WILLIAM HENRY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER.
From our childhood up we have all heard of "Good Queen Anne." When we
were small tots in the nursery we sang little rhymes about
Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sat in the sun.
I send you three letters, you don't read one.
Then as we grew older we succumbed more or less to the rage for the
eighteenth century which has laid hold on so large a section of English
and Americans during the last few years. And we began to use Queen
Anne's name in season and out of season--to talk glibly of Queen Anne
architecture, Queen Anne furniture, and Queen Anne plate. The subject is
doubtless an interesting one. And I for one am grateful to Queen
Anne--or rather to the architects of her reign. Those stately red brick
houses of her time, though they are far less graceful than Elizabethan
mansions, and less romantic than the French chateaux of the same period
with their high roofs, and charming tourelles with extinguisher tops,
are among the most comfortable, homelike, lovable dwelling-places we can
find in England.
The plate too of Queen Anne's reign is justly esteemed as the handsomest
and richest that can be found. As I write a bit of veritable Queen Anne
plate stands beside me on the table--a graceful little candlestick five
inches high, of plain, solid silver. No need to look at its Hall-mark,
or puzzle over its history; for the only ornament on its foot is an
open-work pattern formed of roughly cut letters, "Queen Anne. 1702"; and
on the rim above is engraved "His Highness Prince George. S.^{L}S. Anno
Dom. 1702."
The candlestick was a present from Queen Anne on her coronation, to a
certain old ancestress of ours, who had been one of the ladies in
attendance on the Queen's young son, William Henry, Duke of
Gloucester--the only one of her numerous children who lived beyond his
babyhood.
This little boy, the last of our children of Westminster Abbey, was born
on July 24, 1689. It was a memorable year in the history of England, for
it had seen the great and bloodless revolution by which James the Second
had been driven from Great Britain, and William the Third put on the
throne. The misgovernment of James had become unbearable; and William,
Prince of Orange, who had married the king's eldest daughter Mary, was
invited "by a small party of ardent Whigs to assist in preserving the
civil and religious liberties of the nation." William and Mary accepted
the Declaration of Right, and were crowned as joint sovereigns on April
11, 1689. They had no children. So when Princess Anne, the Queen's
sister, and wife of Prince George of Denmark, gave birth to her little
boy in the following July, he was welcomed as the future King of
England.
King William and the King of Denmark were the baby's godfathers. The
marchioness of Halifax was his godmother. Queen Mary adopted him as her
heir; and the king conferred upon him the title of Duke of Gloucester:
but he was not created Duke "because his mother considered that title
dreadfully unlucky."
But at first it seemed highly improbable that the poor child would live
long. He was delicate from his birth--very small--and for two months his
death was constantly expected. The doctors advised an incessant change
of nurses; and the wretched baby, as was to be expected, grew weaker and
weaker. At last, however, a fine-looking young Quakeress, a Mrs. Pack,
with a month-old baby in her arms, came up from Kingston to tell the
Princess Anne of a remedy which had done her children good. The Prince
of Denmark besought her to become wet-nurse to the suffering little
prince; and from that moment the unfortunate child began to thrive.
[Illustration: WESTMINSTER ABBEY, LOOKING TOWARD THE ALTAR. _From
etching by H. Toussaint._]
Then came the question of the most healthy residence for the baby on
whom so much depended. And Princess Anne at length chose Lord Craven's
fine house at Kensington Gravelpits, which he offered to lend her for
the little prince's nursery. He went out every day, no matter how cold
it was, in a tiny carriage which the Duchess of Ormonde presented to
him. The horses were in keeping with the size of the carriage; for they
were a pair of Shetland ponies "scarcely larger than good-sized
mastiffs," and were guided by Dick Drury, the Prince of Denmark's
coachman.
