Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII No. 6 June 1848

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Various. Graham's Magazine Vol XXXII No. 6 June 1848

CAPTAIN SAMUEL WALKER

LAMARTINE TO MADAME JORELLE

PHANTOMS ALL

HOMEWARD BOUND

POOR PENN —

A SONG

THE ENCHANTED ISLE

THE CONTINENTS

JEHOIAKIM JOHNSON

CORIOLANUS

LENNARD

THE POLE'S FAREWELL

THE FORTUNES OF A SOUTHERN FAMILY

PART I

PART II

PART III

THE REAL AND THE IDEAL

THE HUMAN VOICE

VENICE AS IT WAS, AND AS IT IS

SONG. – THOU REIGN'ST SUPREME

THE NEW ENGLAND FACTORY GIRL

CHAPTER III

CHAPTER IV

CHAPTER V

LINES TO —

THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION

CINCINNATI

CLEOPATRA

REVIEW OF NEW BOOKS

Отрывок из книги

It was with a feeling of regret, such as stirs one's heart at parting with a dear friend, that I turned the last page of Irving's most delightful visit to Abbotsford, which he has given us in language so beautiful from its simplicity, so graphic in its details, and so heart-deep in its sincerity, that with him we ourselves seem to be partakers also of the hospitality and kindness of the immortal Scott.

"Every night," says Irving, "I retired with my mind filled with delightful recollections of the day, and every morning I arose with the certainty of new enjoyment."

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Her eyes were cast down, and her rich veil of golden tresses sweeping around her. At a little distance, with folded arms and bent brows, stood the Laird of Ravenswood, yet unable to approach the broken-hearted girl, as her proud, unfeeling mother, the stately Lady Ashton, kept close guard over her; and it made me shudder to behold, also, the old hag, Ailsie Gourley, crouching down by her bonny mistress, and stroking the lily-white hand which hung so listless at her side, mumbling the while what seemed to me must be some incantation to the Evil One.

"Wae's me – wae's me!" exclaimed that prince of serving-men, Caleb Balderstone, at this moment presenting himself before his master; "and is your honor, then, not ganging hame when Mysie the puir old body's in the dead thraw! Hech, sirs, but its awfu'! Ane of the big sacks o' siller – a' gowd, ye maun ken, which them gawky chields and my ain sell were lifting to your honor's chaumer, cam down on her head! Eh! but it gars me greet – ah! wull-a-wins, we maun a' dee!"

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