Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 1, No. 2, July, 1850.
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Various. Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 1, No. 2, July, 1850.
THOMAS DE QUINCEY
THE MINER'S DAUGHTERS – A TALE OF THE PEAK
CHAPTER I – THE CHILD'S TRAGEDY
CHAPTER II. – MILL LIFE
CHAPTER III. – THE COURTSHIP AND ANOTHER SHIP
MOORISH DOMESTIC LIFE
THE RAILWAY STATION
THE SICK MAN'S PRAYER
SOPHISTRY OF ANGLERS. – IZAAK WALTON
GLOBES, AND HOW THEY ARE MADE
LETTICE ARNOLD
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION
FIFTY YEARS AGO
A PARIS NEWSPAPER
ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT
RECOLLECTIONS OF EMINENT MEN
ODE TO THE SUN
TWO-HANDED DICK THE STOCKMAN
THE USES OF SORROW
BENJAMIN WEST
PEACE
ALCHEMY AND GUNPOWDER
GLIMPSES OF THE EAST
CHRIST-HOSPITAL WORTHIES
LEIGH HUNT DROWNING
WILLIAM PITT
IGNORANCE OF THE ENGLISH
LINES BY ROBERT SOUTHEY
THE SCHOOLMASTER OF COLERIDGE AND LAMB
EDUCATION IN AMERICA
SCENES IN EGYPT
SCENERY ON THE ERIE RAILROAD
BATHING – ITS UTILITY
POVERTY OF THE ENGLISH BAR
SONNET ON THE DEATH OF WORDSWORTH
MAURICE TIERNAY,
CHAPTER II. THE RESTAURANT "AU SCÉLÉRAT."
CHAPTER III. THE "TEMPLE."
CHAPTER IV "THE NIGHT OF THE NINTH THERMIDOR."
CHAPTER V. THE CHOICE OF A LIFE
THE PLANET-WATCHERS OF GREENWICH
RAPID GROWTH OF AMERICA
LORD COKE AND LORD BACON
FATHER AND SON
DIPLOMACY – LORD CHESTERFIELD
THOMAS MOORE
THE APPETITE FOR NEWS
A FEW WORDS ON CORALS
A NIGHT IN THE BELL INN
DEATH OF CROMWELL
MY WONDERFUL ADVENTURES IN SKITZLAND
CHAPTER THE FIRST. THE BEGINNING IS A BORE – I FALL INTO MISFORTUNE
CHAPTER THE SECOND. OF DIVISIONS WHICH OCCUR IN SKITZLAND – I AM TAKEN UP
CHAPTER THE THIRD. MY IMPRISONMENT AND TRIAL FOR MURDER
CHAPTER THE FOURTH. THE LAST HOURS OF THE CONDEMNED IN SKITZLAND – I AM EXECUTED
CHAPTER THE FIFTH. MY REVENGE ON THE SKITZLANDERS
CHARLOTTE CORDAY
GREENWICH WEATHER-WISDOM
DOING
YOUNG RUSSIA
THE ORPHAN'S VOYAGE HOME
LORD BYRON, WORDSWORTH, AND CHARLES LAMB
AMERICAN VANITY
MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS
LITERARY NOTICES
Summer Fashions
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There is no really beautiful part of this kingdom so little known as the Peak of Derbyshire. Matlock, with its tea-garden trumpery and mock-heroic wonders; Buxton, with its bleak hills and fashionable bathers; the truly noble Chatsworth and the venerable Haddon, engross almost all that the public generally have seen of the Peak. It is talked of as a land of mountains, which in reality are only hills; but its true beauty lies in valleys that have been created by the rending of the earth in some primeval convulsion, and which present a thousand charms to the eyes of the lover of nature. How deliciously do the crystal waters of the Wye and the Dove rush along such valleys, or dales, as they there are called. With what a wild variety do the gray rocks soar up amid their woods and copses. How airily stand in the clear heavens the lofty limestone precipices, and the gray edges of rock gleam cut from the bare green downs – there never called downs. What a genuine Saxon air is there cast over the population – what a Saxon bluntness salutes you in their speech!
It is into the heart of this region that we propose now to carry the reader. Let him suppose himself with us now on the road from Ashford-in-the-water to Tideswell. We are at the Bull's Head, a little inn on that road. There is nothing to create wonder, or a suspicion of a hidden Arcadia in any thing you see, but another step forward, and – there! There sinks a world of valleys at your feet. To your left lies the delicious Monsal Dale. Old Finn Hill lifts his gray head grandly over it. Hobthrush's Castle stands bravely forth in the hollow of his side – gray, and desolate, and mysterious. The sweet Wye goes winding and sounding at his feet, amid its narrow green meadows, green as the emerald, and its dark glossy alders. Before us stretches on, equally beautiful, Cressbrook Dale; Little Edale shows its cottages from amidst its trees; and as we advance, the Mousselin-de-laine Mills stretch across the mouth of Miller's Dale, and startle with the aspect of so much life amid so much solitude.
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On drove the farmer at what he called a spanking rate; presently they saw the young mill-people on the road before them.
"There are your companions," said James Cheshire; "we shall cut past them like a flash of lightning."
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