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Historical Sketches of the Reign of George II. By Mrs. OLIPHANT. Price
$1.00. Contents: Queen Caroline; Sir Robert Walpole; Lord Chesterfield; Lady Mary Wortley Montagu; Alexander Pope; The Young Chevalier; John Wesley; Commo
dore Anson; Bishop Berkeley; Samuel Richardson; David Hume; William Hogarth. “These sketches of the lives of some of the inore distinguished personages of England, in every walk of life, during the last century, attractive enough when told in the simplest way, receive a new charm from the pen of one of the most brilliant writers of romance in the field of English literature. They are more interesting than a novel, for they tell us just what we wish to know about these noted people, in the most pleasing style.". Springfield (Mass.) Republican.
* The work is charmingly done; and we could solicit for no one a greater pleasure than that of reading it,a pleasure not lessened by the accompanying profit.” – Phila. No. American and U. S. Gazette.
“Every profession is represented; and the portraits are painted by one well versed in the art. It is a book of rare merit." - Turf, Field, and Farm, N. Y.
“Mrs. Oliphant's style is always charming; and it would be difficult to find pleasanter reading than her Sketches." - Saturday Review, London. John Stuart Mill's Inaugural Address, at the University of St. Andrews, on
on University Education. 25 cts.
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Portrait in My Uncle's Dining Room, from the French; and other Tales.
I vol. 38 cts. Clemence D'Orville; or, From the Palace to the Steppe. A Novel of
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No. 1532. - October 18, 1873.
S From Beginning,
131 153 166 173
CONTENTS. I. THE STATE OF ENGLISH POETRY,
Spectator, VII. PROGRESS OF INDIA,
Saturday Review, VIII. A PIECE OF SPONGE,
Once a Week,
POETRY. “This ENLIGHTENED AGE,”
• 130 | HYMN,
182 186 189 191
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ANTTELL & GAY
“THIS ENLIGHTENED AGE.”
And soldiers - heroes? Do we shame them
much? A MEDITATION IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM.
Have men more courage than in days of I say it to myself - in meekest awe
yore? Of progress, electricity, and steam, Are they more jealous for their manhood Of this almighty age — this liberal age That has no time to breathe, or think, or Do they respect and honour women more? dream;
Are they more noble an those good old I ask it of myself, with bated breath,
knights, Casting a furtive glance about the hall Who scorned to strike a foe, save in the Our fathers, were their times so very dark?
face Were they benighted heathens after all ? Who reckoned gold as dross to gallant deeds,
And counted death far happier than disHad they not their Galileo — Newton too —
grace? And men as great, though not a Stephenson ? Is life more grand with us, who bask at ease, Had they not passable scholars in fair Greece, Who traced the paths we deign to walk Than 'twas to the stout hearts that wore the
And count that only excellent which pars, upon ?
In those dark, turbulent, fearless, fighting Had they not poets in those dismal days Homer and Shakespeare, and a few between?
days? Had they not rulers in their barbarous states, Who scattered laws for our wise hands to o nineteenth century! God has given you glean?
The morning has been spreading – that is Had they not painters, who knew how to
O liberal age ! stoop your conceited head, Raphael, to take an instance — well as we, And gather up the crumbs that they let fall. With near four hundred years of light the less ? Good Words.
ADA CAMBRIDGE. Is Phidias matched in our great century ? And architects ? Sure Egypt and old Rome, And ruined Athens, tell of fair reputes !
HYMN. The Pyramids, and temples of the Greeks, May vie with our town-halls and institutes. TAKE the praise we bring Thee, Lord,
Something more than what we speak, Their marble Venice, with her dappled tints, For the love within us feels Their grey old minsters, strong as chiselled Words uncertain, cold, and weak. rocks,
Thoughts that rise and tears that fall, Their Tyrolean castles, lifted high,
Praise Thee better: Take them all! May outlast all our brick-and-mortar blocks.
Looking back the way we've come, And were there not refinements in those days, What a sight, O Lord, we see ! And elegant luxuries of domestic life?
All the failure in ourselves, I read the answer in the precious things
All the love and strength in Thee.
Would that we had trusted more!
We will shun no future storm,
Sure Thy voice is in its wind;
We'll confront each coming cloud,
Sure the sun is bright behind :
Only wilt Thou teach us how !
Use us for Thy glory, Lord,
In the way that seemeth right, When haughty souls rejoiced to bear her Whether but to wait and watch, yoke
Or to gird our limbs and fight. When all those grand monastic piles were Marching on, or standing still, reared ?
Each is best, when 'tis Thy will. And were there not some preachers - Chrys When at last the end shall come, ostoms,
What, O Lord, is Death but this, Whose golden words still linger, like a Door of our dear Father's home, chime
Entrance into perfect bliss, Of falling echoes in lone Alpine glens,
Peril past, and labour done, Amongst the sonorous voices of our time? Sorrow over, peace begun!