by history. It is worth while to consider, in this regard, an extract from the Journal of Sir Walter Scott in which he mentions an anonymous letter sent him from Italy, and full of acute, acrid criticisms on the "Life of Bonaparte." "The tone is decidedly hostile," says Sir Walter calmly, "but that shall not prevent my making use of all his corrections, where just." It is a hard matter perhaps for smaller men to preserve this admirable tranquillity under assault; to say with Epictetus, "He little knew of my other shortcomings or he would not have mentioned these alone." Yet after all, it is an advantage to be told plainly what we need to know and cannot see for ourselves. I am sure that the most valuable lesson in literary perspective I ever received came from an anonymous reviewer, who reminded me curtly that "Mr. Saltus and Leopardi are not twins of the intellect." When I first saw that sentence I felt a throb of indignation that any one should believe, or affect to believe, that I ever for a moment supposed Mr. Saltus and Leopardi were twins of the intellect. Afterwards, when in calmer mood I re-read the essay criticised, I was
