’But wit, poet, man of honor, tailor’s grandson and fairy’s favorite, he must speak for himself, and the best that can be felt or thought of him cannot be said in the way of criticism.  I will copy and keep a few of his songs.  I should like to keep the whole collection by me, and take it up when my faith in human nature required the gentlest of fortifying draughts.

    ’How fine his answer to those who asked about the “de” before
    his name!—­

      ’"Je suis vilain,
      Vilain, vilain,” &c. 
      J’honore une race commune,
      Car, sensible, quoique malin,
      Je n’ai flatte que l’infortune.”

’In a note to “Couplets on M. Laisney, imprimeur a Peronne,” he says:  “It was in his printing-house that I was put to prentice; not having been able to learn orthography, he imparted to me the taste for poetry, gave me lessons in versification, and corrected my first essays.”

    ’Of Bonaparte,—­

      ’"Un conquerant, dans sa fortune altiere,
      Se fit un jeu des sceptres et des lois,
      Et de ses pieds on peut voir la poussiere
      Empreinte encore sur le bandeau des rois.”

    ’I admire, also, “Le Violon brise,” for its grace and
    sweetness.  How fine Beranger on Waterloo!—­

      ‘"Its name shall never sadden verse of mine."’

TO R.W.E.

’Niagara, 1st June, 1843.—­I send you a token, made by the hands of some Seneca Indian lady.  If you use it for a watch-pocket, hang it, when you travel, at the head of your bed, and you may dream of Niagara.  If you use it for a purse, you can put in it alms for poets and artists, and the subscription-money you receive for Mr. Carlyle’s book.  His book, as it happened, you gave me as a birthday gift, and you may take this as one to you; for, on yours, was W.’s birthday, J.’s wedding-day, and the day of ——­’s death, and we set out on this journey.  Perhaps there is something about it on the purse.  The “number five which nature loves,” is repeated on it.

’Carlyle’s book I have, in some sense, read.  It is witty, full of pictures, as usual.  I would have gone through with it, if only for the sketch of Samson, and two or three bits of fun which happen to please me.  No doubt it may be of use to rouse the unthinking to a sense of those great dangers and sorrows.  But how open is he to his own assault.  He rails himself out of breath at the short-sighted, and yet sees scarce a step before him.  There is no valuable doctrine in his book, except the Goethean, Do to-day the nearest duty.  Many are ready for that, could they but find the way.  This he does not show.  His proposed measures say nothing.  Educate the people.  That cannot be done by books, or voluntary effort, under these paralyzing circumstances.  Emigration!  According to his own estimate of the increase of population, relief that way can have very slight