clxxxii LIFE OF WILSON. 



tongue, it is indispensable that one should qualify one's self for 

 the task, by a careful investigation of its principles. But when 

 the language of barbarians becomes the subject of attention, the 

 rule is reversed, and, provided a copious list of names be given, 

 it is not required of the collector, that he should have explored 

 the sources whence they are derived: his learning is estimated 

 by the measure of his labour, and our applause is taxed in pro- 

 portion to his verbosity. 



The style of Wilson appears to be well adapted to the sub- 

 jects upon which he wrote. It is seldom feeble, it is sometimes 

 vigorous, and it is generally neat. He appears to have " un- 

 derstood himself, and his readers always understand him." 

 That he was capable of graceful writing, he has given us, in the 

 preface to his first volume, which we here insert, a remarkable 

 instance; which is one of the happiest, and most appropriate, 

 compositions that our literature can boast of. 



" The whole use of a preface seems to be, either to elucidate 

 the nature and origin of the work, or to invoke the clemency 

 of the reader. Such observations as have been thought neces- 

 sary for the former, will be found in the Introduction ; extreme- 

 ly solicitous to obtain the latter, I beg leave to relate the fol- 

 lowing anecdote. 



" In one of my late visits to a friend's in the country, I found 

 their youngest son, a fine boy of eight or nine years of age, who 

 usually resides in town for his education, just returning from a 

 ramble through the neighbouring woods and fields, where he had 

 collected a large and very handsome bunch of wild flowers, of 

 a great many different colours; and presenting them to his mo- 

 ther, said, with much animation in his countenance, * Look, 

 < my dear 'ma, what beautiful flowers I have found growing 



* on our place ! Why all the woods are full of them ! red, orange, 

 6 blue, and 'most every colour. 0, I can gather you a whole 

 6 parcel of them, much handsomer than these, all growing in 



* our own woods! Shall I, 'ma? Shall I go and bring you more?' 

 The good woman received the bunch of flowers with a smile of 

 affectionate complacency; and after admiring for some time the 



