Selections from the Miscellaneous Writings of Dr. George W. Bagby ...

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Whittet & Shepperson, 1884

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Page 46 - Oh ! never shall we. know again A heart so stout and true — The olden times have passed away, And weary are the new : The fair White Rose has faded From the garden where it grew, And no fond tears save those of heaven The glorious bed bedew Of the last old Scottish cavalier.
Page 41 - Now let us attempt to compare the Athenian standard of ability with that of our own race and time. We have no men to put by the side of Socrates and Phidias, because the millions of all Europe, breeding as they have done for the subsequent 2,000 years, have never produced their equals.
Page 44 - He kept his castle in the north, Hard by the thundering Spey ; And a thousand vassals dwelt around, All of his kindred they. And not a man of all that clan Had ever ceased to pray For the Royal race they loved so well, Though exiled far away...
Page xxvii - ... walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
Page 396 - What! me? I might's well tell you about the creation of the world." "Come, now; no mock modesty. Go ahead." "Well, sir, he had the blamedest biggest, cattycornedest pianner you ever laid eyes on; somethin' like a distractid billiard table on three legs.
Page 23 - My rambles before the war made me the guest of Virginians of all grades. Brightest by far of the memories of those days, that seem to have been passed in some other planet, is that of the Virginia mother, as I have so often seen her, in the midst of her tall sons and blooming daughters. Her delicacy, tenderness, freshness, gentleness; the absolute purity of her life and thought, typified in the spotless neatness of her apparel and her every surrounding, it is quite impossible to convey. Withal, there...
Page 396 - What sort of fool playin' is that?" And he says, "Heish!" But presently his hands commenced chasin' one another up and down the keys, like a passel of rats scamperin' through a garret very swift. Parts of it was sweet, though, and reminded me of a sugar squirrel turnin...
Page 14 - ... years, who never harmed a living soul, and who, I suspect, was more fretted than sorry when the young ones would persist in hiding their heads under the bed-clothes for fear of him? "You little geese! it's nobody but me," and "whish, whish, whish," he would go on with his idiotic whispering.
Page 124 - Now he turnsf and after one or two ineffectual efforts to get bis pole fixed in the rocky bottom of the river, secures his purchase, adjusts the upper part of the pole to the pad at his shoulder, bends to his task, and the long, but not ungraceful bark mounts the rapids like a seabird breasting the storm.
Page 1 - In simple truth and beyond question there was in our Virginia country life a beauty, a simplicity, a purity, an uprightness, a cordial and lavish hospitality, warmth and grace which shine in the lens of memory with a charm that passes all language at my xii command. It is gone with the social structure that gave it birth...

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