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deist and atheist are publicly birched.

It is not for his satires that 杭州会所论坛 Cowper is remembered: they were suggested to him, in the interests of religion and morals, by Mrs. Unwin, while Lady Austen, a lively person of quality, appointed to Cowper “The Task,” or rather gave him the subject of “The Sofa,” out of which grew “The Task”. The poet ambles, in an essay in blank verse, as much at his ease and as fond of digressions as Montaigne, from the days when man squatted on the ground, to his invention of a three-legged stool, the addition of a fourth leg, cushions, arm-chairs, the settee, finally the sofa. The sofa pleases the gouty; never may the poet have gout; he has done nothing to deserve it; in boyhood he

Has fed on scarlet and strong haws,
The bramble, black as jet, and sloes austere.

[Pg 439]

This introduces a rural digression.

Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain
Of spacious meads 杭州夜生活杭州百花坊 with cattle sprinkled o’er,
Conducts the eye along his sinuous course,
Delighted.

We think of

a river winding slow
By cattle, on an endless plain;
The ragged rims of thunder brooding low
With shadow streaks of rain.

How different are the methods of the two painters in words! The poet, finding geologists in the course of his wanderings, pities them, truth disclaiming them. Like Wordsworth he praises “retirement,” welcomes the newspaper, and welcomes tea. In the charming lines, “The Retired Cat,” temporarily shut up in a drawer lined “with linen of the softest kind,” he seems to smile at his own cosy retirement; the teacups, the happy listening ladies. He is full of human kindness, of love for children, cats, and his own tame hares; he sets out to gather flowers, he says, and comes home laden with moral fruits, and religious 杭州夜网杭州龙凤网 reflections, and with his sketch book full of landscapes like Gainsborough’s, and studies of cattle like Morland’s. “The Task” won for the poet countless friends who never saw his face; and, though we have become attuned to blank verse of many beautiful modulations which he never dreamed of (though now and then they were attained by Thomson), “The Task” may still be read with sympathy and pleasure.

Many of Cowper’s shorter poems, grave or gay, are in all memories: “The Wreck of the Royal George,” as spirited and sad as a ballad; the ringing notes of “Boadicea”; 杭州按摩电话 the idyllic sweetness of

The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;

the lines, “Addressed to a Young Lady,” brief and beautiful as the most tender epigrams of “The Greek Anthology,” from which Cowper’s translating hand 杭州水疗半套 gathered a little garland. Of these “The Swallow,” “Attic Maid with Honey Fed,” are worthy of the[Pg 440] original, as is “The Grass-hopper”. Cowper shone in occasional verses on trifling matters such as “The Dog and the Water-lily”; and pretty kindly compliments, such as “Gratitude” (to his cousin,

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Lady Hesketh), and things tender and touched with the sense of tears in mortal things, as in the “Epitaph on a Hare,” and the “To Mary” (of 1793). His “John Gilpin” is an unusual frolic.

The tr

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my dress after a long walk. As I began to hurry my toilette, 杭州滨江kj的地方 I heard enchanting 杭州桑拿流程 sounds from my piano below. Judge of my delight to be listening to Liszt’s improvisations. Instead, therefore, of hurrying, I prolonged my change of dress to what I considered would be the extremity of my visitor’s patience. But I found him friendly and smiling, not in 杭州足疗店的口一次多少钱 the least annoyed, when {144} I at last entered the room. Indeed, he evidently guessed why I had delayed so long, and was even amused at my little stratagem.

Here is a letter from him:

MADAME,

Le charme et l’émotion de votre chant m’a fait complètement oublier hier que je n’étais pas libre de 杭州夜网论坛 mes heures aujourd’hui. Veuillez bien m’accorder indulgence et me permettre de venir un autre jour pour vous renouveler mes très respectueux hommages?

FR. LISZT.

It was Liszt also who introduced to me Lassen, who came every morning to teach me his lovely 杭州水疗养生 songs. In 杭州按摩油压哪里好 Weimar, Lassen was quite an artistic personage.

But I might ramble on for ever with such reminiscences. A few words only about later acquaintances in London. Amongst these I think I ought specially to mention my distinguished compatriots, Glazounoff and Safonoff.

Tchaikovsky was also here and had fully intended to return to London, where his glorious music had become so popular, and had indeed accepted the invitation of an English friend to be his guest during the forthcoming visit. His death in Petrograd occurred shortly afterwards, to our great loss.

