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Browsing named entities in a specific section of The Daily Dispatch: November 15, 1862., [Electronic resource]. Search the whole document.
Found 30 total hits in 14 results.
Bologna (Italy) (search for this): article 9
Samuele Smith (search for this): article 9
Robert Wobinson (search for this): article 9
English (search for this): article 9
Robert Robinson (search for this): article 9
William Brown (search for this): article 9
Pegasus (search for this): article 9
Orphans C. Kerr (search for this): article 9
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.]
Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow.
There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna.
By the gods!
I really love these dumb friends of mine.
The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society.
But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood.
I have had a hard and thankless l
Marius (search for this): article 9
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.]
Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow.
There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna.
By the gods!
I really love these dumb friends of mine.
The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society.
But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood.
I have had a hard and thankless li
Early (search for this): article 9
Orphans C. Kerr's last.[from the N. Y. Sunday Mercury.]
Editor T. T.:--Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat on the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow.
There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna.
By the gods!
I really love these dumb friends of mine.
The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream — the church architecture of the future — and I must confess, my boy, that the gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society.
But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood.
I have had a hard and thankless l