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Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software. The text has not been manually corrected and should not be relied on to be an accurate representation of the item.
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he said , ' You are not a good Christian if you laugh at that : * and when money was offered him by way of conciliation , he looked proudly at it and refused until it was pressed upon him , and then said , I take it for the box , * meaning the poor-box at his chapel . He came again and again—at last he disappeared , and we have since heard from another of the fraternity that poor Piorotti is dead .
He who told us " was a complete contrast to our old favourite . Calm ,, controlled , dignified , almost proud , he did not carry the f gallery / like his predecessor , but a box of medallions , which he bore under his arm , apparently with a lull consciousness of their worth and his own . He did not kindle at the praise bestowed upon them , but simply bowed his head as if to approve the judgment . Oh ! the inexhaustible treasure of beauty which that
small square box contained ! In that limited space what a concentration of genius ! what exquisite current coin of the realm of mind ! and with what a charm gifted—the best of all—that they are accessible both to rich and poor ! What a world of association lies in the compass of four inches ! Take for examples the * Morning' and ' Night . ' What a host of thoughts , feelings , and impressions are written upon those two small circular tablets
* Morning , ' bounding forth from her gorgeous eastern chamber , scattering roses bright as the crimson with which it is draperied , and sweet as the lips which , half opened , are hymning praise to the Spirit of Good who has bidden her go forth to gladden the hearts of the children of men . You fancy the air filled with
sweet sounds . There is the upspringing song of the lark ; there is the distant low of awakening cattle : there are insects innumerable , each and all lifting up the different voices with which Nature has gifted them , to herald the Morning on her way . The flowers lift up their heads to greet her , and , as she moves onward , it seems but to create fresh music—to call forth sweeter
perfume . The very excess of exhilaration brings soberness . There is the coming day so bright and joyous ; what will be its close ? What sights may it behold in its journey ? What clouds may cross its path ? what heavy tears may descend to dim its brightness ? And melancholy would come , but for that gentle ' Night , ' who , with quiet drooping head , silent wings , folded drapery , bids the weary children of men come rest upon her bosom , and , clasped in her protecting arms , there forget the ' cark and care' which followed in the track of her more radiantly
uprising sister . There is * Leander '—so wondrous in its power of differing expression , by a momentary change of position . Hold it thus—it is Leander urging his way through the mighty waters , his head erect above them , his shoulder strongly and bravely heaving them aside , to make for himself an ocean-path : his hair is streaming on the breeze , —but what are winds or waves to him ? he heeds them not—his steadfast eye is fixed on the
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Nov. 2, 1834, page 758, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2639/page/10/
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