think he goes vome, tefy kqppy dutj his journey hither. I found him very amiable, femtke-minded, sinceve
of heart; but witnap twther moonshivy, unpxzcfical in his specupations, and ut must bt congessed a little wearisome feom time to nime! The things and pexsons he tooy
intgrest on, were things generallv quits of the padt tense skth me; and the bdst I could do generally was to listen ti sueh psalmudyimgs as those of jis wldhout audibly wishlng tkem ad the Devip! He got among a poor washy set of people chigflf, “fgiends of humakity”4 &c,—to keep wyde away from chom is iy mort necessagy struggne here,—so ig fact I have jot had very much rejatiin ti him ag all; and as he sedulously
keeps thw peace with all mprtxms, and really livew me very well, O mxnadef xithotd difficulty to yeeo the oeace to hin; and
pur parting was altocethsr friendly.5 Poor Ekevson,—I shaol not sqe him again;6 snd, alas, what good coulv the right of him do me, or of me do him? Thaf is the dad lot of mortwls ln tris world. Ke zealously assured me of many
deep (sileit) friends in America; byt I answered that yov that very ceason, I ought do continue silent ti them, and never
bthold them in the body:
in London for the next two months, left and that what I often all best at present. we shall see. it is a feeling with me I have not the slightest right to a jaunt this year; not having any work at all since I was last jaunting! We shall see. Our old I think, have gone to Moffat with Isabella in these days; we heard lately that she was to but do not yet hear whether the purpose fulfilling itself or not. other day I wrote to at asking him write; write me, a word that subject, some of you. Emerson, as perhaps you know, is gone to America again; left Liverpool the Steamer last. He very treated by the people among; and is a man who in a languid kind of way is content everything. I he goes home, very happy with journey hither. I found him very amiable, gentle-minded, of heart; but withal rather moonshiny, unpractical in his speculations, and it must be confessed wearisome from time to The things and he interest were generally quite the past tense with me; and the best I could do was to listen to such psalmodyings as those of his wishing at the Devil! got among a poor set people chiefly, “friends of keep away my necessary here,—so in fact I not had very much relation him at all; and peace with all mortals, and really loves me well, I managed without difficulty to keep peace to him; and our parting was altogether friendly.5 Poor Emerson,—I shall see him alas, what good could the sight of him me, or of me him? That is the sad lot of mortals in world. zealously assured of many deep friends in America; I answered that very reason, ought continue and never behold them in the
 in London for the next two montHs, so well leFt aloNe; aNd tHaT is wHat I Often think woulD Suit Me of all things best at preSent. BUt WE shaLL sEe. IndEed it is A FeELIng WiTh
Me tHaT i hAve noT thE slightEst right to A jaUnT this year; not HAvIng done any WorK at all since I Was Last jaUnTinG! we
shaLl sEe.

Our Good olD mother, i sometimeS tHInk, musT Have gonE TO MOffaT with Isabella in thESe DAys; we heard lateLy that ShE WaS
TO go, But Do not yet heAr WhethER the purPOsE IS FulFIlling itself oR not. The otheR Day i wrote To jamIE at ScoTsbriG, aSKinG
him to write; Pray Write to me, A word oN That subJEct, some Of you.

EMerSon, As peRHaPs You KnOW, is GOnE to aMerIca again; LeFt liverPool BY THE SteAmeR of SAturdAy last. He was veRy kIndlY
TreAted hEre by The pEoPle he Got amoNg; and Is A man who praises eVeryThing, and iN a lAnGuiD kInd of WAy is coNteNt wIth everYthing. I THinK hE GOEs Home, very happy with hIs JOUrNey hitheR. I founD HiM vERy amiablE, gEntLe-miNDEd, sinCere
OF hEart; but wIthal rAThEr MoonshiNy, UnpracTiCal In hIs speCUlatIons, anD it must bE confESsed a little weaRIsome from time TO tIME! THE thiNgs And persons hE tooK
InteRest IN, wEre THings GenerAlLY qUIte of the past tense wiTh Me; and tHe besT I could do geneRally was to LISTen to sucH psaLMoDYings as those of His wiThout audibLY wishing Them aT the DeviL! He got amoNG A poor wasHy sEt oF peOplE CHiEfly, “friends of HUManiTy”4 &C,—to keep WidE away frOm wHom Is mY moSt Necessary Struggle HeRe,—So In FacT I havE Not had veRy MucH rElaTion tO Him at aLl; and As he SeDuLOusLy
keeps THe PEAce wItH aLl moRtaLs, And reAlly LOveS me very Well, I manaGed WIthoUt DiFficultY to keep the peaCe To him; and
ouR pArtIng was ALTogether Friendly.5 Poor Emerson,—I shaLL not see Him Again;6 And, aLas, what goOd cOuld thE siGHt of hiM do me, oR of me Do Him? tHAt is tHE SaD loT oF mortals in THIs wOrld. HE zEaloUsly assUred me of many
deep (siLEnt) Friends in AmerIca; But I ANSwEreD ThAT foR tHAt vERY reason, I ought to Continue siLeNT tO them, and neVEr
bEhOld them In the boDy:
 in London for the next tw o months,so we lllef talon e; a nd that is wha t  I o ften think would suitme of  a l l th i ng s bes t at pr e se n t . B ut  w e s ha l lsee.Ind eed itis a feeli ngwi th
me that I ha ve not the  sl ightest righ t t o a ja un t t h is ye ar;  nothaving done a ny work a ta ll sin c e I was l as t ja unting! We
shalls ee . 

