Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852Various
General
Graham's Magazine, Vol. XLI, No. 4, October 1852
Various
Literature -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals
GRAHAM’S MAGAZINE.
Vol. XLI. October, 1852. No. 4.
Table of Contents
Derwentwater
Sonnet:—To the Redbreast
Fanny Leigh
The Atmosphere and Its Currents
Influence of Place on Race
Song
Sonnet.—The Comet.
Fancies from a Garret
The Minister’s Wife
Fragment.—A Picture.
Glimpses of Western Travel
A Midnight Fantasy
Sporting Adventures in India
Sonnet.—Peace.
Something New About Byron
Zulma
The Autobiography of a Boarding-House
Ariadne: Or the Love Watch
The Game of the Month.
Wreck and Ruin
Le Petit Savoyard
Mabel Dacre
The Lucky Penny
Meditations on the Last Judgment
The Trial by Battle
“I Know Where the Fairies Are.”
Canadian Life
The Last Hour of Sappho
Nine O’clock
Virginia Dare
Review of New Books
Sips of Punch
Fashion Plate
Transcriber’s Notes can be found at the end of this eBook.
[Illustration: =THE PRIDE OF THE PARTERRE.=]
* * * * *
[Illustration: =THE FORGOTTEN WORD.=
Engraved expressly for Graham’s Magazine by Humphrys.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: =THE FLOWER-GIRL.=]
* * * * *
[Illustration: =DERWENTWATER.=]
=DERWENTWATER.=
[The sad story of the Earl of Derwentwater, executed in 1716 for
participation in the rebellion of the previous year, is well known. The
beautiful lake from which he derives his title is surrounded by some of
the grandest scenery in England. Few persons will need to be reminded of
the beauty of the small cataract of Ladore. The memory of the
misfortunes of Lord Derwentwater, and of the beauty of his disconsolate
countess, is is still preserved in the traditions of the neighbourhood.]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
Sweet lake of the moun-tains how happy was I,
When life’s sunny morn had no cloud on its sky,
And I roam’d with my love on thy beautiful shore,
To hear the deep music that gush’d from Ladore!
We sail’d on thy waters rejoicing, alone,
Or trod thy green islands, and call’d them our own,
And built, ’mid the hills that encircle thy breast
A bower and a home in the wilds of the West.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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