Harriet Martineau

Harriet Martineau

Once a Week (1860)

Summary

Portrait of Harriet Martineau Harriet Martineau Once a Week (1860)

Let us hope the middle-class citizens know what it is to see the mists rising above the Serpentine or the water in St. James’s Park;—to see the gleams and reflections on the calm surface first, and then, by degrees, the objects so reflected;—to see the massy tree-forms coming dimly out, and growing clearer every minute till the sunlight catches them, and kindles their tints and hollows out their recesses. I do not know a finer spectacle in any woodlands of any country than the trees in the London parks under an October sun.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harriet Martineau Harriet Martineau Once a Week (1860)

Our lily-of-the-valley is always spoken of by us apart from the crowd of common flowers. We have a shady place for it—a bed of leaves in a moist nook, where it flourishes as finely as in its own islet in the river: and some morning soon, I doubt not, I shall find beside my plate at breakfast a half-blown spike lying within its pair of cool leaves, and just sending forth its first faint perfume.
Our breakfast—trout, eggs, early grass butter, thick cream, radishes, flowers with their buzzing bees and stealing fragrance—must come to an end at last.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Harriet Martineau Harriet Martineau Once a Week (1860)

The difference between them and the hopeful, cheery endowment insurance, is the difference between the tick of a death-watch in the stifling chamber in the dreary night, and the stir and chirp of nestlings in the wood, in the breeze and glow of the morning. If the working-men of England saw the choice that lies before them, surely they could not hesitate between the life-fund and the death-fund for their children.
Source: Wikisource

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