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on which for an hour we shall all become poets familiar yet inscrutable mystery, to our senses and poetesses. Who said that Windermere and our souls express sanctity and purity of was too narrow? The same critic who thinks the immortal essence enshrined within, by aid the full harvest moon too round—and despises of all associated perceptions and emotions the twinkling of the evening star. It is all the that the heart and the imagination can aggloway down--from head to foot--from the Bra- merate round them, as instantly and as unhesi. thay to the Leven--of the proper breadth pre- tatingly as the faculties of thought and feeling cisely—to a quarter of an inch. Were the can agglomerate round a lily or a rose, for reeds in Poolwyke Bay—on which the birds example, the perceptions and emotions that love to balance themselves—at low or high make them—by divine right of inalienable water, to be visible longer or shorter than beauty—the Royal Families of Flowers. This what they have always been in the habit of definition-or description rather-of human being on such occasions since first we brushed female beauty, may appear to some, as indeed them with an oar, when landing in our skiff it appears to us--something vague; but all from the Endeavour, the beauty of the whole profound truths-out of the exact sciences, of Windermere would be impaired-so exqui- are something vague; and it is manifestly the sitely adapted is that pellucid gleam to the design of a benign and gracious Providence, lips of its silvan shores. True, there are flaws that they should be so till the end of time-till in the diamond-but only when the squalls mortality puts on immortality-and earth is come; and as the blackness sweeps by, that heaven. Vagueness, therefore, is no fault in diamond of the first water is again sky-bright philosophy-any more than in the dawn of and sky-blue as an angel's eyes. Lowood Bay morning, or the gloaming of eve. Enough, if ---We are now embarked in Mr. Jackson's pret- each clause of the sentence tha. seeks to eluci. tiest pinnace--when the sun is westering-date a confessed mystery, has a meaning harwhich it now is-surpasses all other bays in monious with all the meanings in all the other fresh-water mediterraneans. Eve loves to clauses and that the effect of the whole taken see her pensive face reflected in that serenest together is musical--and a tune. Then it is mirror. To flatter such a divinity is impossi- Truth. For all Falsehood is dissonant-and ble-but sure she never wears a smile so di- verity is concent. It is our faith, that the souls vine as when adjusting her dusky tresses in of some women are angelic-or nearly sothat truest of all glasses, set in the richest of by nature and the Christian religion; and that all frames. Pleased she retires--with a wa- the faces and persons of some women are anvering motion-and casting “many a longing, gelic or nearly so—whose souls, nevertheless, lingering look behind,” fades indistinctly away are seen to be far otherwisemand, on that discoamong the Brathay woods; while Night, her very, beauty fades or dies. But may not soul eldest sister, or rather her younger-we really and body-spirit and matter-meet in perfect know not which—takes her place at the dark- union at birth; and grow together into a creaening mirror, till it glitters with her crescent- ture, though of spiritual mould, comparable moon-coronet, wreathed perhaps with a white with Eve before the Fall? Such a creaturecloud, and just over the silver bow the lustre such creatures—may have been; but the quesof one large yellow star.

tion is-did you ever see one ? We almost As none of the party complain of hunger, think that we have—but many long years ago ; let us crack among us a single bottle of our

“ She is dedde, worthy host's choice old Madeira-and then haste in the barouche (ha! here it is) to Bow

It is right now to laugh-and sing-and And it may be that her image in the moonlight recite poetry--and talk all manner of nonsense. of memory and i.nagination, may be more perDidn't

ye hear something crack? Can it be a fectly beautiful than she herself ever was, spring—or merely the axeltree? Our clerical | when friend from Chester assures us 'twas but a string “Upgrew that living flower beneath our eye.of his guitar---no more shrieking—and after Yes-'tis thus that we form to ourselves-incoffee we shall have

communicably within our souls--what we “Rise up, rise up, Xarifa, lay your golden cushion down!" choose to call Ideal Beauty--that is, a life-inAnd then we two, my dear sir, must have a death image or Eidolon of a Being whose voice contest at chess—at which, if you beat us, we was once heard, and whose footsteps once shall leave our bed at midnight, and murder wandered among the flowers of this earth. But you in your sleep. “But where,” murmurs it is a mistake to believe that such beauty as Matilda, " are we going?” To Oresthead, love this can visit the soul only after the original --and Elleray-for you must see a sight these in which it once breathed is no more. For sweet eyes of thine never saw before--a as it can only be seen by profoundest passion

