of the time in one
respect: his brethren allowed sense to intrude when it did not mar the
sound, but he does not allow it to intrude at all. For example, consider
this figure, which he used in the village "Address" referred to with
such candid complacency in the title-page above quoted--"like the
topmost topaz of an ancient tower." Please read it again; contemplate
it; measure it; walk around it; climb up it; try to get at an
approximate realization of the size of it. Is the fellow to that to be
found in literature, ancient or modern, foreign or domestic, living or
dead, drunk or sober? One notices how fine and grand it sounds. We know
that if it was loftily uttered, it got a noble burst of applause from
the villagers; yet there isn't a ray of sense in it, or meaning to it.

McClintock finished his education at Yale in 1843, and came to Hartford
on a visit that same year. I have talked with men who at that time
talked with him, and felt of him, and knew he was real. One needs to
remember that fact and to keep fast hold of it; it is the only way to
keep McClintock's book from undermining one's faith in McClintock's
actuality.

As to the book. The first four pages are devoted to an inflamed
eulogy of Woman--simply woman in general, or perhaps as an
institution--wherein, among other compliments to her details, he pays a
unique one to her voice. He says it "fills the breast with fond alarms,
echoed by every rill." It sounds well enough, but it is not true. After
the eulogy he takes up his real work and the novel begins. It begins in
the woods, near the village of Sunflower Hill.

Brightening clouds seemed to rise from the mist of the fair
Chattahoochee, to spread their beauty over the thick forest, to guide
the hero whose bosom beats with aspirations to conquer the enemy that
would tarnish his name, and to win back the admiration of his long-tried
friend.

It seems a general remark, but it is not general; the hero mentioned is
the to-be hero of the book; and in this abrupt fashion, and without
name or description, he is shoveled into the tale. "With aspirations to
conquer the enemy that would tarnish his name" is merely a phrase flung
in for the sake of the sound--let it not mislead the reader. No one is
trying to tarnish this person; no one has thought of it. The rest of the
sentence is also merely a phrase; the man has no friend as yet, and
of course has had no chance to try him, or win back his admiration, or
d