The first two or three years of the little Duke of Gloucester's life
were spent between Lord Craven's house at Kensington, and London. For in
those days Kensington was a country village, out in the woods and
fields. West of Mayfair there were no houses until Kensington was
reached on the breezy slopes of Camden Hill. South Kensington, that vast
quarter of handsome houses, has only come into existence in the last
fifty years. The writer's grandfather was laughed at for going "out of
town," when he and his old friend, Lord Essex, built themselves two of
the first houses in Belgrave Square about 1830. And one of his
sons-in-law, when a lad at Westminster School early in the century,
remembers snipe-shooting in the marshes which separated Chelsea from
London.
The Princess Anne and the queen were on exceedingly bad terms, the chief
reason of their disagreement being Anne's passionate devotion to the
famous Sarah Jennings, wife of the yet more famous Duke of Marlborough.
The Marlboroughs, a clever, able, ambitious, unscrupulous pair,
encouraged the jealousy between the sisters to secure their own ends,
and at length formed a "Princess's party," which gave William the Third
considerable trouble during his reign. The Queen insisted that Lady
Marlborough, as she then was, should be dismissed from the Princess's
service. Anne was equally determined to keep her beloved friend about
her at all risks. This led to endless disputes and quarrels between the
royal ladies; and the little Duke of Gloucester became a fresh subject
of contention. When she was in town,
the Princess, who was a tender mother, passed much of her
time in the nursery of her heir.... Whenever the Queen heard
her sister was there she forebore to enter the room, but
would send an inquiry or a message to her royal nephew--"a
compliment," as it was called in the phraseology of the day.
The set speech used to be delivered by the queen's official
in formal terms to the unconscious infant, as he sat on his
nurse's knee; and then the courtly messenger would depart,
without taking the slightest notice of the Princess Anne,
although she was in the room with her child. Sometimes Queen
Mary sent her nephew rattles or balls, or other toys, all
which were chronicled in the _Gazette_ with great solemnity;
but every attention to the little Gloucester was attended
with some signal impertinence to his mother.[109]
For two years the little boy throve well in the good air of Kensington,
without any illness. But in the third year he was attacked by ague.
Fifty years before he would probably have been bled and reduced in every
way, and would speedily have died. But medical science was improving;
and a wonderful discovery had been made in far-off Peru. The ague was
cured by Doctor Radcliffe and Sir Charles Scarborough, "who prescribed
the Jesuit's Powder, of which the Duke took large quantities early in
the spring of 1694, for the same complaint most manfully."[110]
This Jesuit's Powder was none other than the famous Peruvian Bark, made
as we all know from the bark of the Chinchona trees, so-called by
Linnaeus after the Countess of Chincon, wife of the Viceroy of Peru. This
lady's cure in 1638 from a desperate fever, brought the quinine--the
"bark-of-barks" as its Indian name signifies--into notice, and gave the
world one of the most precious remedies we possess against disease.
This ague was the first, but by no means the last illness our poor
little boy had to endure; for all through his short life he was
delicate.
His faithful attendant, Jenkin Lewis, a young man who was tenderly
attached to him, has left us a most interesting memoir of the young
prince. And from this we get charming details of his daily life, his
many illnesses, and his character.
When first he began to walk about and speak plain, he
fancied he must be of all trades; one day a carpenter,
another day a smith, and so on; which the queen observing
sent him a box of ivory tools, said to cost twenty-five
pounds, which he used till he learnt the names of them, and
also the terms of those mechanical arts.[111]
[Illustration: THE OLD DORMITORY AT WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.]
But from his infancy the little duke began to show his passion for
horses, drums, and anything to do with soldiers. In 1693, when he was
only four years old, he threw away childish toys, saying he was a man
and a soldier. And he had up from Kensington village a little company of
twenty-two boys, wearing paper caps and armed with wooden swords, who
enlisted themselves as his guard. The duke was enchanted; and appointed
a very pretty boy, Sir Thomas Lawrence's son, to be lieutenant. This
little army was his constant delight. In a short time the child gained a
real knowledge of military matters; and before long he began to use his
bodyguard to some purpose. In 1694, seeing how active he was, and that
"his stiff-bodied coats were very troublesome to him in his military
amusements," the Prince and Princess put him into breeches on Easter
Day.