--and the profoundest are the passions of Love, We have often wondered if there be in the and Pity, and Grief-then why may not each world one woman indisputably and undeniably and all of these passions when we consider the most beautiful of all women-or if, indeed, the constitution of this world and this life-_be our first mother were “the loveliest of her awakened in their utmost height and depth by daughters, Eve.” What human female beauty the sight of living beauty, as well as by the is, all men feel-but few men know-and none memory of the dead? To do so is surely can tell--further than that it is perfect spiritual within the reachings of our souls,"--and if health, breathingly imbodied in perfect corpore- so, then may the virgin beauty of his daughter, al flesh and blood, according to certain heaven- praying with folded hands and heavenward framed adaptions of form and hue, yet by a face when leaning in health on her father's

Gone to her death-bedde
All under the willow tree.'



knees, transcend even the ideal beauty which the western sky, keeps fading away as it fades, shall afterwards visit his slumbers nightly, till at last all the ineffable splendour expires, long years after he has laid her head in the and the spirit that has been lost to this world in grave. If þy ideal beauty, you mean a beauty the transcendent vision, or has been seeing all beyond whatever breathed, and moved, and things appertaining to this world in visionary had its being on earth-then we suspect that symbols, returns from that celestial sojourn, not even “ that inner eye which is the bliss of and knows that its lot is, henceforth as heretosolitude” ever beheld it; but if you merely fore, to walk weariedly perhaps, and wo-begone, mean by ideal beauty, that which is composed over the no longer divine but disenchanted of ideas, and of the feelings attached by nature earth! to ideas, then, begging your pardon, my good It is very kind in the moon and stars-just sir, all beauty whatever is ideal and you had like them to rise so soon after sunset. The better begin to study metaphysics.

heart sinks at the sight of the sky, when a chaBut what we were wishing to say is this-racterless night succeeds such a blaze of light that whatever may be the truth with regard to -like dull reality dashing the last vestiges of human female beauty-Windermere, seen by the brightest of dreams. When the moon is sunset from the spot where we now stand, hid in her vacant interlunar cave," and not a Elleray, is at this moment the most beautiful star can “ burst its cerements,” imagination in scene on this earth. The reasons why it must the dim blank droops her wings-our thoughts be so are multitudinous. Not only can the eye become of the earth earthly-and poetry seems take in, but the imagination, in its awakened a pastime fit but for fools and children. But power, can master all the component elements how different our mood, when of the spectacle-and while it adequately dis- “Glows the firmament with living sapphires,” cerns and sufficiently feels the influence of and Diana, who has ascended high in heaven, each, is alive throughout all its essence to the without our having once observed the divinity, divine agency of the whole. The charm lies bends her silver bow among the rejoicing stars, in its entirety-its unity, which is so perfect, while the lake, like another sky, seems to conso seemeth it to our eyes—that 'tis in itself a tain its own luminaries, a different division of complete world--of which not a line could be the constellated night! 'Tis merry Winderaltered without disturbing the spirit of beauty mere no more. Yet we must not call her methat lies recumbent there, wherever the earth lancholy—though somewhat sad she seems, meets the sky. There is nothing here frag- and pensive, as if the stillness of universal namentary; and had a poet been born, and bred ture did touch her heart. How serene all the here all his days, nor known aught of fair or lights—how peaceful all the shadows! Steadgrand beyond this liquid vale, yet had he sung fast alike—as if they would brood for evertruly and profoundly of the shows of nature. yet transient as all loveliness--and at the No rude and shapeless masses of mountains mercy of every cloud. In some places the -such as too often in our own dear Scotland lake has disappeared-in others, the moonlight encumber the earth with dreary desolation is almost like sunshine-only silver instead of with gloom without grandeur-and magnitude gold. Here spots of quiet light--there lines of without magnificence. But almost in orderly trembling lustre—and there a flood of radiance array, and irregular just up to the point of the chequered by the images of trees. Lo! the picturesque, where poetry is not needed for the Isle called Beautiful has now gathered upon fancy's pleasure, stand the Race of Giants- its central grove all the radiance issuing from mist-veiled transparently or crowned with that celestial Urn; and almost in another moclouds slowly settling of their own accord into ment it seems blended with the dim mass of all the forms that Beauty loves, when with her mainland, and blackness enshrouds the woods. sister-spirit Peace she descends at eve from Still as seems the night to unobservant eyes, it highest heaven to sleep among the shades of is fluctuating in its expression as the face of a earth.

