ADVERTISEMENT. My Booksellers inform’d me, lately, that several inquiries had been made for My Night-Gown and Slippers,—but that every copy had been sold;—they had been out of print these two years.—“Then publish them again,” said I, boldly,—(I print at my own risk)—and with an air of triumph. Messrs. Cadell and Davies advise’d me to make additions.—“The Work is, really, too... more...

Justinian at Windermere We took a hundredweight of booksTo Windermere between us,Our dons had blessed our studious looks,Had they by chance but seen us. Maine, Blackstone, Sandars, all were there,And Hallam's Middle Ages,And Austin with his style so rare,And Poste's enticing pages. We started well: the little innWas deadly dull and quiet,As dull as Mrs. Wood's East Lynne,Or as the verse of Wyatt. Without distraction thus we readFrom nine... more...

Brave and True, by E Dawson. “But I say, Martin, tell us about it! My pater wrote to me that you’d done no end of heroic things, and saved Bullace senior from being killed. His pater told him, so I know it’s all right. But wasn’t it a joke you two should be on the same ship?” Martin looked up at his old schoolfellow. He had suddenly become a person of importance in the well-known old haunts where he had learned... more...

CHAPTER I Motives to the present work—Reception of the Author's first publication—Discipline of his taste at school—Effect of contemporary writers on youthful minds—Bowles's Sonnets—Comparison between the poets before and since Pope. It has been my lot to have had my name introduced both in conversation, and in print, more frequently than I find it easy to explain, whether I consider the fewness, unimportance, and... more...

GOOD-BY BILL Dollar Bill, that I've held so tightEver since payday, a week ago,Shall I purchase with you tonightA pair of seats at the vaudeville show?(Hark! A voice from the easy chair:"Look at his shoes! We must buy a pair.")Dollar Bill, from the wreckage saved,Tell me, how shall I squander you?Shall I be shined, shampooed and shaved,Singed and trimmed 'round the edges, too?(Hark! A voice from the easy chair:"He hasn't a romper... more...

PREFACE To the readers of this poem an apology is needed for affixing thereto a praem. Some friends of mine have been plaguing me beyond the restrictive line of Patience for the true cause of conceiving the accompanying collection of words, balderdash or what you will, some even asseverating with the eruditeness of an Aristole that it was a nebulous idea, an embryonic form of thought hibernating within the cavities of my sinciput's inner apex,... more...

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SCYLD.The famous race of Spear-Danes. Lo! the Spear-Danes’ glory through splendid achievements The folk-kings’ former fame we have heard of, How princes displayed then their prowess-in-battle.Scyld, their mighty king, in honor of whom they are often called Scyldings. He is the great-grandfather of Hrothgar, so prominent in the poem. Oft Scyld the Scefing from scathers in numbers5 From many a people their... more...

Behind the Arras I like the old house tolerably well, Where I must dwell Like a familiar gnome; And yet I never shall feel quite at home: I love to roam. Day after day I loiter and explore From door to door; So many treasures lure The curious mind. What histories obscure They must immure! I hardly know which room I care for best; This fronting west, With the strange hills in view, Where the great sun goes,—where I may... more...

PHILOSOPHER'S GARDEN     "See this my garden,      Large and fair!"—Thus, to his friend,The Philosopher.   "'Tis not too long,"His friend replied,With truth exact,—  "Nor yet too wide.  But well compact,   If somewhat cramped    On every side." Quick the reply—  "But see how high!—  It... more...

THE BROOK. I come from haunts of coot and hern,I make sudden sallyAnd sparkle out among the fern,To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down,Or slip between the ridges,By twenty thorps, a little town,And half a hundred bridges. I chatter over stony ways,In little sharps and trebles,I bubble into eddying bays,I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fretBy many a field and fallow,And many a fairy foreland setWith... more...