Oct. 1013.I SPEND a good deal of time on the Common, these delicious days and nightsevery mid-day from 11.30 to about 1and almost every sunset another hour. I know all the big trees, especially the old elms along Tremont and Beacon streets, and have come to a sociable-silent understanding with most of them, in the sunlit air, (yet crispy-cool enough,) as I saunter along the wide unpaved walks. Up and down this breadth by Beacon street, between these same old elms, I walkd for two hours, of a bright sharp February mid-day twenty-one years ago, with Emerson, then in his prime, keen, physically and morally magnetic, armd at every point, and when he chose, wielding the emotional just as well as the intellectual. During those two hours he was the talker and I the listener. It was an argument-statement, reconnoitring, review, attack, and pressing home, (like an army corps in order, artillery, cavalry, infantry,) of all that could be said against that part (and a main part) in the construction of my poems, Children of Adam. More precious than gold to me that dissertationit afforded me, ever after, this strange and paradoxical lesson; each point of E.s statement was unanswerable, no judges charge ever more complete or convincing, I could never hear the points better putand then I felt down in my soul the clear and unmistakable conviction to disobey all, and pursue my own way. What have you to say then to such things? said E., pausing in conclusion. Only that while I cant answer them at all, I feel more settled than ever to adhere to my own theory, and exemplify it, was my candid response. Whereupon we went and had a good dinner at the American House. And thenceforward I never waverd or was touchd with qualms, (as I confess I had been two or three times before).