His suit was a white camblet, with silver loops, and buttons
of silver thread. He wore stiff stays under his waistcoat,
which hurt him; whereupon, Mr. Hughes, his taylor, was sent
for; when he came the duke bade his boys (whom he stiled his
Horse Guards) put the taylor on the wooden horse, which
stood in the presence-room for the punishment of offenders,
as is usual in martial law: who presently were for hoisting
him on, if they had had strength enough.[112]
It must have been an absurd scene. The little duke, not five years old,
in his first pair of breeches, long waistcoat of white and silver, and
coat with wide skirts and handsome, deep-cuffed sleeves--the bodyguard
of small rogues setting on their victim--and the hapless tailor, who was
so genuinely alarmed at these violent proceedings, that good-natured
Jenkin had to beg him off.
A year or two later we find the duke going down to Kensington Palace,
where he ordered his boys--now two companies numbering ninety in all,
armed with wooden swords and muskets, and in red grenadiers' caps--to
exercise in the garden before the king and queen. The king was
delighted; and gave the young soldiers twenty guineas, besides two gold
pieces which he presented to one of them, William Gardner, who beat the
drum "equal to the ablest drummer." The next day, Sunday, the king sent
word he was coming to visit his nephew. This was a great occasion, as
the king very seldom came to see him. The duke prepared a pasteboard
fortification, and got his four little brass cannon ready; and when the
king arrived the boy was so engrossed in shewing him that he could
salute him like a soldier and afterwards "compliment him," that he could
not be persuaded to thank His Majesty first for coming. He fired his
cannon, and he
then talked to the king of horses and arms, and thanked him
of his own accord for the honor he did him in coming to see
him. He told the king that one of his cannon was broke; the
king promised to send him some cannon, but never did; the
duke thanked him and complimented him in these words--"My
dear king, you shall have both my companies with you to
Flanders," where the king was to go soon after.[113]
All his talk was of wars, soldiers, and fortifications.
He was scarce seven years old when he understood the terms
of fortification and navigation, knew all the different
parts of a strong place, and a ship of war, and could
marshall a company of boys, who had voluntarily listed
themselves to attend him.... He had a particular aversion to
dancing and all womanish exercises, his whole delight being
in martial sports and hunting.[114]
Even when he was ill in bed he insisted on having his cannon drawn up
in his sight, and made his servant stand sentinel at his door as in a
fortress. The faithful Jenkin told him stories of Alexander and Caesar,
and on the sly studied the art of fortification, in order to teach the
young duke more about it. But this was discovered by Lady Fitz Hardinge,
who was the queen's spy in Princess Anne's household. Jenkin Lewis was
threatened with instant dismissal if he ventured again to instruct the
boy in matters with which he had no concern; and he was obliged
regretfully to put away his fortification books. But he found a more
allowable diversion in putting some of the young duke's words of command
into verse, and had them set to music by Mr. John Church, "one of the
gentlemen of Westminster Abbey, who had studied Mr. Henry Purcel's works
and imitated his manner." It was not very grand poetry, but the little
soldier was delighted. It begins--
Hark! hark! the hostile drum alarms;
Let ours now beat and call to arms!
In 1696, after the discovery of the Rye House Plot, loyal addresses were
offered to the king by both Houses of Parliament, and an association was
formed to preserve King William or avenge his death, which was very
generally signed throughout the kingdom. The Duke of Gloucester and his
boys were eager to follow the public example. The duke composed an
address which one of his boys wrote down as follows:
I, your Majesty's most dutiful subject, had rather lose my
life in your Majesty's cause, than in any man's else; and I
hope it will not be long 'ere you conquer France.
(_Signed_) GLOSTER.
He also dictated one for his boys and his household to sign, which was
much to the point, and ran thus:
We, your Majesty's dutiful subjects, will stand by you as
long as we have a drop of blood.
