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you will be apt to fancy that the loftier merits of the picture were of your own dreaming, not of his creating." - Hawthorne.

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Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us, or we find it not. The best of beauty is a finer charm than skill in surfaces, in outlines, in rules of art can ever teach, namely, a radiation from the work of art of human character, a wonderful expression through stone, or canvas, or musical sound, of the deepest and simplest attributes of our nature, and therefore most intelligible at last to those souls which have these attributes." Emerson.

"No man knows the highest goodness who does not feel beauty. The beauty of holiness is its highest object. To act right because it is beautiful, and because noble, true, self-denying, pure acts commend themselves to a soul attuned to harmony, is the highest kind of goodness. To see the King in his beauty is the loftiest and most unearthly attainment. Can any one be keenly alive to this who has no heart for external beauty? Surely he who is callous to form and color, and unmoved by visible beauty, is not above, but below our nature; he may be good, but not in the highest idea of goodness. Robertson.

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"There is a natural affinity between goodness and the cultivation of the Beautiful, when it is real cultivation, and not a mere unguided instinct. He who has learned what beauty is, if he be of a virtuous character, will desire to realize it in his own life-will keep before him a type of perfect beauty in human character, to light his attempts at self-culture. There is a true meaning in the saying of Goethe, though liable to be misunderstood and perverted, that the Beautiful is greater than the Good; for it includes the Good, and adds something to it: it is the Good made perfect, and fitted with all the collateral perfections which make it a finished and completed thing. . . . Art, when really cultivated, and not merely practised empirically, maintains, what it first gave the conception of, an ideal Beauty, to be eternally aimed at, though surpassing what can be actually attained; and by this idea it trains us never to be completely satisfied with imperfection in what we ourselves do and are: to idealize, as much as possible, every work we do, and most of all, our own characters and lives." - John Stuart Mill.

The Wave, according to its forms, expresses, sorrow, admiration, surprise, interrogation, mirthful wonder, contempt, scorn, &c.

In semitonic melody it is used in the expression of sorrow, vexation, chagrin, contrition, impatience, pity, love, supplication, fatigue, pain, &c.

In the double form, the wave denotes mockery, petulance, contempt, sorrow, &c.

It is emphatically used on long quantities requiring these sentiments.


"Go to your darling people, then; for soon
If I mistake not, 't will be needful; try
Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them
Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause,
If I forbid them." WARWICK TO EDWARD.

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"But lo! the Earl is mercifully minded!
And surely if we, rather than revenge
The slaughter of our bravest, cry them shame,
And fall upon our knees, and say we've sinned,
Then will my lord the Earl have mercy on us,
And pardon us our letch for liberty!"


"A most wise question that!

Is she not his slave?

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Will his tongue lie for him-
Or his hand steal. or the finger of his hand
Beckon, or point, or shut, or open for him?
To ask him if she 'll swear! Will she walk or run,
Sing, dance, or wag her head; do anything
That is most easy, done? She'll as soon swear!
What mockery it is to have one's life

In jeopardy by such a bare-faced trick!
Is it to be endured? I do protest
Against her oath!"-VIRGINIUS.

"I weep for ADONAIS - he is dead!

Sheridan Knowles.

O, weep for Adonais! though our tears
Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head!
And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years
To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers,
And teach them thine own sorrow: say, 'With me

Died Adonais; till the Future dares

Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be

An echo and a light unto eternity!'

"Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay,

When thy son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies
In darkness? where was lorn Urania

When Adonais died? With veiléd eyes,

'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise

She sat, while one, with soft enamored breath,

Rekindled all the fading melodies,

With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death.".


"Weep no more, woful shepherds, weep no more;

For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,

Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor:

So sinks the day-star in the ocean-bed,

And yet anon repairs his drooping head,

And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:

So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,


Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves;
Where, other groves and other streams along,

With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song,
In the bless'd kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the saints above,
In solemn troops, and sweet societies,
That sing, and, singing, in their glory move,
And wipe the tears forever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more:
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore,
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood."

LYCIDAS. Milton.



Sydney Smith.

I have spoken so often on this subject, that I am sure both you and the gentlemen here present will be obliged to me for saying but little, and that favor I am as willing to confer as you can be to receive it. I feel most deeply the event which has taken place, because, by putting the two houses of parliament in collision with each other, it will impede the public business and diminish the public prosperity. I feel it as a churchman, because I cannot but blush to see so many dignitaries of the church arrayed against the wishes and happiness of the people. I feel it more than all, because I believe it will sow the seeds of deadly hatred between the aristocracy and the great mass of the people.

The loss of the bill I do not feel, and for the best of all possible reasons because I have not the slightest idea that it is lost. I have no more doubt before the expiration of the winter, that this bill will pass, than I have that the annual tax bills will pass, and greater certainty than this no man can have, for Franklin tells us there are but two things certain in this world—death and taxes.

As for the possibility of the house of lords preventing, ere long, a reform of parliament, I hold it to be the most absurd notion that ever entered into human imagination. I do not mean to be disrespectful, but the attempt of the lords to stop the progress of reform, reminds me very forcibly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on that occasion.

In the winter of 1824, there set in a great flood upon that town the tide rose to an incredible height - the waves rushed in upon the houses, and everything was threatened with destruction. In the midst of this sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door of her house, with mop and feathers, trundling her mop, squeezing out the sea water, and vigorously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington's spirit was up; but I need not tell you that the contest was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs. Partington. She was excellent at a slop, or a puddle, but she should not have meddled with a tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease- be quiet and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington,


Thomas Hood.

How hard, when those who do not wish to lend, thus lose, their


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Are snared by anglers, folks that fish with literary Hooks, Who call and take some favorite tome, but never read it through; They thus complete their set at home, by making one at you.

I, of my "Spenser" quite bereft, last winter sore was shaken;
Of "Lamb" I've but a quarter left, nor could I save my "Bacon;'
And then I saw my "Crabbe," at last, like Hamlet, backward go:
And, as the tide was ebbing fast, of course I lost my "Rowe."


"Mallet" served to knock me down, which makes me thus a talker;

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And once, when I was out of town, my "Johnson proved a


While studying, o'er the fire, one day, my "Hobbes," amidst the


They bore my "Colman" clean away, and carried off my "Coke."

They picked my "Locke," to me far more than Bramah's patent worth,


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And now my losses I deplore, without a "Home on earth.

If once a book you let them lift, another they conceal,

For though I caught them stealing "Swift," as swiftly went my "Steele."

"Hope" is not now upon my shelf, where late he stood elated; But what is strange, my "Pope" himself is excommunicated. My little " Suckling" in the grave is sunk to swell the ravage; And what was Crusoe's fate to save, 't was mine to lose,- -8 "Savage."

Even "Glover's" works I cannot put my frozen hands upon; Though ever since I lost my "Foote," my 'Bunyan" has been



My "Hoyle" with "Cotton" went oppressed; my "Taylor," too must fail;

To save my "Goldsmith" from arrest, in vain I offered "Bayle."

I "Prior" sought, but could not see the "Hood" so late in front; And when I turned to hunt for "Lee," O! where was my "Leigh Hunt"?

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