in a world of his own that when he comes down into the real and practical (everything being strange to him), he notices minutia that would escape the habituated vision, and his remarks accordingly have wonderful freshness and point. But in going to England, which was as unfamiliar to the eyes of other travellers as to his own, he has reported things which we had already heard many times. I heard the lecture at our Cambridge Lyceum, and, as his diction was somewhat peculiar, I was much amused by watching the audience. I saw one worthy joiner repeatedly and vigorously scratching the outside of his head in the hope of exciting a corresponding vivacity within — but he at last gave it up as useless. A new edition of E.'s works is to appear with a portrait. C. [Cheney] is to draw it, which I am sorry for. His heads are always graceful and spiritual, but they are wanting in that punctilious veracity which gives to a portrait its whole worth. Yet he gives the expression of the person quite wonderfully. I went to his room once, some half a dozen years ago, and saw, among other heads, one of a little
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