ised.
To arrest the passing utterances of the hour, and reveal to the world
that which was spoken either in the innermost circle of home affection,
or in the outer (but still guarded) circle of social or friendly
intercourse, seems almost like a betrayal of confidence, and is a step
which cannot be taken by survivors without some feelings of hesitation
and reluctance. That reluctance is only to be overcome by the sense
that, however natural, it is partly founded on delusion--a delusion
which leads us to personify "the world," to our imagination, as an
obtuse and somewhat hostile individual, who is certain to take things by
the wrong handle, and cannot be trusted to make the needful allowance,
and supply the inevitable omissions. Whereas it is a more reasonable and
a more comfortable belief, that the only part of the world which is in
the least likely to concern itself with such volumes as these is
composed of a number of enlightened and sympathetic persons' (as before,
Preface, vii. viii.). The closing consideration ought to overweigh all
scruples and reserve.[10]

[10] The charming 'Journal' in full of Miss WORDSWORTH has only within
the past year been published. The welcome it has met with--having
bounded into a third edition already--is at once proof of the soundness
of judgment that at long-last issued it, if it be also accusatory that
many have gone who yearned to read it. The Editor ventures to invite
special attention to WORDSWORTH'S own express wish that the foreign
'Journals' of Miss WORDSWORTH and Mrs. WORDSWORTH should be published.
Surely _his_ words ought to be imperative (vol. iii. p. 77)?

There _is_ the select circle of lovers of WORDSWORTH--yearly
widening--and there are the far-off multitudes of the future to whom
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH will be the grand name of the 18th-19th century, and
all that SHAKESPEARE and MILTON are now; and consequently the letters of
one so chary in letter-writing ought to be put beyond the risks of loss,
and given to Literature in entirety and trueness. WORDSWORTH had a
morbid dislike of writing letters, his weak eyes throughout rendering
all penmanship painful; but the present Editor, while conceding that his
letters lack the charm of style of COWPER'S, and the vividness and
passion of BYRON'S, finds in them, even the hastiest, matter of rarest
biographic and interpretative value. He was not a great sentencemaker;
in a way prided himself that his letters were so (intentionally