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Every well appointed lady was supposed to own a copy, and there is a little verse by Eustache Deschamps, a poet of the time of Charles V., in which a woman is supposed to be romancing about the various treasures she would like to possess.
It was from the publisher with whom he had had a conversation, it may be remembered, when he visited the city, and was to this effect: That Our Firm propose to print and stereotype the work originally published under the title of "Thoughts on the Universe"; said work to be remodelled according to the plan suggested by the Author, with the corrections, alterations, omissions, and additions proposed by him; said work to be published under the following title, to wit: : said work to be printed in 12mo, on paper of good quality, from new types, etc., etc., and for every copy thereof printed the author to receive, etc., etc.
While speaking, he handed me a copy of a general letter of instructions that had been drawn up for the army on the 24th. General Sheridan will then move independently under other instructions which will be given him.
"Yes, mawm; Sister Stella was always very good about that; helped me with the big words, and often wrote the whole thing out for me. Sometimes I had to copy it two or three times before I could please her." Belle hastily changed the subject. "Let Mr. Gemmell hear that piece you recited to me this morning."
The place was easy to find, seeing, as I have said, it was at the very end of the volume. The copy I had taken was correct: the date of the marriage in the register was January 15, and it was the first under the 1748, written at the top of the page. I stood for a moment gazing at it; then my eye turned to the entry before it, the last on the preceding page.
The life of Christ which divine, pure, incapable of copy and repetition in one aspect has ended for ever for men, remains to be lived, in another view of it, by every Christian, who in like manner has to fight with the world; who in like manner has to resist temptation; who in like manner has to stand, by God's help, pure and sinless, in so far as the new nature of him is concerned, in the midst of a world that is full of evil.
Some local historian of his time will doubtless give him more space; my wish is to have you know something more of the circumstances that have made me a prisoner in life instead of a free man; but prisoner as I am at the moment, I am sustained just now by a new courage. I read in my copy of Ovid last night: "The best of weapons is the undaunted heart."
The man answered that he knew nothing about them, that he had made a faithful copy. The tirade continued: it was so bitter and violent that the man could hardly restrain his fist from descending upon the head of the manikin before him: "I know nothing about any other two letters," he said stupidly. "You know nothing. Of course you know nothing," said Mr. Alleyne.
But the sound of the name brought no response from the eyes. "Please write out the name you want," he said finally, "and I will copy it for you if I can." It was hard for the boy to believe his own senses. But picking up a pen he wrote: "Ralph Waldo Emerson, Concord; November 22, 1881." Emerson looked at it, and said mournfully: "Thank you."
It is painful to trespass so long upon General Morris's bounty, though he be my friend, and I have not any means of stirring an inch from him unless I walk. For fear you should not be at Middletown, I shall enclose a copy of this letter to Mr. Reeves, and request him to forward it to you immediately if you should not be with him.
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