The prince and his boys were closely associated in all their pursuits
and interests. Not only did they study the art of war, but they were
catechised together by Mr. Prat, the duke's first tutor. The child had
been carefully instructed in religion from his infancy. "He had early
suck'd in his mother's piety," says one writer, "and was always
attentive to prayers." One day in the catechising, Mr. Prat asked him
before his boys, "How can you, being born a prince, keep yourself from
the pomps and vanities of this world?" And the little fellow made the
simple and straightforward answer, "I will keep God's commandments, and
do all I can to walk in his ways."
[Illustration: DINING HALL, WESTMINSTER SCHOOL.]
He was a pretty boy. Something like his royal mother in her younger
days; for she is described as a "sylph-like creature" when a girl,
though she afterwards grew to be the mountain of fat we know in most of
her portraits. His face was oval; and for the most part glowed with a
fine colour. His shape was fine, his body easy, and his arms finely
hung.[115]
His disposition was naturally a sweet one; and he was admirably loyal to
his friends and attendants, always willing to take blame himself rather
than allow another to be scolded. But his weak health, a strong will,
and a hot temper made him liable to fits of passion in which he lost all
control over himself. Jenkin Lewis describes some of these outbursts of
fury, and one in particular when he was the object of the prince's
wrath. Jenkin quietly turned him round to the looking-glass, so that the
boy might see what a shocking spectacle he was making of himself.
Whereupon his passion fell as quickly as it had risen. He grew calm upon
seeing himself, and expressed his sorrow.
When he was nine years old, the king appointed Bishop Burnet to be his
preceptor, and the Duke of Marlborough to be his governor.
The Bishop writes two years later, that he had made "amazing progress."
They had read together the Psalms, Proverbs and Gospels, and the bishop
had explained things that fell in his way "very copiously, and was often
surprised at the questions he put me, and the reflections that he made.
He came to understand things relating to religion beyond
imagination."[116] Besides religion the good bishop seems to have
crammed his pupil's head with a mass of knowledge--geography, forms of
government in every country, the interests and trades of every nation,
the history "of all the great revolutions that had been in the world;"
and he explained "the Gothic constitution and the beneficiary and feudal
laws."
No wonder that as one historian says, "his tender constitution bended
under the weight of his manly soul, and was too much harass'd by the
vivacity of his genius, to be of long duration.... In a word, he was too
forward to arrive at maturity."[117]
On July 24, 1700, the Duke of Gloucester was eleven years old. The next
day Bishop Burnet tells that he complained a little: but every one
thought he was tired with his birthday festivities. The day after he
grew rapidly worse. A malignant fever declared itself, and he "died on
the fourth day of his illness, to the great grief of all who were
concerned with him." He was buried quite quietly, in the same vault as
his great-uncle Henry, Duke of Gloucester, beside their common
ancestress, Mary, Queen of Scots.
The death of this little boy was an event of enormous importance to
England. The Stuart line was at an end, and the eyes of England now
turned to George Lewis, the Elector of Hanover, grandson of that
unfortunate Queen of Bohemia, who we know best as Princess Elizabeth,
the favorite sister and playfellow of Henry Frederick, Prince of Wales.
And with the death of "the last hope of the race--thus withered, as it
must have seemed, by the doom of Providence"[118]--our history of the
children of Westminster draws to a close. Besides those whose lives and
stories we have studied together, there are several of whom little is
known but the facts of their death and burial in our stately Abbey. The
year before little William, Duke of Gloucester, was born, two "holy
innocents" were laid to rest at Westminster; one, Nicholas Bagnall, an
"infant of two months old, by his nurse unfortunately overlaid," is
commemorated by a white marble urn in the Chapel of St. Nicholas, among
the Percys and the Cecils. And in the Cloisters there is a touchingly
simple tablet which Dean Stanley delighted to point out to every one,
bearing these words:
"Jane Lister, dear child, died October 7, 1688."
[Illustration: A WESTMINSTER BOY.]