sleeper overspread with pleasant but disturbSweet would be the hush of lake, woods, and ing dreams. Never for any two successive skies, were it not so solemn! The silence is moments is the aspect of the night the same,that of a temple, and, as we face the west, irre- each smile has its own meaning, its own chasistibly are we led to adore. The mighty sun racter; and Light is felt to be like Music, to occupies with his flaming retinue all the re-have a melody and a harmony of its own-so gion. Mighty yet mild--for from his disc, mysteriously allied are the powers and proawhile insufferably bright, is effused now a vinces of eye and ear, and by such a kindred gentle crimson light, that dyes all the west in and congenial agency do they administer to one uniform glory, save where yet round the the workings of the spirit. cloud edges lingers the purple, the green, and Well, that is very extraordinary-Rainthe yellow lustre, unwilling to forsake the rain-rain ! All the eyes of heaven were violet beds of the sky, changing, while we bright as bright might be—the sky was blue gaze, into heavenly roses; till that prevailing as violets—that braided whiteness, that here crimson colour at last gains entire possession and there floated like a veil on the brow of of the heavens, and all the previous splendour night, was all that recalled the memory of gives way to one whose paramount purity, lus- clouds--and as for the moon, no faintest halo trous as fire, is in its steadfast beauty sublime.yellowed round her orb, that seemed indeed And, lo! the lake has received that sunset into - one perfect chrysolite;"-yet while all the its bosom. It, too, softly burns with a crimson winds seemed laid asleep till morn, and beauty glow-and, as sinks the sun below the moun- to have chained all the elements into peaceains Windermere, gorgeous in her array asovercast in a moment is the firmament-an evanishing has left it blank as mist—there is shows the long lake-shore all tumbling with a fast, thick, pattering on the woods-yes-foamy breakers. A strong wind is there-but rain-rain-rain-and ere we reach Bowness, here there is not a breath. But the woods the party will be wet through to their skins. across the lake are bowing their heads to the Nay-matters are getting still more seriousblast. Windermere is in a tumult--the storm for there was lightning--yea, lightning! Ten comes flying on wings all abroad--and now we seconds! and hark, very respectable thunder! are in the very heart of the hurricane. See, in With all our wisdom, we have not been wea- Bowness is hurrying many a light-for the ther-wise-or we should have known, when people fear we may be on the lake; and faithwe saw it, an electrical sunset. Only look ful Billy, depend on't, is launching his life-boat now towards the West. There floats Noah's to go to our assistance. Well, this is an adArk-a magnificent spectacle; and now for venture. But soft-what ails our Argand the Flood. That far-off sullen sound proclaims Lamp! Our Study is in such darkness that cataracts. And what may mean that sighing we cannot see our paper-in the midst of a and moaning and muttering up among the thunder-storm we conclude, and to bed by a cliffs? See-see how the sheet lightning flaff of lightning.


tesque and fantastic ash, with a crooked back, PROLOGUE.

