My lethargies have not dulled my delight in good
books. I read these in the bright days of our new peace, which
added a lustre to every genial work. Now first we had a right to
read, for the very bookworms were driven out of doors whilst the
war lasted. I found in the book no trace of age, which your
letter so impressively claimed. In the book, the hand does not
shake, the mind is ubiquitous. The treatment is so spontaneous,
self-respecting, defiant,--liberties with your hero as if he were
your client, or your son, and you were proud of him, and yet can
check and chide him, and even put him in the corner when he is
not a good boy, freedoms with kings, and reputations, and
nations, yes, and with principles too,--that each reader, I
suppose, feels complimented by the confidences with which he is
honored by this free-tongued, masterful Hermes.--Who knows what
the [Greek] will say next? This humor of telling the story in a
gale,--bantering, scoffing, at the hero, at the enemy, at the
learned reporters,--is a perpetual flattery to the admiring
student,--the author abusing the whole world as mad dunces,--all
but you and I, reader! Ellery Channing borrowed my Volumes V.
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