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Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, Chapter 20: Italy.—May to September, 1839.—Age, 28. (search)
s stay in Rome. He will be there in about a month, and wishes to study Italian literature and art. Ah, would that I could be there too! But I must be elsewhere. My next place is Venice, where I shall stay but two or three days or a week. If you do not write me I shall have nothing at Venice to read fresher than Paul Sarpi or Paruta. Nothing that I have seen alters my faith in Crawford. Let him go on, and his way is clear. Remember me most kindly to Mrs. Greene, and give one torment to Ponto, Greene's poodle dog. Sumner was quite fond of him, and enjoyed teasing him in his walks with Greene. and believe me, Ever most sincerely yours, Charles Sumner. P. S. Signor Gigli would like to know Crawford, and will be happy to write about his works in some Italian journal. I have promised him that you will take him to Crawford's studio. Greenough has read me some essays of his on art, which are superior to any thing in the English language after Reynolds, and in some respect
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, Chapter 21: Germany.—October, 1839, to March, 1840.—Age, 28-29. (search)
bull-dog breed, with a smooth skin, a snake for a tail, with the hissing mouth at the end, another snake wound round the neck, ears and head smooth, totally unlike Ponto; the whole body extended on the ground, fore-legs as well as hind-legs, one head fast asleep, the next on the ground, eyes half open, the next raised and gaping. The last number I am told contains a very complimentary article on Hyperion, written by Samuel Ward. January 4. A happy New Year to you and Mrs. Greene, and Ponto. May your plans thrive. I wish you could give up article-writing and the thought of making translations, and apply yourself entirely to your Opus Maximum. Ranke, ordered the Orpheus? I hope you have knocked away those books on which I stand. Reference to books carved under his bust. Remember me to Mrs. Greene, la petitePonto, Pasquali, A servant of Mr. Greene. and all. Ever affectionately yours, Charles Sumner. P. S. Have you received my letter from Vienna? Always acknowle
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 2, January 4. (search)
January 4. A happy New Year to you and Mrs. Greene, and Ponto. May your plans thrive. I wish you could give up article-writing and the thought of making translations, and apply yourself entirely to your Opus Maximum. Ranke, the historian of the Popes, I know. He is an ardent, lively, indefatigable person. He once obtained permission to search the manuscripts of the Vatican. Mai Angelo Mai, 1782-1854; discoverer of Cicero de Republica and other palimpsests, and at one time Librarian led me with so many throbs; down to the bottom of the well I must throw the magic rod. Tell Crawford to write me. I rely much for my future happiness upon my friends in Europe. Don't let me lose the vision of Rome and of art! Who has ordered the Orpheus? I hope you have knocked away those books on which I stand. Reference to books carved under his bust. Remember me to Mrs. Greene, la petitePonto, Pasquali, A servant of Mr. Greene. and all. Ever affectionately yours, Charles Sumner.
wn cross and exacting. The bright morning sunlight sometimes made the little girl forget to be sorrowful, and when her Ponto came frisking around her, she gladly joined him in a wild romp. Immediately Maum Winnie would appear, the very picture oe scene was very desolate,—the smoking ruins, the deserted cabin, a cloudy sky. Soon the child remembered her playfellow, Ponto, and began to call him. A doleful whine answered her, seeming to proceed from under one of the negro cabins. Nelly stooped to look, but could only see two glowing eyes, and hear the knocking of the dog's tail upon the ground. Ponto had been so badly frightened that no coaxing or ordering would induce him to come out. So his little mistress walked angrily away, and, er than all, she discovered a fine Newfoundland puppy and a litter of pretty white kittens to console her for the loss of Ponto. One day, when they had been at grandmamma's only a fortnight, Nelly saw a neighboring farmer drive up to the front ga
write,—by the coat that he slept in at Shiloh. At Chamounix a St. Bernard dog was presented to him, only six weeks old, but he could not carry the creature with him around the world and ordered it sent to my house in London. There two months later the noble brute arrived. It has been one of my most constant companions since; it crossed the ocean with me, and even went to Cuba, far enough from its native snows; and more than once, as friend after friend proved false, the fond fidelity of Ponto has recalled the bitter words of De Stael: The more I see of men, the better I appreciate dogs. Chamounix was hung with flags for the ex-President, and Mt. Blanc was illuminated. At night away up at the chalet where the climbers rest we saw a light gleaming over the snows which told that the Swiss mountaineers greeted the American democrat. We descended, as I said, by the Tete Noire, and all through the great mountain gorge the plain, unsentimental soldier was fully alive to the majes
Southern Historical Society Papers, Volume 25. (ed. Reverend J. William Jones), chapter 1.43 (search)
to invite him, but he couldn't go cat. It was suggested that as he was so squearmish about cat, maybe he would take some Ponto stew if offered. Ponto was a beautiful half-grown, well-fed, fat setter puppy, belonging to the Federal officer in chaPonto was a beautiful half-grown, well-fed, fat setter puppy, belonging to the Federal officer in charge of our guard. This young dog came to our quarters every day to have a frolic with the prisoners. Hawes agreed to accept invitation and to eat some of the dog supper when prepared, for the puppy was young, cleanly-washed, fat and healthy. Perkins thereupon agreed to catch and kill Ponto and prepare the feast. The next morning the dog came bounding into the prison yard as soon as the gate was opened, as was his habit, but most positively declined all of Perkins' advances, notwithstanding his friendship heretofore. As soon as he looked into Perkins' eyes doubt took possession of him. Ponto sniffed danger in the air, tucked tail and ran for the gate, and foreswore his prison friends ever after. His unreasoning suspicions preve
s are considerably annoyed, because we did not publish what we did not know. A dog belonging at one time to this office--Ponto by name — was a great dog in his day — so we have heard. But we never saw him in the field. All we know of him personalsposition. Every body was struck with his appearance at first sight, and not a few tried to steal him; but it was no go. Ponto had more sense than most Christians. He knew as well when he was well off, as the darkey who returned home a few weeks ago, after having made a campaign among the Yankees. Ponto could do a great many things. We do not know that he could set type, but we are not prepared to say that he could not. We remember the cautious reply of the Irishman who was asked if he could play on the fiddle. "I don't know; I never tried." Ponto never tried to set type. If he had, there is no knowing what might have happened. His genius, however, we rather think, lay in the direction of press-work. He was very fond of seeing the