and arms disproportionately long, like a giant ONCE we knew the Highlands absolutely too in extreme old age dwindling into a dwarf, to well-not a nook that was not as familiar to us jut out from the hole in the wall, and should as our brown study. We had not to complain your leaden eye chance at the time to love the of the lochs, glens, woods, and mountains ground, to put his mossy fist right in your phialone, for having so fastened themselves upon losophical countenance! In short, it is very us on a great scale that we found it impossible possible to know a country so thoroughly well, to shake them off; but the hardship in our outside and in, from mountain to molehill, that case was, that all the subordinate parts of the you get mutually tired of one another's comscenery, many of them dull and dreary enough, pany, and are ready to vent your quarrel in reand some of them intolerably tedious, had ciprocal imprecations. taken it upon themselves so to thrust their in- So was it once with us and the Highlands. timacy upon us, in all winds and weathers, that "That “too much familiarity breeds contempt” without giving them the cut direct there was we learned many a long year ago, when learnno way of escaping from the burden of their ing to write large text; and passages in our friendship. To courteous and humane Chris- life have been a running commentary on the tians, such as we have always been both by theme then set us by that incomparable caliname and nature as far back as we can recol- graphist, Butterworth. All “the old familiar lect, it is painful to cut even an impudent faces” occasionally come in for a portion of stone, or an upsetting tree that may cross our that feeling; and on that account, we are glad path uncalled for, or obtrude itself on our that we saw, but for one day and one night, privacy when we wish to be alone in our me- Charles Lamb's. Therefore, some dozen years ditations. Yet, we confess, they used some ago we gave up the Highlands, not wishing to times sorely to try our temper. It is all very quarrel with them, and confined our tender aswell for you, our good sir, to say in excuse for siduities to the Lowlands, while, like two great them that such objects are inanimate. So Flats as we were, we kept staring away at each much the worse. Were they animate, like other, with our lives on the same level. All yourself, they might be reasoned with on the the consequences that might naturally have impropriety of interrupting the stream of any been expected have ensued; and we are now man's soliloquies. But being not merely in- as heartily sick of the Lowlands, and they of animate but irrational, objects of that class us. What can we do but return to our First know not to keep their own place, which in- Love? deed, it may be said in reply, is kept for them Allow us to offer another view of the subby nature. But that Mistress of the Ceremo-ject. There is not about Old Age one blessing nies, though enjoying a fine green old age, more deserving gratitude to Heaven, than the cannot be expected to be equally attentive to gradual bedimming of memory brought on ir the proceedings of all the objects under her years. In youth, all things, internal and extercontrol. Accordingly, often when she is not nal, are unforgetable, and by the perpetnal looking, what more common than for a huge presence of passion oppress the soul. The hulking fellow of a rock, with an absurd tuft eye of a woman haunts the victim on whom of trees on his head, who has observed you it may have given a glance, till he leaps per lying half-asleep on the greensward, to hang haps out of a four-story window. A heautiful eavesdropping, as it were, over your most lake, or a sublime mountain, drives a young secret thoughts, which he whispers to the winds, poet as mad as a March hare. He loses him and they to all the clouds! Or for some gro- self in an interminable forest louring all roun.'

the horizon of a garret six feet square. It happy that our dim memory and our dim imamatters 'not to him whether his eyes be open gination restore and revive in our mind none or shut. He is at the mercy of all Life and all but the characteristic features of the scenery Nature, and not for one hour can he escape of the Highlands, unmixed with baser matter, from their persecutions. His soul is the slave and all floating magnificently through a spiritof the Seven Senses, and each is a tyrant with ual haze, so that the whole region is now more instruments of torture, to whom and to which than ever idealized; and in spite of all his Phalaris, with his brazen bull, was a pointless present, past, and future prosiness-Christojoke. But in old age " the heart of a man is pher North, soon as in thought his feet touch oppressed with care” no longer; the Seven the heather, becomes a poet. Tyrants have lost their sceptres, and are de- It has long been well known to the whole throned; and the grayheaded gentleman feels world that we are a sad egotist-yet our egothat his soul has “ set up its rest.” His eyes tism, so far from being a detraction from our are dazzled no more with insufferable light attraction, seems to be the very soul of it, no more his ears tingle with music too exqui- making it impossible in nature for any reasonsite to be borne—no more his touch is trans- able being to come within its sphere, without port. The scents of nature, stealing from the being drawn by sweet compulsion to the old balmy mouths of lilies and roses, are deadened wizard's heart. He is so humane! Only look in his nostrils. He is above and beyond the at him for a few minutes, and liking becomes reach of all the long arms of many-handed love-love becomes veneration. And all this misery, as he is out of the convulsive clutch even before he has opened his lips-by the of bliss. And is not this the state of best hap- mere power of his ogles and his temples. In piness for mortal man? Tranquillity! The his large mild blue eyes is written not only his peaceful air that we breathe as we are wester- nature, but miraculously, in German text, his ing towards the sunset-regions of our Being, very name, Christopher North. Mrs. Gentle and feel that we are about to drop down for was the first to discover it; though we rememever out of sight behind the Sacred Mountains. ber having been asked more than once in our

