sufficiently considered. Miss Fuller has erred, too, through her own
excessive objectiveness. She judges _woman_ by the heart and intellect
of Miss Fuller, but there are not more than one or two dozen Miss
Fullers on the whole face of the earth. Holding these opinions in
regard to 'Woman in the Nineteenth Century,' I still feel myself
called upon to disavow the silly, condemnatory criticism of the
work which appeared in one of the earlier numbers of "_The Broadway
Journal_." That article was _not_ written by myself, and _was_ written
by my associate, Mr. Briggs.

"The most favorable estimate of Miss Fuller's genius (for high genius
she unquestionably possesses) is to be obtained, perhaps, from her
contributions to 'The Dial,' and from her 'Summer on the Lakes.' Many
of the _descriptions_ in this volume are unrivaled for _graphicality_,
(why is there not such a word?) for the force with which they convey
the true by the novel or unexpected, by the introduction of touches
which other artists would be sure to omit as irrelevant to the
subject. This faculty, too, springs from her subjectiveness, which
leads her to paint a scene less by its features than by its effects.

"Here, for example, is a portion of her account of Niagara:--

"'Daily these proportions widened and towered more and more
upon my sight, and I got at last a proper foreground for these
sublime distances. Before coming away, I think I really saw
the full wonder of the scene. After a while it _so drew me
into itself as to inspire an undefined dread, such as I never
knew before, such as may be felt when death is about to usher
us into a new existence_. The perpetual trampling of the
waters seized my senses. _I felt that no other sound, however