it, that it contained a promise of the powers which its author afterwards
put forth.

Thirty years ago, in the year 1821, and in the thirty-second of his life,
Cooper published the first of the works by which he will be known to
posterity, the _Spy_. It took the reading world by a kind of surprise; its
merit was acknowledged by a rapid sale; the public read with eagerness and
the critics wondered. Many withheld their commendations on account of
defects in the plot or blemishes in the composition, arising from want of
practice, and some waited till they could hear the judgment of European
readers. Yet there were not wanting critics in this country, of whose
good opinion any author in any part of the world might be proud, who spoke
of it in terms it deserved. "Are you not delighted," wrote a literary
friend to me, who has since risen to high distinction as a writer, both in
verse and in prose, "are you not delighted with the _Spy_, as a work of
infinite spirit and genius?" In that word genius lay the explanation of
the hold which the work had taken on the minds of men. What it had of
excellence was peculiar and unborrowed; its pictures of life, whether in
repose or activity, were drawn, with broad lights and shadows, immediately
from living originals in nature or in his own imagination. To him,
whatever he described was true; it was made a reality to him by the
strength with which he conceived it. His power in the delineation of
character was shown in the principal personage of his story, Harvey Birch,
on whom, though he has chosen to employ him in the ignoble office of a
spy, and endowed him with the qualities necessary to his
profession,--extreme circumspection, fertility in stratagem, and the art
of concealing his real character--qualities which, in conjunction with
selfishness and greediness, make the scoundrel, he has bestowed the
virtues of generosity, magnanimity, an intense love of country, a fidelity
not to be corrupted, and a disinterestedness beyond temptation. Out of