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Slowly I wander on beneath the warm roof of the winter-garden, and meditate upon that one word Life; and specially on all that Mr. Lewes has written so well thereon for instance 'We may consider Life itself as an ever-increasing identification with Nature.
All Holland was one broad level sheet of ice, over which the journey had been made in sledges. On the last day of January Prince Maurice, accompanied by Lewes William, and by eight state coaches filled with distinguished personages, left the Hague and halted at the Hoorn bridge, about midway between Ryswyk and the capital.
In 1878 she pub. The Impressions of Theophrastus Such, a collection of miscellaneous essays. In the same year Mr. Lewes d., an event which plunged her into melancholy, which was, however, alleviated by the kindness of Mr. John Cross, who had been the intimate friend of both L. and herself, and whom she m. in March, 1880.
And all the poor people are inspected and rushed about until they forget who their grandfathers were. They become villa parasites and odd-job men, and grow basely rich and buy gramophones. This Essex and yonder Surrey are as different as Russia and Germany. But for one American who comes to look at Essex, twenty go to Godalming and Guildford and Dorking and Lewes and Canterbury.
It is more pertinent to take the books as they are, in chronologic order, to point out so far as possible their particular merits. And first, the "Scenes from Clerical Life." It is interesting to the student of this novelist that her writing of fiction was suggested to her by Lewes, and that she tried her hand at a tale when she was not far from forty years old.
This being so, it follows that, speaking generally, the sensations of sleep, both external and internal, or organic, will be interpreted by what G.H. Lewes has called "an analogy of feeling;" that is to say, by means of a mental image having some kindred emotional character or colouring. Now, the analogy between the higher emotional and the bodily states is a very close one.
I should be much of a hound if I lost my gratitude to Herbert Spencer. Goethe's Life, by Lewes, had a great importance for me when it first fell into my hands a strange instance of the partiality of man's good and man's evil.
A glow of resentful disappointment swept through the North of England at the news. It burst out into flame in Lincolnshire, and was not finally quenched until the early summer of the following year. The news that reached Lewes from time to time during the winter and spring sent the hearts of all that heard it through the whole gamut of emotions.
George Lewes, with his wife, whom all the world knows as George Eliot, has also been and still is one of my dearest friends. He is, I think, the acutest critic I know, and the severest. His severity, however, is a fault. His intention to be honest, even when honesty may give pain, has caused him to give pain when honesty has not required it.
The 4.15 from Victoria to Lewes had been held up at Three Bridges in consequence of a derailment and, though John Lexman was fortunate enough to catch a belated connection to Beston Tracey, the wagonette which was the sole communication between the village and the outside world had gone. "If you can wait half an hour, Mr.
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