Summary

Horatia K. F. Eden Juliana Horatia Ewing And Her Books

I have doubted whether Madam Liberality's besetting virtue were a virtue at all. Was it unselfishness or love of approbation, benevolence or fussiness, the gift of sympathy or the lust of power, or was it something else? She was a very sickly child, with much pain to bear, and many pleasures to forego. Was it, as the doctors say, "an effort of nature" to make her live outside herself, and be happy in the happiness of others?
All my earliest recollections of Julie (as I must call her) picture her as at once the projector and manager of all our nursery doings.
Source: Gutenberg

Horatia K. F. Eden Juliana Horatia Ewing And Her Books

Our old blind friend at Manchester has sent a lot. It is a very fine collection. I think few paintings do beat Watts's 'Love and Death'—Death, great and irresistible, wrapped in shrowd-like drapery, is pushing relentlessly over the threshold of a home, where the portal is climbed over by roses and a dove plays about the lintel. You only see his back. But, facing you, Love, as a young boy, torn and flushed with passion and grief, is madly striving to keep Death back, his arms strained, his wings crushed and broken in the unequal struggle.
Source: Gutenberg

Horatia K. F. Eden Juliana Horatia Ewing And Her Books

I'll come back yet, Leena, and live very near to you, and grow tulips, and be as good an old bachelor-uncle to your boy as Uncle Jacob is to me."
When they got to the hillock where Mother used to sit, Peter Paul took her once more into his arms.
"Good-bye, good sister," he said, "I have been back in my childhood again, and GOD knows that is both pleasant and good for one."
"And it is funny that you should say so," said Leena, smiling through her tears; "for when we were children you were never happy except in thinking of when you should be a man."
Source: Gutenberg

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