of which the opening of the Cave forms a part had his sense of romance and poetry stirred by the sight. To what extent attempts were made to express this emotion in the form of poetry or verse is not known. Only one poem has been found—“The Outlaw,” by Charles H. Jones, of Cincinnati. It comprises about one thousand two hundred lines, published in 1835 in a neatly bound booklet called The Outlaw and Other Poems. In the October, 1835, issue of the Western Monthly Magazine, of Cincinnati, Judge James Hall devotes two pages to a eulogistic review of the book, encouraging the young poet in his work. A more enthusiastic reviewer might have called this an epic of Cave-in-Rock.
We wasted neither time nor words by the way, until we came in sight of Laggy, when we called a council of war.
mixed the mortar, loaded it in tubs, placed it on their heads, and carried it up two or three stories to men at work on the walls. The women who engage in this sort of labour wear little round mats on their heads, which support the burdens which they carry. Some of these women are still young, simply grown girls, fresh from the country, but the majority of them looked like old women.
I glanced at him uneasily, but he seemed perfectly serious. A twinkle, however, came into his eye, and he added slyly:
"Sinkin' spells. Doctors workin' with him," sententiously remarked the guard to the sergeant, pausing a moment in his regular tramp.
influence on posterity, of works written three hundred or even one hundred years ago.
Mr. James frowned.
Hatcher hesitated. "No," he said at last. "The male is responding well. Remember that when last this experiment was done every subject died; he is alive at least. But I am wondering. We can't quite communicate with the female—"
"My Lord, no, it isn't," Arthur agreed, after a moment's reflection; "though I don't think I'd thought of it like that before. Elizabeth always laughs as if she had been wound up inside and set
So the newly married pair sailed a fortnight later for India; and the unsophisticated daughter of an obscure country parson found herself launched without preparation into a world that to her was completely bewildering. From the stagnation
There are, however, doubtless others who are making the acquaintance of the two chums for the first time in these pages, and for their sake a brief explanation is necessary.
“Take me—take me Harry” ses she, clinging about his neck, “Let us go to-nite.”
Foreign Fellow of the Royal Society.
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