Abstract
EMERSON'S manifesto proclaiming the spirit of the Dial reads nowadays as one more straw in the wind of Romanticism, and doubtless appears far less radical than it did in July, 1840. In spite of the brave foreword, the journal was to be relatively short-lived, always in debt, precariously dependent on unpaid contributions, and consequently pretty or curious almost as often as it was inspired. The magazine disappointed its editors, who always hoped for better things and set themselves cosmic aspirations: years later, Emerson said of it:
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