Notes of a Son and Brother

Notes of a Son and Brother

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Notes of a Son and Brother

Notes of a Son and Brother

Read FREE!

Excerpt

My point at any rate, such as it is, would be that even at the age I had reached in 1860 something of the happier time still lingered -- the time in which a given product of the press might have a situation and an aspect, a considerability, so to speak, a circumscription and an aura ; room to breathe and to show in, margin for the casting of its nets. The occasion at large was doubtless shrinking, one could note -- shrinking like the unlet "house" on a night of grandest opera, but "standing room only" was not yet everywhere the sign, and the fine deliberate thing could here and there find its seat. I really indeed might have held it the golden age of letters still, and of their fond sister leisure, with that quiet swim into our ken on its appointed day, during our Bonn summer, of the charming Once a Week of the prime, the prime of George Meredith and Charles Reade and J. E. Millais and George du Maurier; which our father, to bridge our separation from him, sent us, from Paris and elsewhere, in prompt and characteristic relief of our plotted, our determined strict servitude to German, and to the embrace of the sweet slim essence of which the . . .

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