placed on the hill of Seudling, surpasses
in its gigantic proportions all the works of the moderns. It will have
to be removed in pieces from the foundry where it is cast to its place
of destination, and each piece will require sixteen horses to draw it.
The great toes are each half a metre in length. In the head two persons
could dance a polka very conveniently, while the nose might lodge the
musician. The thickness of the robe, which forms a rich drapery
descending to the ankles, is about six inches, and its circumference at
the bottom about two hundred metres. The Crown of Victory which the
figure holds in her hands weighs one hundred quintals (a quintal is a
hundred weight).

* * * * *

WORDSWORTH'S prose writings are not numerous; and with the exception of
the well-known prefaces to his minor poems, they are little known. A
paper or two in Coleridge's _Friend_, and a political tract occasioned
by the convention of Cintra, form important and valuable contributions
to the prose literature of the country. We would especially call
attention to the introductory part of the third volume of the _Friend_,
as containing a very beautiful development of Mr. Wordsworth's opinions
on the moral worth and intellectual character of the age in which it was
his destiny to live. The political tract is very scarce; but we may
safely affirm, that it contains some of the finest writing in the
English language. Many of its passages can be paralleled only by the
majestic periods of Milton's prose, or perhaps by the vehement and
impassioned eloquence of Demosthenes. Its tone is one of sustained
elevation, and in sententious moral and political wisdom it will bear a
comparison with the greatest productions of Burke. We trust that this
pamphlet will be republished. A collection and separate publication of
all Mr. Wordsworth's prose writings would form a valuable addition to
English literature.

Mr. Wordsworth's conversation was eminently rich, various, and
instructive. Attached to his mountain home, and loving solitude as the
nurse of his genius, he was no recluse, but keenly enjoyed the pleasures
of social intercourse. He had seen much of the world, and lived on terms
of intimate friendship with some of the most illustrious characters of
his day. His reading was extensive, but select; indeed, his mind could
assimilate only the greater productions of intellect. To criticism he
was habitually indifferent; an