listened to his oratory in Parliament or from the hustings,--
there must be tens of thousands whose interest in history and
literature he has awakened and informed by his pen, and who would
gladly know what manner of man it was that has done them so great
a service.

To gratify that most legitimate wish is the duty of those who have
the means at their command. His lifelike image is indelibly
impressed upon their minds, (for how could it be otherwise with
any who had enjoyed so close relations with such a man?) although
the skill which can reproduce that image before the general eye
may well be wanting. But his own letters will supply the
deficiencies of the biographer. Never did any one leave behind him
more copious materials for enabling others to put together a
narrative which might be the history, not indeed of his times, but
of the man himself. For in the first place he so soon showed
promise of being one who would give those among whom his early
years were passed reason to be proud, and still more certain
assurance that he would never afford them cause for shame, that
what he wrote was preserved with a care very seldom bestowed on
childish compositions; and the value set upon his letters by those
with whom he corresponded naturally enough increased as years went
on. And in the next place he was by nature so incapable of
affectation or concealment that he could not write otherwise than
as he felt, and, to one person at least, could never refrain from
writing all that he felt; so that we may read in his letters, as
in a clear mirror, his opinions and inclinations, his hopes and
affections, at every succeeding period of his existence. Such
letters could never have been submitted to an editor not connected
with both correspondents by the strongest ties; and even one who