The tale of which the title is given at the beginning of this section had been written several years before the date of its publication.  It is a great advance in certain respects over the first novel, but wants the peculiar interest which belonged to that as a partially autobiographical memoir.  The story is no longer disjointed and impossible.  It is carefully studied in regard to its main facts.  It has less to remind us of “Vivian Grey” and “Pelham,” and more that recalls “Woodstock” and “Kenilworth.”  The personages were many of them historical, though idealized; the occurrences were many of them such as the record authenticated; the localities were drawn largely from nature.  The story betrays marks of haste or carelessness in some portions, though others are elaborately studied.  His preface shows that the reception of his first book had made him timid and sensitive about the fate of the second, and explains and excuses what might be found fault with, to disarm the criticism he had some reason to fear.

That old watch-dog of our American literature, “The North American Review,” always ready with lambent phrases in stately “Articles” for native talent of a certain pretension, and wagging its appendix of “Critical Notices” kindly at the advent of humbler merit, treated “Merry-Mount” with the distinction implied in a review of nearly twenty pages.  This was a great contrast to the brief and slighting notice of “Morton’s Hope.”  The reviewer thinks the author’s descriptive power wholly exceeds his conception of character and invention of circumstances.

“He dwells, perhaps, too long and fondly upon his imagination of the landscape as it was before the stillness of the forest had been broken by the axe of the settler; but the picture is so finely drawn, with so much beauty of language and purity of sentiment, that we cannot blame him for lingering upon the scene. . . .  The story is not managed with much skill, but it has variety enough of incident and character, and is told with so much liveliness that few will be inclined to lay it down before reaching the conclusion. . . .  The writer certainly needs practice in elaborating the details of a consistent and interesting novel; but in many respects he is well qualified for the task, and we shall be glad to meet him again on the half-historical ground he has chosen.  His present work, certainly, is not a fair specimen of what he is able to accomplish, and its failure, or partial success, ought only to inspirit him for further effort.”

The “half-historical ground” he had chosen had already led him to the entrance into the broader domain of history.  The “further effort” for which he was to be inspirited had already begun.  He had been for some time, as was before mentioned, collecting materials for the work which was to cast all his former attempts into the kindly shadow of oblivion, save when from time to time the light of his brilliant after success is thrown upon them to illustrate the path by which it was at length attained.