Africa of the novel-writing world—America was not then discovered. Mrs. Robinson took sentiment, and was eloquent on the misfortunes of genius: by genius was meant a young man who was very poor and very handsome, and who complained to the moon for a confidante; also, a beautiful young lady, whose affections were always placed contrary to the decrees of some cruel parent, and who had a noble contempt for money. Mrs. Smith took philosophy, was liberal and enlightened in her views, expatiated on how badly society was constituted, and, as a proof, her heroines—sweet innocent creatures—were continually being run away with against their will; and her hero had some fine-fangled theories, which always prevented his getting on in the world, till some distant relation left him heir to his wealth, or some rich heiress married him. Mrs. Radcliffe took terror, which, by the by, she never excited in me—I believe I did not read her romances when young enough. I always felt comfortable in the conviction that all the mysteries would be explained, if I did but go on. Schedoni, in all her works, is the only attempt at a character, and he is a fine Rembrandt; but her heroes, who wander about on a fine evening,
