The writer of contemporary biography has difficulties to encounter of which readers in general have no idea, and of which scarcely any other author can be correctly aware. The historian of past ages must indeed explore the dry, gloomy, and involved records of antiquity, must patiently wade through many an obsolete folio, and will frequently find himself bewildered in the maze of uncertainty; but, if his object be attainable, success will at length crown the exertions of the sedulous investigator; and, founded on an ample basis, a lofty superstructure will arise, and present to succeeding generations a lasting monument of mental skill. Not so with the more humble, though not less arduous, labours of him who engages in the task of presenting to the world the memoirs of living characters. If dictated by truth, his writings will, indeed, be referred to as authentic documents by future historians; but, as no life is complete until it has been closed, they are almost certain of being superseded, and seem only destined to form a component part of a more extended whole.

The necrologist has every previous collection before him, has seldom to complain of a paucity of materials, has but little more to do than to select, arrange, and combine.