All this may be very fine, but cannot be said youth, by an alarmed virgin on whom we to help us far on with our Prologue. Let us happened at the time to be looking tender, “ If try it again. Old men, we remarked, ought to we were aware that there was something prebe thankful to Heaven for their dim memories. ternatural in our eyes ?" Christopher is conNever do we feel that more profoundly than spicuous in our right eye-North in our left, when dreaming about the Highlands. All is and when we wish to be incog., we either draw confusion. Nothing distinctly do we remember their fringed curtains, or, nunlike, keep the -not even the names of lochs and mountains. tell-tale orbs fixed on the ground. Candour Where is Ben Cru-Cru-Cru-what's-his- whispers us to confess, that some years ago a name? Ay-ay--Cruachan. At this blessed child was exhibited at six-pence with WILLIAM moment we see his cloud-capped head—but we Wood legible in its optics-having been affilihave clean forgotten the silver sound of the ated, by ocular evidence, on a gentleman of name of the country he encumbers. Ross- that name, who, with his dying breath, disshire? Nay, that won't do-he never was at owned the soft impeachment. But in that 'Tair. We are assured by Dr. Reid's, Dr. Beat-case nature had written a vile scrawl-in ours tie's, and Dugald Stewart's great Instinctive her hand is firm, and goes off with a flourish. First Principle Belief, that oftener than once, Have you ever entered, all alone, the shadows or ten times either, have we been in a day-long of some dilapidated old burial-place, and in a hollow among precipices dear to eagles, called nook made beautiful by wild-briers and a flowGlen-Etive. But where begins or where ends ering thorn, beheld the stone image of some that “severe sojourn,” is now to us a mystery long-forgotten worthy lying on his grave?

-though we hear the sound of the sea and Some knight who perhaps had fought in Pathe dashing of cataracts. Yet though all is lestine-or some holy man, who in the Abbeythus din in our memory, would you believe it now almost gone had led a long still life of that nothing is utterly lost? No, not even the prayer? The moment you knew that you thoughts that soared like eagles vanishing in were standing among the dwellings of the dead, the light-or that dived like ravens into the how impressive became the ruins! Did not that gloom. They all re-appear-those from the stone image wax more and more lifelike in its Empyrean—these from Hades--reminding us repose ? And as you kept your eyes fixed on of the good or the evil borne in other days, the features Time had not had the heart to within the spiritual regions of our boundless obliterate, seemed not your soul to hear the being. The world of eye and ear is not in echoes of the Miserere sung by the brethren? reality narrowed because it glimmers; ever So looks Christopher-on his couch-in his and anon as years advance, a light direct from ALCOVE. He is taking his siesta—and the faint heaven dissipates the gloom, and bright and shadows you see coming and going across his glorious as of yore the landscape laughs to face are dreams. 'Tis a pensive dormitory, the sea, the sea to heaven, and heaven back and hangs undisturbed in its spiritual region again to the gazing spirit that leaps forward as a cloud on the sky of the Longest Day when to the hailing light with something of the same it falls on the Sabbath. divine passion that gave wings to our youth. What think you of OUR FATHER, alongside

All this may be still finer, yet cannot be said, of the Pedlar in the Excursion? Wordsworth any more than the preceding paragraph, much says10 help us on with our Prologue. To come

Amid the gloom, then, if possible, to the point at once-We are Spread by a brotherhood of lofty elm


Appear'd a roofless hut; four naked walls

borately painted by the hand of a great master That stared upon each other! I look'd round, And to my wish and to my hope espied

in the aforesaid Poem.
Him whom I sought; a man of reverend age,

Him had I mark'd the day before--alone,
But stout and hale, for travel unimpair’d.

And station'd in the public way, with face
There was he seen upon the cottage bench,
Recumbent in the shade, as if asleep;

Turn'd to the sun then setting, while that staff

Afforded to the figure of the man,
An iron-pointed staff lay at his side.

Detained for contemplation or repose, Alas! “ stout and hale" are words that could Graceful support,” &c. not be applied, without cruel mocking, to our As if it were yesterday, we remember our figure. “Recumbent in the shade” unques- first interview with the Bard. It was at the tionably he is-yet “recumbent” is a clumsy Lady's Oak, between Ambleside and Rydal. word for such quietude; and, recurring to our We were then in the very flower of our ageformer image, we prefer to say, in the words just sixty; so we need not say the century had of Wilson

then seen but little of this world. The Bard “Still is he as a frame of stone

was a mere boy of some six lustres, and had a That in its stillness lies alone,

lyrical ballad look that established his identity With silence breathing from its face,

