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Inklings of Adventure, by the Author of 'pencillings by the Way'.
Inklings of Adventure by the Author of 'pencillings by the Way' Author:Nathaniel Parker Willis General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1836 Original Publisher: Saunders and Otley Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you ... more »can select from more than a million books for free. Excerpt: EDITH LINSEY. PART I. FROST AND FLIRTATION. " Oh yes -- for you're in love with me/ (I'm very glad of it, I'm sure;) But then you are not rich, you see, And I you know I'm very poor! "Pis true that I can drive a tandem -- 'Tis true that I can turn a sonnet -- Tis true I leave the law at random, When I should study -- plague upon it! But this is not -- excuse me! -- m y ! (A thing they give for house and land;) And we must eat in matrimony -- And love is neither bread nor honey -- And so you understand?" " Thou art spotless as the snow, lady mine, lady mine! Thou art spotless as the snow, lady mine! But the noon will have its ray, And snow-wreaths melt away -- And hearts -- why should not they? -- Why not thine ?" It began to snow. The air softened; the pattering of the horses' hoofs was muffled with the impeded vibration; the sleigh glided on with a duller sound; the large loose flakes fell soft and fast, and the low and just audible murmur, like the tread of a fairy host, melted on the ear with a drowsy influence, as if it were a descent of palpable sleep upon the earth. You may talk of falling water -- of the running of a brook -- of the humming song of an old crone on a sick vigil -- or of the levi susurro of the bees of Hybla, -- but there is nothing like the falling of the snow for soft and soothing music. You hear it or not as you will, but it melts into your soul unaware. If you have ever a heart-ache, or feel the need of "poppy or mandragora," or, like myself, grow sometimes a-weary of the stale repetitions of this unvar...« less