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...poetical nature of the book is also to be noticed, which is a rare merit in a work of this nature. The divinus afflatus has rarely inspired a man to indite odes to his mother-in-law, and almost as rarely does the gentle muse of poetry venture over into the stern and barren fields of philosophy. It has been said that Locke only needed rhyme to become a poet. We submit respectfully to the author the propriety of turning his work into a metrical form. To revel in a lyric on the "Complex Modes of Extension or Duration...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: BOOK REVIEW. | 11/6/1874 | See Source »

...man who has the most thankless task to perform in College is the director of the Reading-Room. It is with feelings of pity that we have noticed his crestfallen look after he has asked half a dozen men to subscribe and has received not a single name. He is one from whom much is required and to whom little is given. If the gas in the room is cut off, if each subscriber's pet paper is not furnished him, or if there is anything else which is not just as it should be, the director is called...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: READING-ROOM. | 10/23/1874 | See Source »

...man does not use the rooms at all and does not think it his duty to pay for them; another does not use them very much, don't think he gets two dollars worth from them (pity the director can't make a discount for his benefit); another paid last year and year before that, and thinks that the others can support it this year. Any one of these excuses is considered sufficient for not subscribing, and the result of course is that it is with great difficulty that the association is each year kept from dissolution, scarcely enough money...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: READING-ROOM. | 10/23/1874 | See Source »

...glean from time-tables, which I studied carefully before leaving Christiania.) On board the steamboat I talk affably to the passengers around me. They are very good listeners, but no conversationalists. They say nothing to me, but only smile and shake their heads. Finally I ask a gray-haired man the name of the lake on which we are sailing. He replies thoughtfully, "Most always on Sunday." I repeat my question, thinking he misunderstood me. He says, " I no understand English." I reply sarcastically, "Evidently not." He smiles sweetly and is silent...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN. | 10/23/1874 | See Source »

...myself. Get in and chirrup to the horse. He does not stir. The boy produces a whip, and, lashing the animal, says something that sounds like "shoe blacking," whereupon my Bellerophon breaks into an uncouth gallop (on afterthought, am not quite certain whether Bellerophon was a horse or a man...

Author: NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED | Title: THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN. | 10/23/1874 | See Source »