Her MS. is fair, neat and legible, but formed somewhat too much upon the ordinary boarding-school model to afford any indication of character. The signature is a good specimen of the hand.
Mr. Richard Adams Locke is one among the few men of unquestionable genius whom the country possesses. Of the “Moon Hoax” it is supererogatory to say one word—not to know that argues one’s self unknown. Its rich imagination will long dwell in the memory of every one who read it, and surely if
the worth of any thing
Is just so much as it will bring—
if, in short, we are to judge of the value of a literary composition in any degree by its effect—then was the “Hoax” most precious.
But Mr. Locke is also a poet of high order. We have seen—nay more—we have heard him read—verses of his own which would make the fortune of two-thirds of our poetasters; and he is yet so modest as never to have published a volume of poems. As an editor—as a political writer—as a writer in general—we think that he has scarcely a superior in America. There is no man among us to whose sleeve we would rather pin—not our faith (of that we say nothing)—but our judgment.
His MS. is clear, bold and forcible—somewhat modified, no doubt, by the circumstances of his editorial position—but still sufficiently indicative of his fine intellect.