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by Various
CHAPTER X.—(Continued.) The Pond at Bumsteadville is sufficiently near the turnpike to be readily reached from the latter, and, if mentioned in the advertisement of a summer boarding-house, would be called Lake Duckingham, on account of the fashionable ducks resorting thither for bathing and flirtation in the season. When July's sun turns its tranquil mirror to hues of amber and gold, the slender mosquito sings Hum, sweet Hum, along its... more...

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MYSELF, PUNCH, AND THE KEELEYS. I dined with my old friend and schoolfellow, Jack Withers, one day last September. On the previous morning, on my way to the India House, I had run up against a stout individual on Cornhill, and on looking in his face as I stopped for a moment to apologise, an abrupt “This is surely Jack Withers,” burst from my lips, followed by—“God bless me! Will Bayfield!” from his. After a hurried... more...

My Lord, After having long celebrated the superior graces and excellences among men, in an imaginary character, I do myself the honour to show my veneration for transcendent merit, under my own name, in this address to your lordship. The just application of those high accomplishments of which you are master, has been an advantage to all your fellow subjects; and it is from the common obligation you have laid upon all the world, that I, though a... more...

Introduction When the first number of the Tatler appeared in 1709, Steele and Addison were about thirty-seven years of age, while Swift, then still counted among the Whigs, was more than four years their senior. Addison and Steele had been friends at the Charterhouse School and at Oxford, and though they had during the following years had varying experiences, their friendship had in no way lessened. Addison had been a fellow of his college,... more...

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MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. By MOSE SKINNER, CHAPTER SIXTH. ANN'S RECEPTION. The next morning, as ANN was eating breakfast, who should drive up in a covered wagon but the Hon. MICHAEL. "Just as I expected," said she. "They've found out where I am, and they'll come out here and try to pump me about it. But I don't envy 'em their job. Come in," she added, in answer to the Hon. MICHAEL'S somewhat timid knock. "How'd'do, ANN," said he.... more...


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MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. By MOSE SKINNER. CHAPTER FIFTH. QUEER DOINGS AT THE HALF-WAY HOUSE. "Tell the minister," said ANN to TEDDY, "to come in. If I don't get a husband out of this somehow, I ain't smart. I'll just marry the man I've got here." ARCHIBALD sank down on the sofa, bathed in a cold perspiration. "Oh, don't" he groaned; "you mustn't. 'Twasn't my fault; JEFF sent me." Her eyes flashed on him angrily. "Yes, you helped JEFF set... more...

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MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. By MOSE SKINNER. CHAPTER FOURTH. THE HALF-WAY HOUSE he first person to discover that ANN BRUMMET had left the house, was Mrs. LADLE, Now, ever since the Hon. MICHAEL had asked ANN to go to the circus, Mrs. LADLE had hated her. But when he took ANN to the Agricultural Fair, and bought her a tin-type album and a box of initial note-paper, Mrs. LADLE was simply raving. Whether she herself was viewing the Hon. MICHAEL... more...

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MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. By MOSE SKINNER. CHAPTER SECOND. LOVE. The Hon. MICHAEL LADLE and ARCHIBALD BLINKSOP were interrupted in their conversation by BELINDA, who sent off the former under pretence that the croquet players were waiting for him, or, as she expressed it, it was "his turn to mallet." As soon as he was fairly out of sight, she turned to ARCHIBALD, and said; "Come with me." "What for?" said ARCHIBALD, as she seized him by... more...

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MAN AND WIVES. A TRAVESTY. BY MOSE SKINNER. CHAPTER FIRST. CROQUET. croquet party has assembled in Mrs. TIMOTHY LADLE'S front yard, located in one of the most romantic spots in that sylvan retreat, the State of Indiana. "Who's going to play," did you say? Come with me, and I'll introduce you. This austere female, with such inflexible rigidity of form, such harrowing cork-screw curls, and chronic expression as of smelling something... more...

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BRILLIANCY OF THE "SUN." The Moon, as is generally known, shines with a borrowed light, while the Sun is popularly supposed to manufacture its own gas and to arrange its pyrotechnics on the premises. Our N.Y. Sun, however, does not always manufacture its own beams. By far the most brilliant of the "sunbeams," for instance, published in that journal of November 1st, is the quaint and charming little poem there headed "Sally Salter," and written... more...