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Browsing named entities in a specific section of James Parton, Horace Greeley, T. W. Higginson, J. S. C. Abbott, E. M. Hoppin, William Winter, Theodore Tilton, Fanny Fern, Grace Greenwood, Mrs. E. C. Stanton, Women of the age; being natives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present gentlemen. Search the whole document.

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Onondaga (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
sh interest in nature; for ceaseless mental fecundity, that finds no bottom to its cruse of oil, and for a toughness of intellectual fibre that fits her for a life of perpetual mental activity. There was not a gayer or more active girl in Onondaga County than Sara Clarke. The bright Alfarata was not fonder of wild roving. No young gipsy ever took more naturally to the fields. She loved the forests, the open pastures, the strawberry-lots, and the spicy knolls, where the scarlet leaves of ome recent graduates of Oberlin and Vassar; but perhaps she was none the worse for that. Indeed, austere, pale-faced Science would have chilled the blood of this free, bounding, elastic, glorious girl. Meantime, Dr. Clarke had removed from Onondaga County to New Brighton, in Western Pennsylvania. This village is nestled between the hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its bright waters for a long journey to the fa
Alleghany Mountains (United States) (search for this): chapter 8
tic, glorious girl. Meantime, Dr. Clarke had removed from Onondaga County to New Brighton, in Western Pennsylvania. This village is nestled between the hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its bright waters for a long journey to the far-off Southern Gulf. Not long after she went home, in 1845 and 1846, the literary world experienced a sensation. A new writer was abroad. A fresh pen was moving along the pages oear in the writings of Grace Greenwood three phases of development, three epochs of a literary career. The first lasted from the days of the boarding-school till marriage,--from the first merry chit-chat and fragrant Greenwood Leaves beyond the Alleghanies, to the full-rounded, mellow, golden prime, as displayed in the letters from Europe. Then follows a decade, during which story-writing for children has principally occupied her pen. With the war commences the third period,--years vexed with
St. Peter (Minnesota, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
to me one of the loveliest places on earth. O pride and darling of this delicious shore,--like a young festive queen, rose-crowned, sitting in the shade of oranges and myrtles, watched over with visible tenderness by the olive-clad hills, gently caressed and sung to by the capricious sea,--bright, balmy, bewitching Sorrento, adieu! But the finest piece of writing in the volume is a bravura on the Roman Catholic Religion. It occurs in a long and splendid description of High Mass, at St. Peter's on Christmas morning:-- To my eyes, the beauty and gorgeousness of the scene grew most fitting and holy; with the incense floating to me from the altar, I seemed to breathe in a subtle, subduing spirit; and to that music my heart hushed itself in my breast, my very pulses grew still, and my brain swam in a new, half-sensuous, half-spiritual emotion. For a moment I believe I understood the faith of the Roman Catholic,--for a moment I seemed to taste the ecstasy of the mystic, to bur
Pennsylvania (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
bout her education. When she left school in 1843, at the age of nineteen, she knew rather more Italian and less algebra, more of English and French history, and less of differential and integral calculus, than some recent graduates of Oberlin and Vassar; but perhaps she was none the worse for that. Indeed, austere, pale-faced Science would have chilled the blood of this free, bounding, elastic, glorious girl. Meantime, Dr. Clarke had removed from Onondaga County to New Brighton, in Western Pennsylvania. This village is nestled between the hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its bright waters for a long journey to the far-off Southern Gulf. Not long after she went home, in 1845 and 1846, the literary world experienced a sensation. A new writer was abroad. A fresh pen was moving along the pages of the Monthlies. Who might it be? Did Willis know? Could General Morris say? Whittierwas in the secret
Sorrento (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
m Naples on the 18th of April:-- We drove to Naples this morning over a road, which, for its varied scenery and picturesque views, seems to me only comparable with the Cornice leading to Genoa. It was with heartfelt reluctance that we left Sorrento, which must ever seem to me one of the loveliest places on earth. O pride and darling of this delicious shore,--like a young festive queen, rose-crowned, sitting in the shade of oranges and myrtles, watched over with visible tenderness by the olive-clad hills, gently caressed and sung to by the capricious sea,--bright, balmy, bewitching Sorrento, adieu! But the finest piece of writing in the volume is a bravura on the Roman Catholic Religion. It occurs in a long and splendid description of High Mass, at St. Peter's on Christmas morning:-- To my eyes, the beauty and gorgeousness of the scene grew most fitting and holy; with the incense floating to me from the altar, I seemed to breathe in a subtle, subduing spirit; and to th
