CONCORD, August 18, 1857.
MR. BLAKE,--Fifteenthly. It seems to me that you need some absorbing
pursuit. It does not matter much what it is, so it be honest. Such
employment will be favorable to your development in more
characteristic and important directions. You know there must be
impulse enough for steerageway, though it be not toward your port, to
prevent your drifting helplessly on to rocks or shoals. Some sails are
set for this purpose only. There is the large fleet of scholars and
men of science, for instance, always to be seen standing off and on
every coast, and saved thus from running on to reefs, who will at last
run into their proper haven, we trust.
It is a pity you were not here with Brown and Wiley. I think that in
this case, _for a rarity_, the more the merrier.
You perceived that I did not entertain the idea of our going together
to Maine on such an excursion as I had planned. The more I thought of
it, the more imprudent it appeared to me. I did think to have written
you before going, though not to propose your going also; but I went at
last very suddenly, and could only have written a business letter, if
I had tried, when there was no business to be accomplished. I have now
returned, and think I have had a quite profitable journey, chiefly
from associating with an intelligent Indian. My companion, Edward
Hoar, also found his account in it, though he suffered considerably
from being obliged to carry unusual loads over wet and rough
"carries,"--in one instance five miles through a swamp, where the
water was frequently up to our knees, and the fallen timber higher
than our heads. He went over the ground three times, not being able to
carry all his load at once. This prevented his ascending Ktaadn. Our
best nights were those when it rained the hardest, on account of the
mosquitoes. I speak of these things, which were not unexpected, merely
to account for my not inviting you.
Having returned, I flatter myself that the world appears in some
respects a little larger, and not, as usual, smaller and shallower,
for having extended my range. I have made a short excursion into the
new world which the Indian dwells in, or is. He begins where we leave
off. It is worth the while to detect new faculties in man,--he is so
much the more divine; and anything that fairly excites our admiration
expands us. The Indian, who can find his way so wonderfully in the
woods, possesses so much intelligence which the white man does
not,--and it increases my own capacity, as well as faith, to observe
it. I rejoice to find that intelligence flows in other channels than I
knew. It redeems for me portions of what seemed brutish before.
It is a great satisfaction to find that your oldest convictions are
permanent. With regard to essentials, I have never had occasion to
change my mind. The aspect of the world varies from year to year, as
the landscape is differently clothed, but I find that the _truth_ is
still _true_, and I never regret any emphasis which it may have
inspired. Ktaadn is there still, but much more surely my old
conviction is there, resting with more than mountain breadth and
weight on the world, the source still of fertilizing streams, and
affording glorious views from its summit, if I can get up to it again.
As the mountains still stand on the plain, and far more unchangeable
and permanent,--stand still grouped around, farther or nearer to my
maturer eye, the ideas which I have entertained,--the everlasting
teats from which we draw our nourishment.