at first sight, all unlike the lack-a-daisical. His For ever in some holy place, Chapel or aisle--on marble laid,

right hand was within his vest on the region With pale hands on his pale breast spread, of the heart, and he ceased his crooning as we An image humble, meek, and low,

stood face to face. What a noble countenance! Of one forgotten long ago!" No “iron-pointed staff lies at his side”—but nign-of a man conscious of his greatness

at once austere and gracious--haughty and be« Satan's dread,” THE Cruncu! Wordsworth while yet companioning with the humble-an tells us over again that the Pedlar

unrecognised power dwelling in the woods. “With no appendage but a staff,

Our figure at that moment so impressed itself The prized memorial of relinquish'd toils,

on his imagination, that it in time supplanted Upon the cottage-bench reposed his limbs, Screen'd from the sun."

the image of the real Pedlar, and grew into the On his couch, in his Alcove, Christopher is Emeritus of the Three Days. We were standing reposing-his limbs alone-but his

in that very attitude-having deposited on the The Crutcu is, indeed, both de jure coping of the wall our Kit, since adopted by and de facto the prized memorial of toils--but, the British Army, with us at once a library and

a larder. thank Heaven, not relinquished toils; and then how characteristic of the dear merciless old

And again-and even more characteristi

cally, man-hardly distinguishable among the fringed draperies of his canopy, the dependent and in

“Plain was his garb:

Such as might suit a rustic sire, prepared dependent Krout.

For Sabbath duties; yet he was a man Was the Pedlar absolutely asleep?

We Whom no one could have pass'd without remark.

Active and nervous was his gait; his limbs shrewdly suspect not-twas but a doze. “Re

And his whole figure breathed intelligence. cumbent in the shade, as if asleep"-"Upon that Time had compress'd the freshness of his cheeks cottage-bench reposed his limbs”-induce us to Into a narrower circle of deep red,

But had not tamed his eye, that under brows, lean to the opinion that he was but on the bor

Shaggy and grey, had meanings, which it brought der of the Land of Nod. Nay, the poet gets From years of youth; whilst, like a being made more explicit, and with that minute particu

Of many beings, he had wondrous skill

To blend with knowledge of the years to come, larity so charming in poetical description, Human, or such as lie beyond the grave.finally informs us that

In our intellectual characters we indulge “Supine the wanderer lay,

the pleasing hope that there are some striking His eyes, as if in drowsiness, half shut, The shadows of the breezy elms above

points of resemblance, on which, however, our Dappling his face."

modesty will not permit us to dwell--and in It would appear, then, on an impartial con- our acquirements, more particularly in Plane sideration of all the circumstances of the case,

and Spherical Trigonometry.

, that the “man of reverend age,” though “re- “While yet he linger'd in the rudiments cumbent” and “supine” upon the “cottage

Of science, and among her simplest laws,

His triangles--they were the stars of heaven. bench,” “as if asleep,” and “his eyes, as if in The silent stars! oft did he take delight drowsiness, half shut," was in a mood between To measure the altitude of some tall crag, sleeping and waking; and this creed is corro

That is the eagle's birthplace,” &c. borated by the following assertion

So it was with us. Give us but a base and a "He had not heard the sound

quadrant-and when a student in Jemmy MilOf my approaching steps, and in the shade lar's class, we could have given you the altiUnnoticed did I stand some minutes' space. At length I lail'd him, seeing that his hat

tude of any steeple in Glasgow or the Gorbals. Was moist with water-drops, as if the brim

Occasionally, too, in a small party of friends, Had newly scoop'd a running stream."

though not proud of the accomplishment, we He rose; and so do We, for probably by this have been prevailed on, as you may have time you may have discovered that we have heard, to delight humanity with a song—“The been describing Ourselves in our siesta or mid-Flowers of the Forest,” “Roy's Wife," "Flee day snooze-as we have been beholding in up, flee up, thou bonnie bonnie Cock," or our mind's eye our venerated and mysterious “Auld Langsyne"-just as the Pedlar Double.

“At request would sing We cannot help flattering ourselves--if in- Old songs, the product of his native hills

A skilful distribution of sweet sounds, deed it be flattery--that though no relative of

Feeding the soul, and eagerly imbibed his, we have a look of the Pedlar--as he is ela- As cool refreshing water, by the care

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