. American scenery. Mystory, as I was saying, is all about a glove. Gloves, youknow, are among the most romantic and suggestive thoughtsin the world. How the young heart beats at the sight of adainty glove, upon a fair girls gentle Oh 1 that I -were a glove upon that I might touch that cheek— Dont interrupt me. Scumble, with your pitiful verses—fair girls gentle hand. There is the hawking glove, with itsthousand delightful memories of the merry age of falconry;and, now we live over again the wondrous days of chivalry,as we pick up the gauntlet of the fearless knight. Think ofthose go
. American scenery. Mystory, as I was saying, is all about a glove. Gloves, youknow, are among the most romantic and suggestive thoughtsin the world. How the young heart beats at the sight of adainty glove, upon a fair girls gentle Oh 1 that I -were a glove upon that I might touch that cheek— Dont interrupt me. Scumble, with your pitiful verses—fair girls gentle hand. There is the hawking glove, with itsthousand delightful memories of the merry age of falconry;and, now we live over again the wondrous days of chivalry,as we pick up the gauntlet of the fearless knight. Think ofthose good old times, when a poor devil might legitimatelywin a sweet kiss, and a pair of gloves into the bargain, fromhis sleeping lady-love; when gloves had the magic gift of in-ducing fairy dreams; when the poetical ceremony was in vogue,of blessing the glove at the crowning of the French monarchs;and, when Englands kings, on the same occasions, with thecasting of a glove, gallantly challenged all the world to dis-. DIAMOND ISLE; OR, THE STRAY GLOVE. 223 pute their right to their thrones! From the cherothecse andmanicas of the Eomans, down to the present hour, gloves, likemodern sentimentalists, have had a history! Even yet, theromance lingers. Gloves are still the most ceremonious andpoetic part of our attire; still, as of old, favourite gifts at thebridal, and at the grave. Gloves We admit all that, interrupted Mr. Blueblack. Butto leave gloves in the abstract, and to come at once to theindividual, and particular glove of your story Ah, yes! My story of iiaiimnJr |sk; or, Clje ^txm iStobx. Some summers ago I had been long lost to the sight, ifnot to the memory dear, of my friends, in the beautiful soli-tudes of Horicon. I had mused away whole months, far re-moved from the great world, in my quiet studio at the littleinn at Bolton, now that fashionable resort, the Mohican a favourite haunt it well deserves to be—for it is thecentre of the most picturesque portion of
Size: 1214px × 2059px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorrichards, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850, bookyear1854
