'My novel' by Pisistratus Caxton; or, Varieties in English life

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Side 43 - ... infancy into woman were passing less gently over that smooth cheek and dreamy brow — that the world might be altering the nature as time the aspect. To her the hero of the Ideal remained immortal in bloom and youth. Bright illusion, common to us all, where Poetry once hallows the human form! Who ever thinks of Petrarch as the old time-worn man? Who does not see him as when he first gazed on Laura? " Ogni altra cosa ogni pensier va fore ; E sol ivi con voi rimansi Amore !
Side 41 - Belvidere were open ; and where they sat, both wife and daughter could see the Padrone leaning against the wall, with his arms folded, and his eyes fixed on the floor ; while Jackeymo, with one finger on his master's arm, was talking to him with visible earnestness. And the daughter from the window, and the wife from her work, directed tender, anxious eyes towards the still thoughtful form so dear to both.

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