The Castes of Edinburgh

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J. Menzies, 1859 - Edinburgh (Scotland) - 247 pages
 

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Page 153 - And hence one master passion in the breast. Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.
Page 200 - But to my mind, — though I am native here, And to the manner born, — it is a custom More honour'd in the breach than the observance.
Page 1 - Tis hard to say, if greater want of skill Appear in writing or in judging ill ; But, of the two, less dangerous is the offence To tire our patience, than mislead our sense. Some few in that, but numbers err in this ; Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss : A fool might once himself alone expose : Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
Page 187 - We worldly men, when we see friends and kinsmen Past hope sunk in their fortunes, lend no hand To lift them up, but rather set our feet Upon their heads, to press them to the bottom.
Page 94 - Atlantic wave? Is India free? and does she wear her plumed And jewelled turban with a smile of peace, Or do we grind her still? The grand debate, The popular harangue, the tart reply, The logic, and the wisdom, and the wit...
Page 11 - Never teach false morality. How exquisitely absurd to tell girls that beauty is of no value ; dress of no use ! Beauty is of value ; her whole prospects and happiness in life may often depend upon a new gown or a becoming bonnet, and if she has five grains of common sense she will find this out. The great thing is to teach her their just value, and that there must be something better under the bonnet than a pretty face for real happiness. But never sacrifice truth.
Page 21 - Sophy's air to different words, and give to its plaintive tones some little history of virtuous distress in humble life, such as might suit it. While attempting to effect this in my closet, I called to my little sister, now Lady...
Page 146 - In all thy humours, whether grave or mellow, Thou'rt such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow ; Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen about thee, There is no living with thee — or without thee.
Page 91 - This is the way physicians mend or end us, « Secundum artem : » but although we sneer In health — when ill, we call them to attend us, Without the least propensity to jeer...
Page 101 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.

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