He says: "Did he" (the reader) "ever amuse himself by searching the pocket of a child--three years old, suppose--when buried in slumber, after a long summer's day of out-a-doors intense activity? I have done this; and, for the amusement of the child's mother, have analyzed the contents and drawn up a formal register of the whole. Philosophy is puzzled, conjecture and hypothesis are confounded, in the attempt to explain the law of selection which _can_ have presided in the child's labors: stones, remarkable only for weight, old rusty hinges, nails, crooked skewers stolen when the cook had turned her back, rags, broken glass, tea-cups having the bottom knocked out, and loads of similar jewels, were the prevailing articles in this _proces verbal_. Yet, doubtless, much labor had been incurred, some sense of danger, perhaps, had been faced, and the anxieties of a conscious robber endured, in order to amass this splendid treasure. Such, in value, were the robberies of Coleridge; such their usefulness to himself or anybody else; and such the circumstances of uneasiness under which he had committed them. I return to my narrative." "So much for Buckingham." Pity he wandered from his "narrative" at all. But he also says, and previous to the foregoing extract, in giving his reason for noticing the subject at all: "Dismissing, however, this subject, which I have at all noticed only that I might anticipate and (in old English) that I might _prevent_ the uncandid interpreter of its meaning."... Then it is that he goes on to state that he believes him to have been as original in his capital pretensions as any man that ever lived, as before noticed. Being such a small matter, it is "really too bad" that he should thus waste his labor of love. Had he read Coleridge more faithfully, he would have found that he had made over to Shelling everything which the reader might think resembled the doctrines of the latter. And this was, perhaps, the best, and about the only thing he could have done, for undoubtedly the ideas of the two men were so similar, having taken the same course in their philosophical studies, that it must have been perplexing, and may have been impossible, for Coleridge to tell "which was whose."