Eliza Cook's Journal, Volume 3

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Eliza Cook
John Owen Clarke, 1850

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Page 151 - If there be one thing on earth which is truly admirable, it is to see God's wisdom blessing an inferiority of natural powers, where they have been honestly, truly, and zealously cultivated.
Page 35 - There was Lamb himself, the most delightful, the most provoking, the most witty and sensible of men. He always made the best pun, and the best remark in the course of the evening. His serious conversation, like his serious writing, is his best. No one ever stammered out such fine, piquant, deep, eloquent things in half a dozen halfsentences as he does. His jests scald like tears: and he probes a question with a play upon words.
Page 354 - Her defence was (I have the trial in my pocket), ' that she had lived in credit, and wanted for nothing, till a press-gang came and stole her husband from her ; but since then, she had no bed to lie on ; nothing to give her children to eat ; and they were almost naked ; and perhaps she might have done...
Page 14 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; The flowers appear on the earth; the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Page 40 - But this was too near the truth to be admitted, and so we took our present grave motto from Publius Syrus, of whom none of us had, I am sure, ever read a single line; and so began what has since turned out to be a very important and able journal. When I left Edinburgh, it fell into the stronger hands of Lord Jeffrey and Lord Brougham, and reached the highest point of popularity and success.
Page 152 - Such are the objects of high church fanaticism, objects so pitiful that, if gained ever so completely, they would make no man the wiser or the better; they would lead to no good, intellectual, moral, or .spiritual...
Page 346 - Over its grave i' the earth so chilly; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. The air is damp, and hush'd, and close, As a sick man's room when he taketh repose An hour before death; My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves, And the breath Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily.
Page 151 - I am quite sure that it is a most solemn duty to cultivate our understandings to the uttermost, for I have seen the evil moral consequences of fanaticism to a greater degree than I ever expected to see them realized ; and I am satisfied that a neglected intellect is far oftener the cause of mischief to a man, than a perverted or overvalued one.
Page 79 - ... like the breath of Tartarus. Now delicate skins are beset with gnats ; and boys make their sleeping companion start up with playing a burning-glass on his hand ; and blacksmiths are super-carbonated ; and...
Page 167 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale ; And, now and then, sweet Philomel would wail, Or stockdoves plain amid the forest deep, That drowsy rustled to the sighing gale ; And still a coil the grasshopper did keep ; Yet all these sounds yblent inclined all to sleep.

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