critical admirer than an enthusiast as regards his country. He loves enthusiastically merely the ideal and the perfect, and knows that the reality falls short of this.
“We are very young, very young!” said he, speaking of the people of the United States. He spoke of Waldo Emerson with admiration, but as of a remotely lofty spirit. “He is the best of us all!” said he. “Is he your friend?” I inquired. “No,” replied he; “I cannot flatter myself with such a relationship between us. He is besides too much apart, too——. But you ought to see him to be able to understand him.”
I made some observation against Emerson's turn of mind. Channing did not make much reply to this, but continued mentally to look up to Emerson as one looks up to some star of the first magnitude. This man must have the power of fascination.
On Wednesday I go with Channing and Marcus and Rebecca to the North American Phalanstery in New Jersey, take a near view of that wonderful thing, and learn more about Christian Socialism. Bergfalk will go with us. After that I return here, where I remain to the end of the week. The following week I shall spend with Miss Lynch in New York, and give myself up to a life of society there. After that, I return here, and accompany my friends to Massachusetts, in order to celebrate with their relations there the great festival of Thanksgiving-day, as it is called. This day, which is fixed this year for the 26th of November, is celebrated with particular solemnity in the States of New England, where it first originated. After that, I shall visit the Lowells, the Ernersons, and many others, to whom I am invited, and so on to Boston, where I think of spending the winter months, and whence my friends will return home.
In the evening, at sunset, I went out for a solitary walk in the road, half town, half country. I walked
