This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1874 edition. Excerpt: ...to me. And with all our close work we had, as has been seen, our holidays; exciting visits to London, and others to Suffolk, little less delightful, and perhaps more salutary. And there were home holidays enjoyed after a different fashion, but with nearly as warm a zest. These were of Superstitions of ...
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This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1874 edition. Excerpt: ...to me. And with all our close work we had, as has been seen, our holidays; exciting visits to London, and others to Suffolk, little less delightful, and perhaps more salutary. And there were home holidays enjoyed after a different fashion, but with nearly as warm a zest. These were of Superstitions of the Heart. 157 two sorts: the "Parnassian Evening," as we ventured to call it for Winter; and the Gipsy Ramble in Summer. Domestic anniversaries were especially distinguished. For the winter celebration we surrounded the large dining table after tea--my father with his pencil, my mother with a book of some special interest, selected for the occasion, sitting at the head; and each of us, brothers and sisters, with drawing and needlework, as the case might be. Something inexpensive, but a little out of the common way, was provided for supper. Much, very much, did we enjoy these healthful home festivities. In summer there were several birthdays among us to afford happy excursions, generally ourselves only, but occasionally we assembled as many as twenty or thirty among our friends; took store for a pic-nic dinner under a hedge, in a green nook of the high woods, or on a country common, and finished with a refreshing tea at some roadside inn--the "White Hart" at East Bergholt, or a sequestered inn at Heckford Bridge; whither we rambled on the day Isaac came of age, our dear friend Luck Conder being at the time our guest. The day was passed as happily, perhaps, as if a host of tenants had been regaled in front of the ancestral Hall! There are not many conditions of life in which the affections, and the country, may not provide a sufficient feast for a red-letter day. Let those who, searching for pleasure, cannot find happiness...
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