every day warns us that the fairest earthly hopes bloom only for the grave." It was a fit caution against too sanguine expectations to any one just entering upon a new enterprise; but to his heart it had a deep significance, for he had lately been called to part with a little son, to whom he had given a name which he always loved to speak, George Herbert, and who, although not four years old, had become the almost constant companion of his father in his walks. The depth of anguish occasioned by this affliction was in accordance with the profoundness of his love, and with the hopes which he had garnered up in this child. For a long time, his heart refused to be comforted, and there is one who will always remember how an allusion, months afterward, to West's painting of "Death on the Pale Horse," seemed to strike him almost like a blow.

"Our little George," he writes after his death, "the delight of our existence, left us on Saturday morning last, at eight o'clock."-" We shall see his face no more. The dispensation is doubtless ordered in infinite justice and mercy, but now clouds and darkness seem to rest upon it. Our habitation is desolate and our hearts are sick with grief. It appears to me to be impossible to live without him. He had so identified himself with every thing which I did, that it seems like tearing away a part of my own life. I have sometimes said, with the disciples, 'Let me go and die with him."" Vol. i. p. 348.

To those who knew Professor Edwards but slightly, it might seem strange that he was listened to with so much delight as a preacher, and was called so often to address public assemblies on occasions where the graces and freedom of oratory are usually expected. But those who heard him felt the charm, though they might not be able to detect its causes. It lay not only in the richness or beauty of thought, of thought saturated with affection, but also in an indescribable heartiness and sincerity; in a high moral earnestness with which he seemed inspired, and which impelled every utterance, that sweet informing spirit which would imperceptibly melt into the heart of the hearer, and, before he was aware, allure every gentle and pious affection to meet it. His manner would perhaps, at first, be uninteresting to a stranger; and yet it was so honest and unaffected, that countenance, with

its noble expanse of forehead, would so light up as he rose to the climax of the thought which moved him, that it must have been a hard, or coarse, or superficial nature, which would cling to an outward infelicity, and not rather be deeply touched by the beauty and strength of the soul. How distinctly we can see him, now stooping over the pulpit, (his eyes, from some slight defect of vision, requiring him to bend close to the manuscript,) and then, as the sentence drew to its close, rising to the full erect posture, and standing for a moment, still and firm, as if planting himself anew on the truth he had just developed, his countenance beaming with a suppressed radiance, and his eye moving gently for an instant over his hearers, as if looking to recognize some sign of sympathy.

The address, in these volumes, which will give the best idea of Mr. Edward's method on such occasions is, perhaps, that on The Roman Catholic Religion in Italy. We would gladly stop to give an analysis of it, and a few extracts, to show the candor and excellence of the discussion. But we pass to the selection of one or two passages from the Review of Wordsworth, written in 1836, which show both his own spirit, and the love with which he regarded the poet whose works he was so familiar with. He is enumerating some of the causes of the unpopularity of the poet.

“We fear, however, that the causes of this general dislike to Wordsworth lie deeper. We apprehend that there are certain things connected with the intellectual and active habits of the people of this country not wholly favorable to a proper estimate of a great poet. This tendency in the general mind is developed in various ways. There is a resolute repugnance to the authority of distinguished names. In past ages, concurrence in judgment on the part of a few leading minds was considered to be probable evidence of the soundness of that judgment. But such concurrence now is regarded as a suspicious circumstance. The illustrious dead are dragged forth to meet the ordeal of a keen and unsanctified criticism. We cannot comfort ourselves with the memory of Socrates, but we must be confronted with the charges of some sophist or some tanner. We cannot exalt the human mind by recalling the names of Lord Bacon and of Robert Hall, but at the risk of hearing bribery laid at the door of the one, and opiumeating at that of the other. Every point in the moral character of a great man must be vindicated, before we can touch the productions which he has left as a precious legacy for all time.

"This habit of eagle-eyed and unhallowed criticism prevails in this country. A great name must have some opprobrious mark attached to it, because the man who wears that name is not absolutely perfect, or because the ardor of true genius has not been, in every instance, united to a most scrupulous accuracy. Now when we open the pages of an author of any repute, we need to cherish reverence and humility. We must have some faith in his power to enlighten and instruct us. We must not carry a hard heart in our bosoms, nor a tomahawk in our hands. We must throw aside prejudice, and be ready to weigh, inwardly digest, love, and treasure up. Wordsworth has spent a long life in the study of his noble art. He is educated in the mysteries of his calling. In addition to a large measure of natural sensibility, he has qualified himself by a patient study of nature and of the human faculties. Is he then not entitled to our confidence? May we not challenge for him, as a passport to his writings, what multitudes in our days are so willing to abjure, a worthy name, a high authority?

