THE SECOND BEST 



ceived his first book; more than anything else they 

 show the real Master Soul sure of itself — and itself its 

 only possible judge. 



Oct. 28, 1853. For a year or two past, my publisher, falsely so- 

 called, has been writing from time to time, to ask what disposition 

 should be made of the copies of "A Week on the Concord and 

 Merrimac Rivers" still on hand, and at last suggesting that he had 

 use for the room they occupied in his cellar. So I had them all 

 sent to me here, and they have arrived to-day by express, filling the 

 man's wagon, 766 copies out of an edition of 1,000. I have now 

 a library of nearly nine hundred volumes, over 700 of which I 

 wrote myself. Is it not well that the author should behold the 

 fruits of his labor? My works are piled up on one side of my 

 chamber half as high as my head, my opera omnia. This was 

 authorship, these are the works of my brain. I can see now what 

 I write for, the result of my labors! Nevertheless in spite of this 

 result, sitting beside the inert mass of my works, I take up my pen 

 tonight to record what thought or experience I may have had with 

 as much satisfaction as ever. 



What marvelous sureness of vision! What a grace- 

 ful yielding to circumstances! No bitterness, no rail- 

 ing against Fate or the bad taste of his contemporaries! 

 Content for the moment to seem merely second best, 

 undaunted and undismayed, he continued to follow his 

 ideals. 



As we grow older and the cares of the household 



295 



