The Literary World, Band 23

S.R. Crocker, 1892

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Seite 224 - I write by the coach the more speedily and effectually to prevent your coming hither. Perhaps by my fame (and I hope it is so) you mean only that celebrity which is a consideration of a much lower kind. I care for that only as it may give pleasure to my husband and his friends. " Farewell, dear Sir, and accept my best wishes. You have always commanded my esteem, and long enjoyed the fruits of a friendship never infringed by one harsh expression on my part during twenty years of familiar talk. Never...
Seite 18 - Thomas Jefferson. By John T. Morse, Jr. Daniel Webster. By Henry Cabot Lodge. Albert Gallatin. By John Austin Stevens. James Madison. By Sydney Howard Gay. John Adams. By John T. Morse, Jr.
Seite 224 - I have this morning received from you so rough a letter in reply to one which was both tenderly and respectfully written, that I am forced to desire the conclusion of a correspondence which I can bear to continue no longer.
Seite 63 - Gladstone. THE SPEECHES AND PUBLIC ADDRESSES OF THE RT. HON. WE GLADSTONE, MP With Notes and Introductions. Edited by AW HUTTON, MA (Librarian of the Gladstone Library), and HJ COHEN, MA With Portraits. 8vo. Vol. X. 12s. 6d. Russell. THE LIFE OF ADMIRAL LORD COLLINGWOOD. By W. CLARK RUSSELL, Author of
Seite 223 - Clarissa is not a. performance to be read with eagerness, and laid aside for ever ; but will be occasionally consulted by the busy, the aged, and the studious...
Seite 232 - Divinity taking outlines and color — light upon the souls of men as the butterfly, image of the beatified spirit rising from the dust, soars from the shell that held a poor grub, which would never have found wings, had not the stone been lifted. You never need think you can turn over any old falsehood without a terrible squirming and scattering of the horrid little population that dwells under it.
Seite 108 - To sleep ! to sleep ! The long bright day is done, And darkness rises from the fallen sun. To sleep ! to sleep ! Whate'er thy joys, they vanish with the day ; Whate'er thy griefs, in sleep they fade away. To sleep ! to sleep ! Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past ! Sleep, happy soul ! all life will sleep at last.
Seite 19 - Thus piteously Love closed what he begat: The union of this ever-diverse pair! These two were rapid falcons in a snare, Condemned to do the flitting of the bat. Lovers beneath the singing sky of May, They wandered once; clear as the dew on flowers: But they fed not on the advancing hours: Their hearts held cravings for the buried day. Then each applied to each that fatal knife, Deep questioning, which probes to endless dole. Ah, what a dusty answer gets the soul When hot for certainties in this our...
Seite 20 - But the most obvious defect of his prose is, as I have hinted, its want of equanimity. He is not so truly a writer of great prose as a great man writing in prose, and it is really Milton that we seek there more than anything else. He is great enough when we find him to repay a thousandfold what the search may have cost us. And when we meet him at his best, there is something in his commerce that fortifies the mind as only contact with a great character can.
Seite 107 - For the tender beech and the sapling oak, That grow by the shadowy rill, You may cut down both at a single stroke, You may cut down which you will. But this you must know, that as long as they grow, Whatever change may be, You can never teach either oak or beech To be aught but a greenwood tree.

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