very few reviews of Longfellow's poems, ever published in America,
of which the critics have not had abundant reason to be ashamed. Mr.
Longfellow is entitled to a certain and very distinguished rank among
the poets of his country, but that country is disgraced by the evident
toadyism which would award to his social position and influence, to
his fine paper and large type, to his morocco binding and gilt edges,
to his flattering portrait of himself, and to the illustrations of his
poems by Huntingdon, that amount of indiscriminate approbation which
neither could nor would have been given to the poems themselves. The
defense of Harro Harring, or rather the philippic against those who
were doing him wrong, was one of the most eloquent and well-_put_
articles I have ever yet seen in a newspaper.

"'Woman in the Nineteenth Century' is a book which few women in the
country could have written, and no woman in the country would
have published, with the exception of Miss Fuller. In the way of
independence, of unmitigated radicalism, it is one of the 'Curiosities
of American Literature,' and Doctor Griswold should include it in
his book. I need scarcely say that the essay is nervous, forcible,
suggestive, brilliant, and to a certain extent scholar-like--for
all that Miss Fuller produces is entitled to these epithets--but I
must say that the conclusions reached are only in part my own. Not
that they are bold, by any means--too novel, too startling or too
dangerous in their consequences, but that in their attainment too many
premises have been distorted, and too many analogical inferences left
altogether out of sight. I mean to say that the intention of the Deity
as regards sexual differences--an intention which can be distinctly
comprehended only by throwing the exterior (more sensitive) portions
of the mental retina _casually_ over the wide field of universal
_analogy_--I mean to say that this _intention_ has not been