The breach of promise, by the author of 'The jilt'.

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Side 292 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Side 235 - They were alone, but not alone as they Who shut in chambers think it loneliness; The silent ocean, and the starlight bay, The twilight glow, which momently grew less, The voiceless sands, and dropping caves, that lay Around them, made them to each other press, As if there were no life beneath the sky Save theirs, and that their life could never die.
Side 293 - Nor, in spite of his devotion to the viscountess, did he neglect to practise an adage in which, as versified by Moore, we are told that— When we are far from the lips that we love, We have but to make love to the lips we are near.
Side 210 - This was an action to recover compensation in damages for a breach of promise of marriage.
Side 243 - There's a library built on the brow of a hill, Or rather 'tis perched on the top of a rock ; Old novels the shelves of its reading-room fill ; Clocks, vases, etcetera, serve for its stock.

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