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Laura E. Richards, Maud Howe, Florence Howe Hall, Julia Ward Howe, 1819-1910, in two volumes, with portraits and other illustrations: volume 1 12 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 6 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, The new world and the new book 6 0 Browse Search
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Cheerful Yesterdays 4 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays 4 0 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 2 0 Browse Search
HISTORY OF THE TOWN OF MEDFORD, Middlesex County, Massachusetts, FROM ITS FIRST SETTLEMENT, IN 1630, TO THE PRESENT TIME, 1855. (ed. Charles Brooks) 2 0 Browse Search
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life 2 0 Browse Search
Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall) 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall). You can also browse the collection for Aristophanes or search for Aristophanes in all documents.

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Lydia Maria Child, Letters of Lydia Maria Child (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier, Wendell Phillips, Harriet Winslow Sewall), To Mrs. Lucy Osgood. (search)
esuscitated words, whose only merit is their obsoleteness; no inverted sentences; no parentheses within parentheses; no clouds of language between the reader and the subject; no vague Orphic sayings, which may mean one thing, or another thing, or no thing. Which things I hate, as saith the apostle. I get so vexed with writers that send me to the dictionary a dozen times an hour to decipher my own language! It's the fashion nowadays. I suppose it was in ancient times also, for doth not Aristophanes say, I hate their peacock trains, their six-foot words, and swell of ostentation ? None of this in Buckle. He is a full, deep river, showing clearly every pebble over which it flows. But I don't agree with all his statements. He says that moral truths were exactly the same as they are now ages ago; that intellect is the sole cause of progress. Now I have considerable to say on that subject; but I want to hear what you have to say. Perhaps the term he uses is more at fault than the id