" He inflicts his full quantity upon the reader in
such books as CAPE COD, or THE YANKEE IN CANADA. Of the
latter he confessed that he had not managed to get much of
himself into it. Heaven knows he had not, nor yet much of
Canada, we may hope. "Nothing," he says somewhere, "can
shock a brave man but dulness." Well, there are few spots
more shocking to the brave than the pages of YANKEE IN
CANADA.
There are but three books of his that will be read with much
pleasure: the WEEK, WALDEN, and the collected letters. As to
his poetry, Emerson's word shall suffice for us, it is so
accurate and so prettily said: "The thyme and majoram are not
yet honey." In this, as in his prose, he relied greatly on
the goodwill of the reader, and wrote throughout in faith.
It was an exercise of faith to suppose that many would
understand the sense of his best work, or that any could be
exhilarated by the dreary chronicling of his worst. "But,"
as he says, "the gods do not hear any rude or discordant
sound, as we learn from the echo; and I know that the nature
towards which I launch these sounds is so rich that it will
modulate anew and wonderfully improve my rudest strain."
IV.
"What means the fact," he cries, "that a soul which has lost
all hope for itself can inspire in another listening soul
such an infinite confidence in it, even while it is
expressing its despair?" The question is an echo and an
illustration of the words last quoted; and it forms the key-
note of his thoughts on friendship.
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