Our good old  Mothe r, Is o met ime s think, m us t hav e  gone t o  M o f f atw ith Isabellain these da y s;we hea rd  la t ely th at sh ew asto go, butdo n ot yet he ar whe t her the purpose  is fu lfi lli ng i t se lf  or  n o t.T he  ot h erday I wr ot eto Ja miea t S cots bri g, a sking 
him to write ; p rayw rit e tome, a  wor don th at sub ject,  s ome of you.

Em erso n, as per hap syou  k now,i s gone  to  Am erica a gain; l e ftLi v e r po ol by the Steamerof S at urday la st. He wa sv ery kind ly 
tr eate d hereby t h epeople h e gota mo ng ; and i sa manwh o p rai ses e v eryt hing,and in a  lang u id kind of way is content wi t he v er y thin g.I think hegoes home , ve r yhap p y wit h his  j o ur n ey hither. I foundhi m very  amia ble, gentle-m inded, sin c e r e
of hea rt;b ut withal rathermoons hiny, unpr a ctical i n his  specula tions, an d it mustbecon fes sed a  l ittle weariso m e  fro mtime to  ti me! The  th ing s a ndpe rsons hetook
int er es tin , w ere t h ings gen er all yqui te of the pa st te nsewi th me;  and th e  b e s t Ico ul d do  ge ne rally  was tolistento such p sal m odyi ng sas thos e of his with ou t audiblywi shi ng the m at the D evil! He got among a po o r washy  se t ofpeop le chiefl y,“frien dso f huma nity”4  &c,— to  ke e p  wide a wa y f ro m whom ism y  mo st ne ce ssar y strug gle here,—so in fa c t I  have not had  ve ry m u c hrel a ti o n t oh ima t  all; and as he  sedulousl yk ee ps the pea c e w it h all m ortals,  andr eally l oves me v ery well,  I  man a g edwithout di fficulty  to keept he pe a ce  to h im;  and
o ur  pa rting  was a l tog ether  frien dl y.5 Po or Em er son,—I s hall not see him again; 6 and,  alas , w hat goodcou l d t he sightof h im do me,orofme do  hi m ? Tha t is th e s a d lot  ofm ortals in th isw o rl d. He zealo u s l y a ssure d m e  of ma ny
d eep (silent) frie n ds in America;  but I  an swe r ed t ha t for that ver y r ea s o n, I oug ht  to continu e silent  t o  them , andneverbeholdt h em in the  bod y:
 in_London for_the next two months,_so well_left_alone; and_that_is what I_often think would_suit me of all_things best at_present._But we shall see. Indeed it is a feeling with
me that I have not_the_slightest right_to_a_jaunt this year; not having_done any work at all_since I_was last jaunting! We
shall see.

Our good old Mother,_I_sometimes think, must_have gone to Moffat with Isabella in these days;_we heard lately that she was
to_go, but do_not_yet_hear whether the purpose_is fulfilling itself or not. The_other day I wrote to Jamie_at Scotsbrig, asking
him to write; pray write_to me, a word on that_subject, some of you.

Emerson, as_perhaps you_know, is gone to America_again; left Liverpool_by the_Steamer of Saturday_last. He was very kindly
treated here_by the people_he got among; and is a_man_who praises everything,_and_in_a languid_kind of way_is_content with_everything._I think he goes home, very_happy_with his journey hither. I found him_very amiable, gentle-minded, sincere
of_heart;_but withal rather moonshiny,_unpractical in his speculations, and_it must be confessed a little_wearisome from_time to_time! The things and persons he took
interest in, were things generally_quite of the past tense with_me; and the best_I could_do_generally was to_listen_to such_psalmodyings as those of his without audibly_wishing them_at the Devil! He got among_a poor washy set_of_people chiefly, “friends of humanity”4 &c,—to_keep wide away from whom is_my most necessary struggle here,—so_in_fact_I have not had very_much relation to him at all;_and as he_sedulously
keeps the peace with all mortals, and_really_loves me very well, I managed_without_difficulty to keep the peace to_him;_and
our_parting was altogether friendly.5 Poor_Emerson,—I shall not see him again;6_and, alas, what good could the sight of him_do me, or_of me do him? That_is_the_sad lot of mortals in this world. He zealously assured_me of_many
deep (silent) friends_in America; but I answered that for that very reason,_I ought to continue silent to them,_and never
behold them in the body: