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Ada Cavendish affectionate Aldrich American Artemus artist Bailey Bayard Taylor beauty Bohemian Boston brilliant character Charles Dickens charm Clapp comic comrade criticism Curtis dead DEAR WINTER death Edwin Booth England expressed exquisite eyes fancy feeling Fitz-James O'Brien genius gentle GEORGE WILLIAM CURTIS grace heard heart Henry Henry Clapp Holmes honor human humor humorist kind kindly knew letters literary literature lived Longfellow memory ment mind Mitchell morning nature never night noble novel O'Brien once persons Philip James Bailey playful pleasure poem poet poetic poetry possessed published reader remember rose Rufus Choate satire Saturday Press seemed Shakespeare song soul speak spirit spoke Stedman Stoddard story Street sweet T. B. ALDRICH tender things Thomas Bailey Aldrich thought tion touched tribute verse voice Wilkie Collins William words write written wrote York youth
Page 200 - He answered nothing. But he led me to the shore. And on that part of it where she and I had looked for shells, two children — on that part of it where some lighter fragments of the old boat, blown down last night, had been scattered by the wind — among the ruins of the home he had wronged — I saw him lying with his head upon his arm, as I had often seen him lie at school.
Page 226 - There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.
Page 351 - ... a native clearness and shortness, a domestical plainness, and a peculiar kind of familiarity ; which can only affect the humour of those to whom they were intended. The...
Page 252 - Here lies our good Edmund, whose genius was such, We scarcely can praise it, or blame it too much; Who, born for the universe, narrowed his mind, And to party gave up what was meant for mankind.
Page 150 - A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet, It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet...
Page 249 - Unconsciously and surely the ear and heart were charmed. How was it done ? Ah ! how did Mozart do it ? how Raphael ? The secret of the rose's sweetness, of the bird's ecstasy, of the sunset's glory — that is the secret of genius and of eloquence.
Page 28 - I am drawing near to the close of my career ; I am fast shuffling off the stage. I have been perhaps the most voluminous author of the day ; and it is a comfort to me to think that I have tried to unsettle no man's faith, to corrupt no man's principle, and that I have written nothing which on my deathbed I should wish blotted.
Page 35 - Ah shameless ! for he did but sing A song that pleased us from its worth ; No public life was his on earth, No blazon'd statesman he, nor king. He gave the people of his best : His worst he kept, his best he gave.