Neither of the first two books is marked by a buoyant Americanism. _Outre-Mer_ does not, for example, suggest _A Tramp Abroad_, and certainly Paul Flemming is no kinsman of ‘Harris.’ In other words, Europe was as yet too remote to be made the subject of easy jest. Men did not ‘run over’ to the Continent. The trip cost them dear in time and money, and was not without the element of anticipated danger. Travelling America was unsophisticated and viewed the Old World with childlike curiosity. Foreign lands were transfigured in the romantic haze through which they were seen. The chapters of _Outre-Mer_ were written by a man too intoxicated with the charm of European life to be annoyed by the petty irritations that worry hardened tourists. Rouen, Paris, Auteuil, Madrid, El Pardillo, Rome in midsummer, afford the Pilgrim only delight. As in all books of the kind there are interpolated stones, and in this book interpolated literary essays. Every page betrays the student and the lover of literature, who quotes Jeremy Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne at Père la Chaise, James Howell at Venice, and Shakespeare everywhere. _Hyperion_ is steeped in sentiment--almost in sentimentality. Such a book could only have been written when the heart was young. It is a mistake, however, to read the volume as an autobiography; the author objected to its being so read. More important than the love story are the romantic descriptions of the Rhine and the Swiss Alps and the golden atmosphere enveloping it all. Both these books have a common object, namely, to interpret the Old World to the New. When _Outre-Mer_ was published an admirer said that the author of _The Sketch Book_ must look to his laurels. The praise implied was extravagant, but not groundless. Longfellow’s prose has a measure of the sweetness and urbanity which we associate with Irving. Both writers are classic in their serenity, and if highly artificial at times never absurdly stilted. They often appear in old-fashioned dress, but they wear the costume easily and it becomes them. The modern reader, with a taste dulled by high seasoning, marvels how the grandparents could find pleasure in _Hyperion_. It would be to the modern reader’s advantage to forswear sack for a while and get himself into a condition to enjoy what so greatly delighted the grandparents.