Just came across this little passage in The Shirley Letters from California Mines in 1851-52:
Among other oddities, there is a person here who is a rabi admirer of Lippard. I have heard him gravely affirm that Lippard was the greatest author the world ever saw, and that if one of his novels and the most fascinating work of ancient or modern times lay side by side, he would choose the former, even though he had already repeatedly perused it. He studies Lippard just like other folks do Shakespeare, and yet the man has read and admires the majestic prose of Chilton, and is quite familiar with the best English Classics.
Gratifying to find myself described over a hundred years before my birth.