dowy scenes of indefinite grandeur, done
with a few strong, words and magnificent adjectives; and now a little
paragraph, charming in its exquisite daintiness, like a miniature rarely
done upon the face of a costly gem. It is in this word-painting that he
is surpassingly admirable. Delineation, description, portraiture are his
forte. The same quality of mind which gives dreams of princely men and
divine women seems to have brought also a generous endowment of warm,
rich words, wherewith to do justice to the imaginings. All the beauty,
dignity, and glory of English logography seem to be his: he marshals an
array of adjectives and phrases which seem all of the blood royal of our
munificent mother tongue. Oftentimes his page sounds like the
deep-rolling anthem of a mighty cathedral organ. Might and music are in
his syllables; and without sifting his sentences for a noble thought or
a beautiful idea, we may be pleased by the stately tread of their
succession, and their rich harmonious cadences.

The scenes are apt to be rather melodramatic. Wonderful passions work
wonderfully. Eyes flash, lips are set, cheeks grow pale, quite often.
Great coolness, vast powers, are continually displayed; yet they are
well displayed, after the fashion of gentlemen, not of bravoes or
villains or highwaymen. He handles thunder and lightning, the terrific
weapons of the mighty Jove himself, in a very haughty, Jove-like
manner, it must be confessed. He isn't afraid of singing his fingers
with the thunderbolts, but seizes them with the familiar gripe of
unquestionable authority. In a glorified language he paints glorified
visions. Very little of the calm domestic sunlight of the working
noonday glimmers among his pages, but a perpetual, everlasting
gorgeousness of deep-colored sunset radiance. For merit of style all
these novels are well worthy of commendation and of study. Education and
extensive reading have preserved them from faults of gaudiness and
meretricious ornament. They are chastened by good taste and regulated by
gentlemanly cultivation. They are written by a scholar, and not by a
scribbler; and while reading their magnificent pages we need have no
misgiving that we are admiring the flashy ornaments of wordy or
half-educated mediocrity. Far the best of them is also the first, 'Guy
Livingstone.' The poorest is 'Sword and Gown;' this has the feeblest
plot, in fact a mere apology for a story, and contains more passages
which seem unfinis