“The Hollow of the Three Hills” we would quote in full, had we space;—not as evincing higher talent than any of the other pieces, but as affording an excellent example of the author’s peculiar ability. The subject is commonplace. A witch subjects the Distant and the Past to the view of a mourner. It has been the fashion to describe, in such cases, a mirror in which the images of the absent appear; or a cloud of smoke is made to arise, and thence the figures are gradually unfolded. Mr. Hawthorne has wonderfully heightened his effect by making the ear, in place of the eye, the medium by which the fantasy is conveyed. The head of the mourner is enveloped in the cloak of the witch, and within its magic folds there arise sounds which have an all-sufficient intelligence. Throughout this article also, the artist is conspicuous—not more in positive than in negative merits. Not only is all done that should be done, but (what perhaps is an end with more difficulty attained) there is nothing done which should not be. Every word _tells_, and there is not a word which does _not_ tell. In “Howe’s Masquerade” we observe something which resembles a plagiarism—but which _may be_ a very flattering coincidence of thought. We quote the passage in question. “_With a dark flush of wrath_ upon his brow they saw the general _draw his sword_ and _advance to meet_ the figure _in the cloak_ before the latter had stepped one pace upon the floor. “‘_Villain, unmuffle yourself_,’ cried he, ‘you pass no farther!’ “The figure, without blenching a hair’s breadth from the sword which was pointed at his breast, made a solemn pause, and _lowered the cape of the cloak_ from his face, yet not sufficiently for the spectators to catch a glimpse of it. But Sir William Howe had evidently seen enough. The sternness of his countenance gave place to a look of wild amazement, if not horror, while he recoiled several steps from the figure, _and let fall his sword_ upon the floor.”—See vol. 2, page 20. The idea here is, that the figure in the cloak is the phantom or reduplication of Sir William Howe; but in an article called “William Wilson,” one of the “Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque,” we have not only the same idea, but the same idea similarly presented in several respects. We quote two paragraphs, which our readers may compare with what has been already given. We have italicized, above, the immediate particulars of resemblance. “The brief moment in which I averted my eyes had been sufficient to produce, apparently, a material change in the arrangement at the upper or farther end of the room. A large mirror, it appeared to me, now stood where none had been perceptible before: and as I stepped up to it in extremity of terror, mine own image, but with features all pale and dabbled in blood, _advanced_ with a feeble and tottering gait to meet me.