Various

“ It is not a fine street, and only here and there is it at all striking or picturesque. But now, as of yore, it is the high road between the two cities—puissant London and imperial Westminster. From the days of the Edwards to this latest moment it has been the artery through which the tide of Empire has flowed. Whenever England has been victorious or has rejoiced, whenever she has been in sadness or tribulation, the Strand has witnessed it all. ”

“ From a certain point of view, the wild devilry of the whole thing cannot be excelled: as a picture of weird activity it stands alone. Yet a few hours later, when under the still, starlit canopy of heaven they are reposing by their exhausted camels, wrapped in the silence of sleep, a crescent moon glimmering over the crest of the distant uplands, one feels infinitely more impressed than before. ”

“ No sooner was he within than the palace resumed its first position.
The prince penetrated a room that was as bright as the sun, of which the floor, the walls, and the ceiling were of glass. He paused, full of astonishment, for instead of one princess, he perceived twelve—all of the same beauty, all having the grace, all the same golden locks as the true princess.
As soon as the princess set eyes on the prince, she uttered a cry of joy and sprang to meet him.
"If life is dear to you," she cried, "fly from hence, for Vikhar may return at any moment, and he could kill you with a look!" ”

“ Lakes are even more restful than rivers or the sea. Rivers are always flowing, though it may be but slowly; the sea may rest awhile, now and then, but is generally full of action and energy, while lakes seem to sleep and dream. Lakes in a beautiful country are like silver ornaments on a lovely dress, like liquid gems in a beautiful setting, or bright eyes in a lovely face. Indeed, as we look down on a lake from some hill or cliff it almost looks solid, like some great blue crystal. It is interesting and delightful to trace a river from its source to the sea. ”

“ She loved it the more passionately perhaps for its infirmities; but sometimes the loneliness of her life overpowered her like a flood of bitter waters; she wanted some mind to speak to, some heart to answer hers, some tenderness to lean upon and trust. She was yet but very young, only twenty-two years old, and all the currents of life beat strongly within her; all the imperative demands for love, for praise, for happiness, which make so large a part of our youth, were still alive in her heart, and would not easily be silenced. ”

“ Again and again, when, after straining every faculty of my brain, I made my move and raised my eyes to watch in the priest's face the effect of a stroke to which I saw no reply, a faint mocking smile would curl for a moment his cruel lips, and the black knight would be moved once more, threatening dangers which I had overlooked, and dashing my premature hopes to the ground. It was as though some secret link existed between that particular bit of bone and the grim, ghoulish spectator of our game. ”

“ Then I stood within the chapel, where all was silent, and a Cimmerian gloom reigned. Far in the depths of the darkness was a glimmering, star-like lamp over the altar, but its beams, feeble and straggling, revealed nothing, it only accentuated the pitchy blackness all around. The feeble lanterns of the monks, one to every third stall, were invisible from my position. Everything was suggestive of a tomb far down in the bowels of the earth—the silence, the cold, the damp earthy smell that filled one's nostrils, all seemed to indicate decaying mortality. ”

“ In life and death—you are mine, Filippo!"
"Silence!" cried he, very loudly. The colour rushed to his very brow as he with both arms pushed the passionate pleader from him. "Silence! And let there be an end of this, to-day, and for ever. Am I a creature or thing to be seized upon by whoever will and whoever takes a fancy to me? I am a man, and whoever would have me I must give myself up to freely. ”

“ He listened in a dull unhearing way to the grating sound of heavy bolts drawn to, and he heard the footsteps of the two familiars die away in the distance. Then his voice and strength returned to him, and he rose and threw himself against the door of his cell, screeching and foaming at the mouth. For an hour he raved on, and then, overcome by exhaustion, he sank down on the dark, cold floor of his cell. Hours, days, months passed, he knew not how long; time had no more an existence to him, for no light of day could pierce the solid masonry which surrounded him. ”

“ One night the luxuriant trees were cut down by the soldiers of Don Enrique, and heaped upon the bridge. At day-dawn an immense fire raged on the bridge of San Martin, which assumed huge proportions, its sinister gleams lighting up the devastating hordes, the flowing current of the Tagus, the Palace of Don Rodrigo, and the little Arab Tower. The crackling of the strong and massive pillars, worked with all the exquisite skill of the artificers who created the marvels of the Alhambra, sounded like the piteous cry of Art oppressed by barbarism. ”

“ But the old hope chirped in his soul—the divine "Perhaps," the comforter in the worst of distresses. A miracle had taken place! There was no more room for doubt. He began again to crawl towards the possible escape. Worn out with suffering and with hunger, trembling with anguish, he advanced. The sepulchral corridor seemed to lengthen out mysteriously. And he, never ceasing his slow advance, gazed forward through the darkness, on, on, where there must be an outlet that should save him. ”

