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Charles E. Stowe, Harriet Beecher Stowe compiled from her letters and journals by her son Charles Edward Stowe 12 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2 6 0 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 4 0 Browse Search
John Conington, Commentary on Vergil's Aeneid, Volume 2 2 0 Browse Search
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard) 2 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 2 0 Browse Search
Mary Thacher Higginson, Thomas Wentworth Higginson: the story of his life 2 0 Browse Search
Wendell Phillips, Theodore C. Pease, Speeches, Lectures and Letters of Wendell Phillips: Volume 2 2 0 Browse Search
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches 2 0 Browse Search
Knight's Mechanical Encyclopedia (ed. Knight) 2 0 Browse Search
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Browsing named entities in Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley. You can also browse the collection for Vesuvius (Italy) or search for Vesuvius (Italy) in all documents.

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Henry Morton Stanley, Dorothy Stanley, The Autobiography of Sir Henry Morton Stanley, part 1.4, chapter 1.5 (search)
as to the cause of my coming; but, later, I was informed that my mother had hastened to her parents from London to be delivered of me; and that, after recovery, she had gone back to the Metropolis, leaving me in the charge of my grandfather, Moses Parry, who lived within the precincts of Denbigh Castle. Forty years of my life have passed, and this delving into my earliest years appears to me like an exhumation of Pompeii, buried for centuries under the scoriae, lava, and volcanic dust of Vesuvius. To the man of the Nineteenth Century, who paces the recovered streets and byeways of Pompeii, how strange seem the relics of the far distant life! Just so appear to me the little fatherless babe, and the orphaned child. Up to a certain time I could remember well every incident connected with those days; but now I look at the child with wonder, and can scarcely credit that out of that child I grew. How quaint that bib and tucker, that short frock, the fat legs, the dimpled cheeks, the