On one 杭州洗浴大酒店 of Glazounoff’s visits I had a small musical gathering, at which the young Russian ‘cellist, Varia Irmanoff, was to play her composition “Volga” (Air Russe pour Violoncelle), which she had dedicated to me. Unfortunately her accompanist never turned {145} up. Glazounoff, 杭州品茶按摩 杭州哪里有荤洗浴场所 seeing the poor girl’s embarrassment, then went very quietly to the

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piano and said, “I will accompany you.” Very Russian in kindness and simplicity! I was proud of him.

A few minutes later, when my other pianist, the talented Miss Vera Margolies, came, Glazounoff seemed delighted to meet his favourite Russian artist-friend, just returned from new successes in Paris, and about to achieve another success at the Queen’s Hall under the direction of our great Safonoff.

I must add a few words on Mrs. Rosa Newmarch. She has rendered great service to the artistic world 杭州养生spa馆 in publishing her two big volumes on our great Tchaikovsky, and her works on The Russian Opera and The Russian Arts, and we Russians must always think of Mrs. Rosa Newmarch’s efforts to bring about an artistic entente between Russia and England.

Safonoff, that grand 杭州丝袜批发市场 artist so well known to London orchestras and audiences, used, in his lighter moments, to amuse us with his inimitable six-line caricatures on the back of menu cards, or on any handy scraps of paper.

In these later years I used frequently to meet that grand violinist August Wilhelmj, and shall never forget the rather rare examples he gave us of his extraordinary gift of tone, in that respect reminding me somewhat of Laub.

I used also to meet Auer on his occasional visits here, during

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nst the east, about her a 杭州按摩店 low thunder of breakers. Where was the Pinta no man knew! Perhaps halfway back to Spain or perhaps wrecked and drowned like the flagship. The Nina, a small, small ship and none too seaworthy, carried all of Europe and Discovery.
CHAPTER XXII
IN the small, small cabin of the Nina Christopherus Columbus sat for a time with his head bowed in his arms, then rose and made up a mission to go to the cacique Guacanagari and, relating our misfortune, request aid and shelter until we had determined upon our course. There went Diego de Arana and Pedro Gutierrez with Luis Torres and 杭州品茶资源 one or two more, and they took Diego Colon and the two St. Thomas Indians. It was now full light, the shore and mountains green as emerald, the water its old unearthly blue.

The Nina swung at anchor just under the land and the now receding tide uncovered more and more 杭州品茶的地方你懂的 those sands where the Santa Maria lay huddled and dying. The Admiral gazed, and the tears ran down his face. He was so great that he never thought to hide just emotion. He spoke as though to himself. “Many sins have I, many, many! But thou wilt not, O God, cast me utterly away because of them! I will not doubt Thee, nor my calling!”

There was little space about him. The Nina seemed to quiver, packed and dark with men. His deep voice went on, and they could hear him, but he did not seem to know that they were there. “As though upon a raft, here a thousand leagues 杭州高档点的洗浴中心 in Ocean-Sea! Yet wilt Thou care for thy Good News. I will come to Spain, and I will tell it. Chosen, and almost by very name pointed out in Thy Book! The first Christian shore that I touch I will walk barefoot and in my shirt at the head of twelve to the first shrine. And, 杭州桑拿生活网 O my Lord, never more will I forget that that tomb in which thou didst rest, still, still is held by the infidel!” He beat his breast. “Mea culpa! mea culpa!”

His voice sank, he looked at the sky, then with a turn of the wrist at the wheel he put that by and became again the vigilant Admiral of a fleet of one. “She will hold together yet a while! When the tide is out, we can get to her and empty her. Take all ashore that can be carried or floated and may be of use. Up and down—down and up!”

The inhabitants of Hispaniola were now about us in canoes or swimming. 杭州足疗保健 They seemed to cry out in distress and sympathy, gazing at the Santa Maria as though it were a god dying there. Their own canoes were living things to them as is any ship to a mariner, and by analogy our great canoe was a Being dying, more of a Being than theirs, because it had wings and could open and fold them. And then back came our boat with Diego de Arana and the others, and they had with them that same brother of the cacique who had come to us in St. Thomas Harbor. And had

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we been wrecked off Palos, not Palos could have showed more concern or been more ready to help than were these men.

We had three boats and the Indian canoes and hands enough, white and copper-hued. Now at low tide, we could approach and enter the Santa Maria. A great breach had been made and water was deep in her hold, but we cou

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