My Dear Carlyle,--The last steamer brought, as ever, good tidings
from you, though certainly from a new habitat, at Leeds, or near
it. If Leeds will only keep you a little in its precinct, I will
search for you there; for it is one of the parishes in the
diocese which Mr. Ireland and his friends have carved out for me
on the map of England.
I have taken a berth in the packet-ship "Washington Irving,"
which leaves Boston for Liverpool next week, 5 October; having
decided, after a little demurring and advising, to follow my
inclination in shunning the steamer. The owners will almost take
oath that their ship cannot be out of a port twenty days. At
Liverpool and Manchester I shall take advice of Ireland and his
officers of the "Institutes," and perhaps shall remain for some
time in that region, if my courage and my head are equal to the
work they offer me. I will write you what befalls me in the
strange city. Who knows but I may have adventures--I who had
never one, as I have just had occasion to write to Mrs. Howitt,
who inquired what mine were?
Well, if I survive Liverpool, and Manchester, and Leeds, or
rather my errands thither, I shall come some fine day to see you
in your burly city, you in the centre of the world, and sun me a
little in your British heart. It seems a lively passage that I
am entering in the old Dream World, and perhaps the slumbers are
lighter and the Morning is near. Softly, dear shadows, do not
scatter yet. Knit your panorama close and well, till these rare
figures just before me draw near, and are greeted and known.
But there is no more time in this late night--and what need?
since I shall see you and yours soon.
Ever yours,
R.W.E.