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George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 2: (search)
f the height. In its centre, and facing the southeast, Mr. Jefferson has placed his house, which is of brick, two stories high in the wings, with a piazza in front of a receding centre. It is built, I suppose, in the French style. You enter, by a glass folding-door, into a hall which reminds you of Fielding's Man of the Mountain, by the strange furniture of its walls. On one side hang the head and horns of an elk, a deer, and a buffalo; another is covered with curiosities which Lewis and Clarke found in their wild and perilous expedition. On the third, among many other striking matters, was the head of a mammoth, or, as Cuvier calls it, a mastodon, containing the only os frontis, Mr. Jefferson tells me, that has yet been found. On the fourth side, in odd union with a fine painting of the Repentance of Saint Peter, is an Indian map on leather, of the southern waters of the Missouri, and an Indian representation of a bloody battle, handed down in their traditions. Through this h
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 3: (search)
me, to procure further facilities for my journey, if I should meet him on the Continent. June 29.—To-day, after some trouble, though none arising unnecessarily in the public offices, I have obtained my passport, and gone through the melancholy duty of calling on the friends who have been kind to me,—bade farewell to the loungers at Murray's literary Exchange, and called on Lord Byron, who told me that he yet hoped to meet me in America. He said he never envied any men more than Lewis and Clarke, when he read the account of their expedition. Mr. Ticknor left London on the 30th of June with the same delightful party of friends with whom he had crossed the ocean, and, crossing by Harwich, landed at Helvoetsluys. There, he says, We took the only two machines in the village,—a coach, which seemed to be without springs, and a wagon, which did not even pretend to have any,—to transport us to Rotterdam. Our road, the whole distance, went over a dyke, and some portions of it were on
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 13: (search)
uch talk carried on. The tone of this society was certainly stiff and pedantic, and a good deal of little jealousy was apparent, in the manner in which they spoke of persons with whom they or their college or their university had come into collision. . . . . I ought to add, that we passed the evening at Mr. Sedgwick's rooms, where there were only a few persons from several different colleges, among whom better manners and a finer tact in conversation prevailed. . . . . Herbert Marsh and Dr. Clarke were not in Cambridge. One person, however, I knew there, who was both a scholar and an accomplished gentleman, Dr. Davy, Master of Caius, to whom Lord Holland gave me letters, and from whom I received a great deal of kindness. I breakfasted with him alone, and enjoyed the variety of his conversation, always nourished with good learning, but never hardened with pedantry. . . . In the afternoon he carried me to dine with a club which originated in attachment to the fallen Stuarts, and was