"There is, moreover, in this country, too much of sectarian judgment. An author must be of our political or religious creed, or we cannot tolerate him. He must entertain precisely the same notions with ourselves on the questions of liberty, church and state, the authority of bishops, etc. If one of another communion furnishes a book of poetry, our first questions are: Does he believe in the divine right of kings? Is he sufficiently anti-popish? Is there not some political or religious heresy couched under his hexameters? Such extreme suspiciousness shows that we are in some doubt about the foundations of our own faith. It also indicates a state of heart totally unfit to come into the presence of a master-spirit of our race. It may be important, in some respects, to know that Lord Bacon was a churchman, and a chancellor, and not wholly free from the sin of believing in alchemy. But what have these things to do with the general estimate of his writings? So of Wordsworth. His views on church government, and on republicanism, may not coincide with those generally entertained in this country. But can we not rise superior to such considerations? Is he not a man and a poet? Does he not treat of human sympathies? Does he not speak a universal language? Has he not shed a benign light on the truth which is never to perish, on questions interesting to man in all states and stages of his being? We look on the poet as the benefactor of our race. In perusing his works, we feel a new interest, not alone in our English descent; a new bond of affection, not alone for our mother speech. The poet has enlarged the sphere of human knowledge; he has quickened the sympathies of our common humanity." Vol. ii. pp. 186-188.

"In what sense Wordsworth is a religious poet, will be apparent from subsequent extracts. He is an earnest supporter and a devout member of the Church of England. The government, the rites and ceremonies, the doctrines, and all the glorious recollections of that communion, are cherished themes, and pervade much of his poetry. Whether he might not have more distinctly recognized the great truth of the Christian system, we shall not now attempt to decide. The spiritual being of man, his dependence and moral weakness, his immortality, the glories of the Divine Existence, are illustrated frequently and with great force. With some expressions of the early moral innocence of children, the efficacy of the initiatory Christian rite, and the tenderness with which some errors are mentioned, we cannot sympathize. The language at least is liable to misconstruction, and it does not well accord with sentiments elsewhere exhibited. Wordsworth will be read in the better days of the Christian Church. His pure strains will be a feast to regenerate spirits. Beside Spenser and Milton and Cowper, he may take his seat on the hill of Zion. For the world's benefit, we are anxious that he should be fully identified with the elect spirits. Long has he contended for this high distinction. Sweet and immortal his reward!' Ibid. pp. 197, 198.

We here take our leave of these volumes, expressing our thanks to Professor Park for his labor in preparing them, and only regretting, that it was not thought best to give more copious extracts from that correspondence which we more than conjecture must exist, and which even in the glimpses that we have of it, affords the best picture of an inward life so beautiful and true. We may seem to have spoken in the language of eulogy rather than of criticism; but on a deliberate reviewal, we think we have kept within the limits of strict justice and truth. It is almost superfluous, after what we have written, to commend them to the attention of the student, as affording a rare example of the true spirit of a scholar, and especially to the younger members of that profession with which Professor Edwards was connected, and for which he spent the best energies of his life.

ART. XI. Historical and Statistical Information respecting the History, Condition, and Prospects of the Indian Tribes of the United States; collected and prepared under the Direction of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, per Act of Congress of March 3d, 1847. By HENRY R. SCHOOLCRAFT, LL. D. Illustrated by S. EASTMAN, Capt. U. S. A. Published by Authority of Congress. Parts I., II., and III. Philadelphia: Lippincott, Grambo, & Co. 1851-53. 3 vols.

4to. pp. 568, 608, & 635.

EACH of these volumes is thirteen inches long, eleven inches broad, nearly three inches thick, and weighs exactly ten pounds. An aggregate weight of thirty pounds of "Historical and Statistical Information" about the Indians is enough to daunt even a painstaking critic, who has scruples about the practice of reviewing books before reading them; but these volumes are as attractive in external appearance as they are ponderous. All the resources of the typographical art, of the paper-maker, the designer, and the engraver, have been lavished upon them. It is a luxury for the eye to rest upon the large expanse of their faultless pages, whose virgin whiteness is broken only by the firm impression of the well-cut types, every letter standing out with as much clearness and precision as if engraved in agate. And that the reader may not be sated by mere typographical wealth, the volumes are adorned with a profusion of engravings, all in the most finished style of art. Many of these are of the most costly kind of line engraving upon steel; some are richly colored lithographs, some are admirably executed woodcuts, and others still are specimens of some refinement in the art which we cannot more particularly describe. On the whole, the volumes are the most sumptuous that have yet appeared in our country, and their publication may fairly be said to form an era in the art of American bookmaking.

The volumes merit attention in another respect, besides their beauty and costliness. As there are no Lord Kingsboroughs in this country, willing to lavish a princely fortune upon the publication of a single magnificent work on Indian