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If the reader will refer to the rough copy and translation of old da Silvestra's map, he will see that the desert is marked as measuring forty leagues across, and the "pan bad water" is set down as being about in the middle of it. Now forty leagues is one hundred and twenty miles, consequently we ought at the most to be within twelve or fifteen miles of the water if any should really exist.
Philadelphia City Item. "This edition embraces all that is necessary to make a copy of Shakespeare desirable and correct." Niagara Democrat. "It must sooner or later drive all others from the market." N. Y. Evening Post. "Beyond all question, the very best edition of the great bard hitherto published." New England Religious Herald.
But, indeed, had I not known at the time of the transaction concerning the acting on the Stage and the sale of the Copy; I should, I think, have seen Mr. ADDISON in every page of it!
He began again in his chanting chorus tone: he was reading and transposing from a pocket copy of Theocritus. 'They all call thee a "gipsy," gracious Africa, and "lean" and "sunburnt," 'tis only I that call thee "honey-pale."
Young Wesley, a student at Newington Green, had been present at the wedding, with a copy of verses in his pocket: and there, in a corner of the Doctor's gloomy house in Spital Yard, he came on the Doctor's youngest daughter, a slight girl of fourteen, seated and watching the guests. She was but a child, and just then an unhappy one, though with no childish trouble.
She selected for the alleged place in which the ceremony was performed a very remote village, in which it appeared that the register had been destroyed. No attested copy thereof was to be found, and Catherine was stunned on hearing that, even if found, it was doubtful whether it could be received as evidence, unless to corroborate actual personal testimony.
He doubted, however, and did not knock at the door. It must not be thought that the Countess was unmoved when she received Daniel Thwaite's letter from Keswick enclosing the copy of his father's will. She was all alone, and she sat long in her solitude, thinking of the friend who was gone and who had been always true to her.
Richard Veneer very long, whatever may have been his sensibilities to art. He was more curious about books and papers. A copy of Keats lay on the table. He opened it and read the name of Bernard C. Langdon on the blank leaf. An envelope was on the table with Elsie's name written in a similar hand; but the envelope was empty, and he could not find the note it contained.
"Upon my soul and conscience," said he, "you are the most incomprehensible fellow I ever knew in my life!" "I am. I grant it. What then? Let us see, I am to give you a hundred and fifty francs for this copy ..." "I won't take it," said Müller. "I mean you to accept it as a pledge of friendship and good-will." "Nay, I insist on paying for it.
She had published by subscription a volume of verses, which was favorably noticed in the local newspapers and of which she sent a copy to the Queen, whereof Her Majesty had been kindly pleased to accept. Thus the poetess became a celebrity and a sort of public character in Dukes-Keeton, and when her father died it was felt that the town ought to do something for one who had done so much for it.
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