ation of justice in its details. This is unquestionably true in the
present instance. Characteristics there are of Cooper's writings which
would and do repel many. Defects exist both in manner and matter. Part
of the unfavorable judgment he has received is due to the prevalence of
minor faults, disagreeable rather than positively bad. These, in many
cases, sprang from the quantity of what he did and the rapidity with
which he did it. The amount that Cooper wrote is something that in
fairness must always be taken into consideration. He who has crowded
into a single volume the experience of a life must concede that he
stands at great advantage as regards matters of detail, and especially
as regards perfection of form, with him who has manifested incessant
literary activity in countless ways. It was the immense quantity that
Cooper wrote and the haste and inevitable carelessness which wait upon
great production, that are responsible for many of his minor faults.
Incongruities in the conception of his tales, as well as in their (p. 272)
execution, often make their appearance. Singular blunders can be found
which escaped even his own notice in the final revision he gave his works.
In "Mercedes of Castile," for instance, the heroine presents her lover
on his outward passage with a cross framed of sapphire stones. These,
she tells him, are emblems of fidelity. When she comes to inquire about
them after his return she speaks of them as turquoise. Again, in "The
Deerslayer" three castles of a curious set of chessmen are given in one
part of the story to the Indians. Later on, two other castles of the
same set make their appearance. This is a singular mistake for Cooper to
overlook, for chess was a game of which he was very fond.

In the matter of language this rapidity and carelessness often
degenerated into downright slovenliness. It was bad enough to resort to
the same expedients and to repeat the same scenes. Still from this
charge few prolific novelists can be freed. But in Cooper there were
often words and phrases which he worked to death. In "The Wept of
Wish-ton-Wish" there is so perpetual a reference to the quiet way in
which the younger Heathcote talks and acts that it has finally anything
but a quieting effect upon the reader's feelings. In "The Headsman of
Berne," "warm" in the sense of "well-to-do," a disagreeable usage at
best, occurs again and again, until the feeling of disagreeableness it
inspires at first become