“ Accustoming one's eyes to the deepening twilight, one certainly sees here and there groups of men, women, and, in some cases, children huddled together in strange attitudes and gloomy corners round about the dark entry to the cathedral—horror depicted on the faces of some, perfect serenity on those of others, yet never a word do they utter. They are "in the garden of sleep." They are dead, all dead, the market-place, after a hard day's fighting, being deserted by the living—all save you and I, and that spectre-like sentry yonder on the cathedral tower "on guard." ”

“ I blushed to think that I had been so foolish in in the presence of a stranger.
"Just look," said my mother to me, without taking any notice of him, "how fair you are; like a white rose."
"Mamma!" I cried.
"Only look at these white arms," and she pulled my sleeves above the elbow without the smallest scruple.
"But, mamma," I said, "what are you thinking of, before a stranger!"
"A stranger? it is a mirror."
"I don't mean the glass, but this young gentleman who was behind it, like a lover in a comedy."
"Eh! goose," cried my father, "you need not be so bashful. It is your husband." ”

“ I had never heard a musical instrument in my life or seen a festival, and I was too young for love—and yet, perhaps, not all too young for noble love and chivalry, if the princess or the lady came my way.
With the spring of the next year health began to stir in my veins. I shook off all the lassitudes and languors of illness, and by April I felt better than ever in my young life before. With returning health, the romantic rapture which had come to me out of books grew and intensified. ”

“ In scenes like these, it is not the peaceful charm uniformly spread over the face of Nature that moves the heart, but rather the peculiar physiognomy and conformation of the land, the features of the landscape, the ever varying outline of the clouds, and their blending with the horizon of the sea, whether it lies spread before us like a smooth and shining mirror, or is dimly seen through the morning mist. ”

“ Denis O'Hara glanced at the sketch. "It is mine," he said, simply.
For a moment the man who had asked that question stood silent and still, gazing down at the picture in his hand, his thoughts and memories centred in something it had recalled. Something—a dream, a hope, a memory?
Ah! even men, the coldest and hardest of men, may have one such dream, one such hope, one such memory. "So it is yours, that sketch," said Jasper Trenoweth. "But it is unfinished. Lend me your pencil, Denis; you may have the credit of the sketch, but I think I alone could tell the story aright." ”

“ Sweeping round, the vision meets an aggregate of peaks which look, as fledglings to their mother, towards the mighty Dom. Then come the repellent crags of Mont Cervin; the ideal of moral savagery, of wild, untamable ferocity, mingling involuntarily with our contemplation of the gloomy pile. Next comes an object scarcely less grand, conveying, it may be, even a deeper impression of majesty and might than the Matterhorn itself—the Weisshorn, perhaps the most splendid object in the Alps. But beauty is associated with its force, and we think of it, not as cruel, but as grand and strong. ”

“ The sky is always blue; the sun is always hot. It is girdled by the sea. It is always silent, for the Indian children do not laugh or shout, and the Indian women are too much awed by the presence of the dead to wrangle—always silent, save for the crying of the sea-birds on the rock. There are no letters, no newspapers, no friends, no duties—none, save when a ship puts in, and then, for the doctor, farewell rest, farewell sleep, until the bill of health is clean. ”

“ The gods perchance envy us, and soon draw the veil aside and show us that happiness is a myth, and innocence a dream, and love but an illusion, and fame the breath of envy forced to distil its gold, and only valuing what it purchases by weight of the world's coinage. And in that world there seems no truth, and no honour, only corruption and vileness. Men's lives and days are spent in greed and selfishness, and all noble dreams, and high endeavours, and all loveliness and purity and simplicity of life are of no account. ”

“ We have in this article treated of babies only when they are inarticulate, when none but the mother or the constant nurse can understand them. That is commonly reckoned by the stranger or the mere male person the least interesting age of all, but to the mother—and, indeed, to all women and grown girls—it is the most interesting. Then the baby's clinging helplessness, its wide stare of wonder, and its bright, human smile and crow of response to a kind look or tone, suffuse the female heart with an unimaginable delight. What pride is felt in the health and beauty and weight of the baby! ”

“ He thought of it only as a horrible, cruel, devouring creature, rushing headway on at full speed to Netta's destruction. It was a senseless wild beast, to be combated at all hazards. It was a hideous, ruthless, relentless thing, to be checked in its mad career in no matter what fashion. All he knew, indeed, was that Netta, his Netta, lay helpless on the track, and that the engine, like some madman, puffing and snorting with wild glee and savage exultation, was hastening forward with fierce strides to crush and mangle her.
At any risk he must stop it—with anything—anyhow. ”