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George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 5: (search)
pleasant, and its tone more genteel and sociable than at Gottingen. The professors who were there, perhaps, less learned, and more polished in their manners. Among them was a son of the Chancellor, formerly professor at Marburg, Gesenius, author of the Hebrew lexicon, Jakobs, etc. All were gay. The evening passed off lightly, except the time I was obliged to listen in polite silence to a sonata of Mozart twenty-four pages long; the supper was better than German suppers are wont to be. October 20.—I called this morning on Prof. Sprengel, and delivered him a letter from Dr. Muhlenburg of New York, with a small package of botanical specimens. He seems to be a man of quick feelings, and it was almost amusing to see how suddenly he passed from tears at receiving a letter from one he loved, who had so long been dead, to delight at receiving so many curious botanical specimens which he had never seen before . . . .When he had got partly through his delight at the specimens, he asked me
George Ticknor, Life, letters and journals of George Ticknor (ed. George Hillard), Chapter 7: (search)
ave been here 1 have passed in his coterie; for I find that when you once go to a party of this sort in Italy, it is expected you should continue your visits, if you like, as regularly as if you went to the opera,—which so many never miss. This, however, is no disagreeable circumstance to a stranger, and at his house—with Dandolo and several other of the patricians, and a few men of letters—I have passed my evenings as pleasantly as I did at Milan, with De Breme and Count Confalonieri. October 20.—This morning, like Portia's messenger, we passed With imagined speed Unto the tranect, to the common ferry Which trades to Venice; embarked on the lagoon, and looked back for the last time on Venice, which seems from the opposite shore to dance like a fairy creation on the undulations of the ocean. . . . . At the little village of Mira, on the Brenta, and about fourteen miles from Venice, we came to the villa now occupied by Lord Byron, and, still feeling curious to see him, I wen