In 1711, three years before Queen Anne's death, a young Westminster
Scholar, Carteret by name, aged nineteen, was buried in the North Aisle
of the Choir, "with the chiefs of his house." This is, I think, the only
instance of a Westminster boy being buried in the Abbey. And young
Carteret, the Westminster Scholar, leads me to an institution at
Westminster which I have too long neglected. I mean Westminster School.
From the earliest days of the Abbey, from Edith and Edward the
Confessor's time, a school for the training of the novices was attached
to Westminster as to other great monasteries. When the constitution of
the Abbey was changed by the dissolution of the monasteries in 1539-40,
Henry the Eighth founded a school in connection with the reformed Abbey.
But the school was refounded and enlarged by Queen Elizabeth in the year
of the Armada, and to her we owe its prosperity and fame. The great
tables of chestnut wood in the black-beamed College Dining Hall, are
said by tradition to have been given by the queen from the wrecks of the
Spanish Armada. From this time forth Westminster School took its place
among the most famous public schools in England. The names of many of
the greatest of England's worthies are inscribed on the walls of the old
schoolroom. In Elizabeth's reign the famous Camden was its head master.
And a few years later we find young George Herbert being commended to
the Dean for Westminster School, where "the beauties of his pretty
behavior and wit shined and became so eminent and lovely in this his
tender age, that he seemed marked out for piety and to have the care of
heaven, and of a particular good angel to guard and guide him."[119]
Westminster School was always loyal, and during the Protectorate the
boys were ardent partisans of the king, whose scholars they said they
were and would always remain. "It will never be well with the nation
until Westminster School is suppressed," said the Puritan Dean of Christ
Church, John Owen.
However, the "King's School" remained vehemently loyal in spite of all
the efforts of the Presbyterian and Independent preachers in the Abbey;
and it was not suppressed.
In Queen Anne's reign the School buildings took their present form. The
old Dormitory, which had been in the Middle Ages the Granary of the
Convent, stood on the west side of Dean's Yard.
"The wear-and-tear of four centuries, which included the
rough usage of many generations of schoolboys, had rendered
this venerable building quite unfit for its purposes. The
gaping roof and broken windows, which freely admitted the
rain and snow, wind and sun; the beams, cracked and hung
with cobwebs; the cavernous walls, with many a gash
inflicted by youthful Dukes and Earls in their boyish days;
the chairs, scorched by many a fire, and engraven deep with
many a famous name--provoked alternately the affection and
derision of Westminster students."[120]
So the Dormitory was doomed, and was re-built by Lord Burlington after
designs by Sir Christopher Wren, in the College Garden--a lovely space
of cool green beyond the Little Cloisters--where it stands to this day.
The school of Westminster has been always intimately connected with the
Abbey Church, since the days when the abbot sat on one side of the Great
Cloisters with his monks, and the master of the novices on the other
with his disciples. And quaint customs still survive from early days in
which the Chapter and the Scholars take part more or less.
Across the Great School runs the famous Bar, over which it is the duty
of the college cook to toss a pancake on Shrove Tuesday "to be scrambled
for by the boys and presented to the Dean." Once a year the Dean and
Chapter "receive in the Hall the former Westminster Scholars, and hear
the recitation of the Epigrams, which have contributed for so many years
their lively comments on the events of each passing generation,"[121] a
relic of the old custom by which the Dean and Prebendaries dined in the
College Hall--the ancient Refectory--with all the School. Every Sunday
and Saint's day during the school year, the Westminster Scholars troop
into the Choir in their white surplices in front of the Abbey body, and
take the seats which have been theirs by right since the coronation of
James the Second. And in modern days their shouts from those seats have
testified the assent of the people of England to the sovereign's
election in the Coronation Service.
And now from the shouts of the young, vigorous, active boys of
Westminster, let us turn once more to the Abbey. In its still dim
aisles, under the vaulted, misty roof, let us bid a tender and loving
farewell to its children--the Holy Innocents who have "gone
before"--whose sweet memories live in the minds of men; whose souls are
safe in God's good keeping; and whose ashes rest in England's Pantheon.
