Monthly Archives: July 2016

The Grandmother’s APOLOGY.

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BY ALFRED TENNYSON — I. AND Willy, my eldest born, is gone, you say, little Anne? Ruddy and white, and strong on his legs, he looks like a man. And Willy’s wife has written: she never was overwise, Never the … Continue reading

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NIGHT and MORNING.

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So they’ve sent you card, my Adonis, For the Countess’s ball of to-night; You fancy no fate like your own is, No future so charmingly bright. It costs half-a-crown for a Hansom To go to that beautiful ball, Though shortly … Continue reading

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Magenta

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I.    UNDER the willows; in the trampled maize; Midst up-torn vines, and shatter’d mulberry rows; In rice-fields, corn-fields, dykes by dusty ways, And cottage-crofts, where the gold gourd-flower blows,— Swathes of Death’s scythe, wielded for two long days— The dead … Continue reading

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The Song of COURTESY

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I.                                                                               … Continue reading

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THE FIRST PLAY-HOUSE.

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We must go back two hundred and eighty odd years. It is not easy to understand what London was then; but we must endeavour to get a rough notion of it into our heads, in order to be able to … Continue reading

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A Piece or Red Calico.

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MR. EDITOR: If the following true experience shall prove of any advantage to any of your readers, I shall be glad. I was going into town the other morning, when my wife handed me a little piece of red calico, … Continue reading

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OUR FIRE-SCREEN

IT was a fire-screen — that is, it was a frame for one,—and it was made of ash. My wife had worked a very pretty square of silk, with flowers and other colored objects upon it; and when it was … Continue reading

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HOME or HOSPITAL.

Among the whole range of human enterprises, there is scarcely perhaps a pleasanter one for ordinary people than building a house. Building a house to live in, or to put some friend into, I mean; for there is nothing particularly … Continue reading

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HANDS and MACHINES.

AN EPISODE IN PROGRESS. To be an Englishman in the full sense of the term is a thing to be proud of. To have grown on the same soil that has produced an Alfred, a Shakspeare [sic], Milton, Hampden, Sydney, … Continue reading

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The Spectral Mortgage

TOWARD the close of a beautiful afternoon in early summer I stood on the piazza of the spacious country-house which was my home. I had just dined, and I gazed with a peculiar comfort and delight upon the wide-spreading lawn … Continue reading

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The Transferred Ghost

THE country residence of Mr. John Hinckman was a delightful place to me, for many reasons. It was the abode of a genial, though somewhat impulsive, hospitality. It had broad, smooth-shaven lawns and towering oaks and elms; there were bosky … Continue reading

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Walter’s Choice

A LITTLE schoolboy, named Walter, once had a shilling given to him—a whole shilling to spend, or give away, or, in fact, do just what he liked with. Now many of the little boys at his school had plants in … Continue reading

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