CONTENTS
| I. | CARLYLE’S LAUGH | [1] |
| II. | A SHELLEY MANUSCRIPT | [13] |
| III. | A KEATS MANUSCRIPT | [21] |
| IV. | MASSASOIT, INDIAN CHIEF | [31] |
| V. | JAMES FENIMORE COOPER | [45] |
| VI. | CHARLES BROCKDEN BROWN | [55] |
| VII. | HENRY DAVID THOREAU | [65] |
| VIII. | EMERSON’S “FOOT-NOTE PERSON,”—ALCOTT | [75] |
| IX. | GEORGE BANCROFT | [93] |
| X. | CHARLES ELIOT NORTON | [119] |
| XI. | EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN | [137] |
| XII. | EDWARD EVERETT HALE | [157] |
| XIII. | A MASSACHUSETTS GENERAL, RUFUS SAXTON | [173] |
| XIV. | ONE OF THACKERAY’S WOMEN | [183] |
| XV. | JOHN BARTLETT | [191] |
| XVI. | HORACE ELISHA SCUDDER | [201] |
| XVII. | EDWARD ATKINSON | [213] |
| XVIII. | JAMES ELLIOT CABOT | [231] |
| XIX. | EMILY DICKINSON | [247] |
| XX. | JULIA WARD HOWE | [285] |
| XXI. | WILLIAM JAMES ROLFE | [313] |
| XXII. | GÖTTINGEN AND HARVARD A CENTURY AGO | [325] |
| XXIII. | OLD NEWPORT DAYS | [349] |
| XXIV. | A HALF-CENTURY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE | [367] |
I
CARLYLE’S LAUGH
CARLYLE’S LAUGH
None of the many sketches of Carlyle that have been published since his death have brought out quite distinctly enough the thing which struck me more forcibly than all else, when in the actual presence of the man; namely, the peculiar quality and expression of his laugh. It need hardly be said that there is a great deal in a laugh. One of the most telling pieces of oratory that ever reached my ears was Victor Hugo’s vindication, at the Voltaire Centenary in Paris, of that author’s smile. To be sure, Carlyle’s laugh was not like that smile, but it was something as inseparable from his personality, and as essential to the account, when making up one’s estimate of him. It was as individually characteristic as his face or his dress, or his way of talking or of writing. Indeed, it seemed indispensable for the explanation of all of these. I found in looking back upon my first interview with him, that all I had known of Carlyle through others, or through his own books, for twenty-five years, had been utterly defective,—had left out, in fact, the key to his whole nature,—inasmuch as nobody had ever described to me his laugh.