FOOTNOTES:
[109] Strickland. "Lives of the Queens of England." Vol. VII. p. 237.
[110] "Memoirs of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester." By Jenkin
Lewis. p. 7.
[111] "Memoirs of Prince William Henry, Duke of Gloucester." By Jenkin
Lewis. p. 8.
[112] Memoirs. Jenkin Lewis. p. 8.
[113] Memoir. Jenkin Lewis. p. 16.
[114] "Impartial History of Queen Anne's Reign." Bishop White Kennett.
p. 39.
[115] Jenkin Lewis.
[116] Memoir. Jenkin Lewis. p. 100.
[117] Bishop White Kennet. "Impartial History of Queen Anne's Reign." p.
39.
[118] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey." Dean Stanley, p. 196.
[119] Walton's Life. Vol. II. p. 24.
[120] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey. Dean Stanley." p. 536
[121] "Memorials of Westminster Abbey." Dean Stanley, p. 481.
GLOSSARY.
=Aisle=, the lateral divisions of a church, on each side of the nave.
From Aile--a wing. p. 99.
=Almonry=, a room where alms were distributed. In Abbeys generally a
stone building near the church. p. 99.
=Ambulatory=, a place to walk in. At Westminster the passage round the
outside of the Chapel of St. Edward. p. 26.
=Arcade=, a series of arches, supported by columns, either open or
closed with masonry. Frequently used for the decoration of the walls of
churches, on the exterior and interior. p. 13.
=Baptistery=, the part of a church containing the font. p. 33.
=Boss=, an ornament placed at the intersection of the ribs in vaulted
roofs. p. 106.
=Breviary=, the book containing the daily service of the Roman Catholic
Church. p. 128.
=Buttress=, a projection from a wall to give extra strength and support.
The _flying buttress_, or _Arc-boutant_ is carried across by an arch
from one wall to another. p. 13.
=Chalice=, the cup used at the celebration of the Eucharist. p. 28.
=Chantry=, a sepulchral chapel, in which masses for the dead were
chanted. p. 24.
=Choir=, the chancel of collegiate or cathedral churches. p. 32.
=Clerestory=, (old spelling clear-story) the upper story or row of
windows in a Gothic Church. p. 15.
=Cloisters=, covered galleries of communication between the different
parts of a monastic building or college. They generally have roofs of
groined stone. At Westminster they run round the two quadrangles of the
Great and Little Cloisters, and join them together by long stone
passages. p. 33.
=Crocket=, detached flowers or bunches of foliage, used to decorate the
angles of spires, pinnacles and gables. p. 115.
=Gable=, the upright triangular piece of masonry or woodwork at the end
of a roof.
=Gargoyle=, a projecting stone water-spout in the shape of some monster,
or the figure of a man from whose mouth the water runs. p. 13.
=Gothic= Architecture is chiefly distinguished by the _pointed arch_. It
is divided into three periods. The Early English, which prevailed during
the thirteenth century. The Decorated style, which prevailed during the
fourteenth century. And the Perpendicular, or style of the fifteenth
century. In France the latest Gothic style is called Flamboyant. p. 115.
=Mullions=, upright bars of stone between the lights of a window.
=Nave=, the principal or central division of a Gothic Church, extending
from the west end to the entrance of the Choir. p. 64.
=Oriel=, a window projecting from the face of the wall, frequently
resting on brackets.
=Pendant=, a sculptured ornament hanging from a Gothic roof. In the
latest or Perpendicular style the pendants are sculptured in the most
delicate manner and form the Keystones of the roof, taking the place of
the bosses. p. 106.
=Pier-Arches=, arches supported on piers (or pillars) between the centre
and side aisles. p. 110.
=Pyx=, a gold or silver circular vessel in which the Eucharistic wafer
was reserved before the Reformation for communicating the sick. The term
is also used sometimes, for a casket in which relics are kept; or for
boxes in which deeds are preserved. p. 22.
=Reredos=, the screen at the back of the Altar. p. 15.
