228 A SUNDAY IN CHEYNE ROW. 



of cordage and effectual draught-tackle to take the 

 road with, is not to me the most astonishing of intel- 

 lects." 



Emerson split no hairs, but he twisted very little 

 cordage for the rough draught-horses of this world. 

 He tells us to hitch our wagon to a star ; and the 

 star is without doubt a good steed, when once fairly 

 caught and harnessed, but it takes an astromomer to 

 catch it. The value of such counsel is not very tan- 

 gible unless it awakes us to the fact that every power 

 of both heaven and earth is friendly to a noble and 

 courageous activity. 



Carlyle was impatient of Emerson's fine-spun sen- 

 tences and transcendental sleight of hand. Indeed, 

 from a literary point of view, one of the most inter- 

 esting phases of the published correspondence be- 

 tween these two notable men is the value which each 

 unwittingly set upon his own methods and work. 

 Each would have the other like himself. 



Emerson wants Emersonian epigrams from Car- 

 lyle, and Carlyle wants Carlylean thunder from Em- 

 erson. Each was unconsciously his own ideal. The 

 thing which a man's nature calls him to do, what 

 else so well worth doing? Certainly nothing else to 

 him, but to another ? How surely each one of us 

 would make our fellow over in our own image. Car- 

 lyle wants Emerson more practical, more concrete, 

 more like himself, in short. " The vile Pythons of 

 this Mud-world do verily require to have sun-arrows 

 shot into them, and red-hot pokers stuck through 



