of morning, neither are yet softened by the shadows of evening.
Every spot is seen, every chasm revealed. Climbing the dusty hill, some
fair effigies that once stood for human destiny have been broken. Yet
enough is left to point distinctly to the glories of that destiny."

Margaret gives us, as the end of the whole matter, this sentence:--

"Always the soul says to us all, Cherish your best hopes as a faith, and
abide by them in action.... Such shall be the effectual fervent means to
their fulfilment."

In this sunny noon of life things new and strange were awaiting
Margaret. Her days among kindred and country-people were nearly ended.
The last volume given by her to the American public was entitled "Papers
on Art and Literature." Of these, a number had already appeared in
print. In her preface she mentions the essay on "American Literature" as
one now published for the first time, and also as "a very imperfect
sketch," which she hopes to complete by some later utterance. She
commends it to us, however, as "written with sincere and earnest
feelings, and from a mind that cares for nothing but what is permanent
and essential." She thinks it should, therefore, have "some merit, if
only in the power of suggestion." It has for us the great interest of
making known Margaret's opinion of her compeers in literature, and with
her appreciation of these, not always just or adequate, her views of the
noble national life to which American literature, in its maturer growth,
should give expression.

Margaret says, at the outset, that "some thinkers" may accuse her of
writing about a thing that does not exist. "For," says she, "it does not
follow, because many books are written by persons born in America, that
there exists an American literature. Books which imitate or represent
the thoughts and life of Europe do not constitute an American
literature. Before such can exist, an original idea must animate this
nation, and fresh currents of life must call into life fresh thoughts
along its shores."

In reviewing these first sentences, we are led to say that they partly
commend themselves to our judgment, and partly do not. Here, as in much
that Margaret has written, a solid truth is found side by side with an
illusion. The statement that an American idea should lie at the
foundation of our national life and its expression is a truth too often
lost sight of by those to whom it most imports. On the other hand, the
great body of the w