=Rood=, the Holy Rood, or Crucifix. A cross with the figure of our
Saviour upon it. p. 52.
=Rose-Window=, a circular window, called also a Catherine-wheel, or a
Marigold window. p. 13.
=Sacrarium=, the part of a temple where the sacred things were
deposited. At Westminster, the wide space within the Altar rails. p. 15.
=String-course=, a projecting line of mouldings running horizontally
along the face of a building, frequently under the windows. p. 115.
=Transept=, the division of a church running north and south, forming
the arms of a cross. p. 32.
=Triforium=, a range of small arches or panels between the top of the
pier-arches and the bottom of the clerestory windows, usually opening
into a passage above the side aisles. p. 15.
=Troco=, an old game played with large wooden balls which were pushed
through a ring set up in the turf, by poles with a little iron cup at
the end.
=Tudor= or Perpendicular style. In the windows the mullions are
continued through the head of the window.
=Turret=, a small tower of great height in proportion to its diameter.
p. 115.
=Vaulting=, or Vaulted Roof. An arched roof, the stones or materials of
which are so placed as to support each other. p. 106.
Press of
Berwick & Smith,
Boston.
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favor of temperance from the standpoint of the highest scientific
authority, with an introduction by Mrs. Mary A. Livermore. 16mo, cloth,
$.60.
=But Half a Heart.= Seventh volume of the famous V. I. F. Series. By
Marie Oliver. 12mo, $1.25. A new volume by a charming writer whose vigor
and originality are winning for her a high place as a writer of choice
romance.
_D. LOTHROP & CO.'S NEW BOOKS._
=Wonder Stories Of Science.= Popular studies in elementary science, by
various authors, very fully illustrated. 16mo, cloth, $1.50.
=Pine Cones.= By Willis Boyd Allen. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, $1.00. A
story of adventure for girls and boys by an author who possesses the
secret of success as a writer for the young.
=What's Mine's Mine.= By Geo. MacDonald, author of "Annals of a Quiet
Neighborhood." 12mo, cloth, illustrated, $1.50. Published from the
original manuscript in advance of its appearance in England. A
fascinating fairy tale.
=Echoes Of Many Voices.= A collection of short sayings from various
sources, compiled by Elizabeth A. Thurston. Spare Minute Series. 12mo,
extra cloth, $1.00. As a compendium of wit and wisdom, sense and
sentiment, in their most terse and attractive expressions, this volume
is unrivalled.
=Tom Tits and Other Bits.= With other verses, by Amelia M. Starkweather.
Quarto, extra cloth, finely illustrated, $1.00. Pleasant stories and
sketches in verse, with illustrative pictures of unusual merit.
=Life of General U. S. Grant= by E. E. Brown. 12mo. $1.50. Containing a
sketch of his political services, with portrait and illustrations. Has
been long in preparation and is the careful and successful work of a
popular writer.
=Up Hill and Down Dale.= By Laura D. Nichols. One of the valuable and
fascinating natural history volumes, or "nature-books," similar to
"Overhead" and "Underfoot," which have proven so popular in home circles
and reading unions. 12mo, cloth, $1.75. Boards, $1.25.
=Many Colored Threads.= Selections from the writings of Goethe, edited
by Carrie Adelaide Cook. Those familiar with the writings of the great
German author, and those who know little of them, will be alike
interested in this collection of "best thoughts." Eloquence, pathos,
romance, philosophy--a wide range of sentiment and feeling,
characteristic of the life of Goethe--are revealed in these selections.
The book is a worthy companion to the six preceding volumes of the
widely-circulated "Spare Minute Series"--"Thoughts that Breathe," Dean
Stanley; "Cheerful Words" George MacDonald; "The Might of Right,"
Gladstone; "True Manliness," Thos. Hughes; "Living Truths," Charles
Kingsley; "Right to the Point," Doctor Cuyler. Extra cloth, $1.00.
Transcriber's notes
Inconsistencies in spelling of proper names retained.
Punctuation normalised.