Identifier: argosythe48wood (find matches)
Title: The Argosy
Year: 1865 (1860s)
Authors: Wood, Henry, Mrs., 1814-1887 Wood, Charles W. (Charles William), b. 1850?
Subjects:
Publisher: London (etc.) R. Bentley (etc.)
Contributing Library: Robarts - University of Toronto
Digitizing Sponsor: University of Toronto

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dame and knight of fame Watch from its carven wail. And there, three hundred years ago, A poet found a place.Made free to roam that noble home By its proud owners grace,And at a while, to catch a smile From its sweet ladys face. Twas not for him—the festal throng Where wit and beauty beam :Nor yet debate on nations fate. Nor field where rapiers gleam.He made no moan—he sat alone As if he did but dream ! It was three hundred years ago— The hall still stands to-day,And still there pass, through painted glass, The sunbeams at their play.Though fair and brave, and statesmen grave, Have faded from the way. Tis rather he, whom haughty hands Did lowly refuge spare.Who saves for Fame the old halls name. And theirs who feasted there.For songs he sung with golden tongue Still echo in its air! A poets dream as nought may seem To careless passers by :A poets heart must beat apart, (Because it beats so high!)But noble song Time cannot wrong, Nor true thoughts ever die ! Isabella Fyvie Mayo.
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THE ARGOSY. DECEMBER, i88g. THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH. BY DARLEY DALE, AUTHOR OF FAIR KATHERINE. 4- CHAPTER XXXIV. MRS. CANTER IS INSPIRED. IT will be remembered that our friend Mrs. Canter took charge ofthe Archdeacon in his fainting fit, and, when he was sufficientlyrecovered, drove back to the Rectory with him. She then sent forthe doctor, put the Archdeacon to bed and installed herself as hisnurse, with a mental resolution to the effect that she did not leavehis bedside till Miss Vera returned. As she sat watching him, sheracked her brains in trying to think where the diamonds could be. They are not at the bank, she thought, for Mr. Tempest toldme he had sent to inquire. Lawyer Jones has not them either, formadam is too cunning to trust such a slippery fellow with them: hewould make off with them before she had time to turn round, as sureas that postman Lane is the biggest fool in the country. No, theyare in this house, I am certain. I felt I was burning, as the childrensay when they

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