The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 262, July 7, 1827Various
General
The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 262, July 7, 1827
Various
Popular literature -- Great Britain -- Periodicals
long suffering, as it regards the term of credit, they may be called
upon to display. But independently of the additional expense into which
the Heir Presumptive is often seduced by the operation of these
temptations, and his anxiety to live in a style in some degree accordant
with his expectations, what is he not called upon to endure from the
caprices, old-fashioned notions, eccentricities, avarice, and obstinacy,
of the old tyrant to whom he thus consents to sell himself, and it may
be his family, body and soul, for an indefinite number of
years.--_National Tales_.
* * * * *
THE MONTHS.
JULY.
[Illustration]
The sultry noontide of July
Now bids us seek the forest's shade;
Or for the crystal streamlet sigh.
That flows in some sequestered glade.
B. BARTON.
* * * * *
Summer! glowing summer! This is the month of heat and sunshine, of
clear, fervid skies, dusty roads, and shrinking streams; when doors and
windows are thrown open, a cool gale is the most welcome of all
visiters, and every drop of rain "is worth its weight in gold." Such is
July commonly--such it was in 1825, and such, in a scarcely less degree,
in 1826; yet it is sometimes, on the contrary, a very showery month,
putting the hay-maker to the extremity of his patience, and the farmer
upon anxious thoughts for his ripening corn; generally speaking,
however, it is the heart of our summer. The landscape presents an air of
warmth, dryness, and maturity; the eye roams over brown pastures, corn
fields "already white to harvest," dark lines of intersecting
hedge-rows, and darker trees, lifting their heavy heads above them. The
foliage at this period is rich, full, and vigorous; there is a fine haze
cast over distant woods and bosky slopes, and every lofty and majestic
tree is filled with a soft shadowy twilight, which adds infinitely to
its beauty--a circumstance that has never been sufficiently noticed by
either poet or painter. Willows are now beautiful objects in the
landscape; they are like rich masses of arborescent silver, especially
if stirred by the breeze, their light and fluent forms contrasting
finely with the still and sombre aspect of the other trees.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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