ted,) is Mr. _William A. Jones_, author of 'The Analyst.'
How he would write elaborate criticisms I cannot say; but his summary
judgments of authors are, in general, discriminative and profound. In
fact, his papers on _Emerson_ and on _Macaulay_, published in 'Arcturus.'
are better than merely 'profound,' if we take the word in its now
desecrated sense; for they are at once pointed, lucid, and just:--as
summaries leaving nothing to be desired."

I will not continue the display of these inconsistencies. As I have
Already intimated, a volume might be filled with passages to show that
his criticisms were guided by no sense of duty, and that his opinions
were so variable and so liable to be influenced by unworthy
considerations as to be really of no value whatever.

It was among his remarkable habits that he preserved with scrupulous care
everything that was published respecting himself or his works, and
everything that was written to him in letters that could be used in any
way for the establishment or extension of his reputation. In
Philadelphia, in 1843, he prepared with his own hands a sketch of his
life for a paper called "The Museum." Many parts of it are untrue, but I
refer to it for the purpose of quoting a characteristic instance of
perversion in the reproduction of compliments:

"Of 'William Wilson,' Mr. Washington Irving says: 'It is managed in a
highly picturesque style, and its singular and mysterious interest is
ably sustained throughout. In point of mere style, it is, perhaps, even
superior to 'The House of Usher.' It is simpler. In the latter
composition, he seems to have been distrustful of his effects, or,
rather, too solicitous of bringing them forth fully to the eye, and thus,
perhaps, has laid on too much coloring. He has erred, however, on the
safe side, that of exuberance, and the evil might easily be remedied, by
relieving the style of some of its epithets;' [since done.] 'There would
be no fear of injuring the graphic effect, _which is powerful_.' The
italics are Mr. Irving's own."

Now Mr. Irving had said in a private letter that he thought the "House of
Usher" Was clever, and that "a volume of similar stories would be well
received by the public." Poe sent him a magazine containing "William
Wilson," asking his opinion of it, and Mr. Irving, expressly declining to
_publish_ a word upon the subject, remarked in the same manner, that "the
singular and mysterious interest is well sustained," and th