Oberlin (Ohio, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
mountain rill, neither running between walls of chiselled stone, nor roofed with Roman arches, but wandering between clumps of willows, and meandering at its own sweet will through beds of daisies and fields of blooming clover. There was nothing remarkable about her education. When she left school in 1843, at the age of nineteen, she knew rather more Italian and less algebra, more of English and French history, and less of differential and integral calculus, than some recent graduates of Oberlin and Vassar; but perhaps she was none the worse for that. Indeed, austere, pale-faced Science would have chilled the blood of this free, bounding, elastic, glorious girl. Meantime, Dr. Clarke had removed from Onondaga County to New Brighton, in Western Pennsylvania. This village is nestled between the hills among which the young Ohio, fresh from the shaded springs and the stony brooks of the Alleghanies, gathers up its bright waters for a long journey to the far-off Southern Gulf. Not
Africa (Pennsylvania, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
he risk of scepticism, and to feel is to invite sentimentalism, it is charming to meet a girl who is not ashamed to laugh and cry, and sold and joke, and love and worship, as her grandmother did before her. But this is not a review of Grace Greenwood's writings. Litera scripta manet. Those who wish to see the cream of our magazine writings from 1845 to 1852., will find it in Greenwood leaves, first and second series. About this time, her Poems were published. To say that they are beautifful falsehood, fair and fatal enchantress, sovereign sorceress of the world I the end is not yet, and the day may not be far distant when thou shalt lay the asp to thine own bosom, and die. Since her marriage to Leander K. Lippincott, Grace Greenwood's pen has been employed chiefly in writings for the young. She edits the Little Pilgrim, a monthly devoted to the amusement, the instruction, and the well-being of little folks. Its best articles are her contributions. These have been collec
France (France) (search for this): chapter 8
lion readers by the piquant dash and spicy flavor of her style; a delightful mugazinist; a peetess, the melody and ring of whose stanzas should remind us of the most famous lyres of the world; a woman who, standing calm, graceful, and self-poised before great audiences, and thrilling them by noble and earnest words spoken in the deep gloom of national disaster, should call up rich memories of the Roman matron in her noblest form, or of the brightest figures that move on the storied page of - France,could he have foreseen all that as in the future of this village beauty, the traveller would have done more than turn for a second look. He would have halted, and talked with the young Corinne; he would have lingered to hear her speak of wild flowers, and birds' nests, of rills and rocks and cascades; he might have gone with her to her father's door, and caught a glimpse of silvered hair and a noble forehead, and he would have observed upon that face lineaments that have for two hundred yea
Washington, New York (New York, United States) (search for this): chapter 8
started the New York Tribune. Neither Clay, Calhoun, nor Webster had grown tired of scheming forty years for the presidency. That great thunder-cloud of civil war, that we have seen covering the whole heavens, was but a dark patch on the glowing sky of the South. In these times, and among these people, Grace Greenwood now began to live and move, and have a part, and win a glowing fame. For six or eight years her summer home was New Brighton. In winter she was in Philadelphia, in Washington, in New York, writing for White tier or for Willis and Morris, or for Neal's Gazette, or for Godey. She was the most copious and brilliant lady correspondent of that day, wielding the gracefullest quill, giving the brightest and most attractive column. It is impossible, without full extracts, to give the reader a full idea of these earlier writings of Grace Greenwood. They had the dew of youth, the purple light of love, the bloom of young desire. As well think of culling a handful of moist
Genoa (Italy) (search for this): chapter 8
aying from its brow. One could drink in strength, as from a fountain, from gazing on that attitude of pride and grace, so light, yet firm, and renew one's wasted vigor by the mere sight of that exulting and effortless action. What a gem of description we have here at the end of a letter, written from Naples on the 18th of April:-- We drove to Naples this morning over a road, which, for its varied scenery and picturesque views, seems to me only comparable with the Cornice leading to Genoa. It was with heartfelt reluctance that we left Sorrento, which must ever seem to me one of the loveliest places on earth. O pride and darling of this delicious shore,--like a young festive queen, rose-crowned, sitting in the shade of oranges and myrtles, watched over with visible tenderness by the olive-clad hills, gently caressed and sung to by the capricious sea,--bright, balmy, bewitching Sorrento, adieu! But the finest piece of writing in the volume is a bravura on the Roman Catho
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