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THE PRIESTLEY RIOTS AT BIRMINGHAM (see p. 384)

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Two war pilots fought it out above the clouds!
ONE:
In the department of novel writing, no age had yet produced such a constellation as Fielding, Richardson, Sterne, and Smollett. Their works[147] are still read with admiration by all who have a relish for vivid and masterly delineations of life; their only drawback being, that they are all more or less stained with the grossness and licentiousness of the age. From these faults Samuel Richardson (b. 1689; d. 1761) is most free, and in his "Sir Charles Grandison" he hasshown himself ahead of his age in the wisdom and liberality of his ideas. He discountenanced duelling, and taught the soundest principles of honour and morality. The photographic minuteness of his style prevents the general reading of his works in the present day of abundant new literature. The principal novels of Henry Fielding (b. 1707; d. 1754), "Joseph Andrews," "Tom Jones," and "Amelia," abound in wit, vigour, and knowledge of human nature. He wrote also some plays, and edited several periodicals. His sister, Sarah, also wrote "David Simple," a novel, and translated Xenophon's "Memoirs of Socrates." Tobias Smollett (b. 1721; d. 1771) paints life in strong, bold, but somewhat coarse lines, full of vigour, but with even more grossness than Fielding uses. "Peregrine Pickle," "Count Fathom," "Roderick Random," "Humphrey Clinker," and "Sir Launcelot Greaves," if not now generally read, have been carefully studied and made use of by some of our modern novelists. Smollett, besides, wrote plays, satires, poems, and edited "The Briton," a weekly newspaper. Laurence Sterne (b. 1713; d. 1768) struck out a style of writing peculiar to himself, and which still defies all successful imitation. Notwithstanding attempts to represent his pathos as grimace, and his humour as tinsel, the felicity of touch in "Tristram Shandy," and the flashes of wit and feeling in his "Sentimental Journey," will, in spite of detractors, and of the occasional indecency of the author, always send readers to Sterne.GENERAL ELECTION OF 1784: THE HUSTINGS, COVENT GARDEN: THE WESTMINSTER DESERTER DRUMMED OUT OF THE REGIMENTDEFEAT OF SIR CECIL WRAY. (Reduced facsimile of the Caricature by T. Rowlandson.)In this Session the first step was taken in one of the greatest achievements of humanity which adorn the name of Britain. It was the grand preliminary towards annihilating the slave trade. The spirit of revolt against this odious trade had been gaining rapidly in the British mind. One of the earliest stabs given to it was by the pathetic story of Inkle and Yarico, in the "History of Barbadoes," by Lygon, which was taken up and amplified in the Spectator, and afterwards elaborated into an effective drama by Colman. Defoe, Dr. Johnson, Warburton in his "Divine Legation of Moses," and in his sermons so early as 1766, Voltaire, and other writers, had diffused a strong and sound feeling on the subject. It had been early attempted to establish the legal maxim, that a slave becomes a freed man in England; but in 1729 this had been positively pronounced against by Talbot and Yorke, then the highest legal authorities. But a more successful essay was made by Granville Sharp in 1772, in the case of James Somerset, and the principle was established, that the moment a slave set his foot on English ground he became free. In 1782 the Friends presented a petition to Parliament for the abolition of the slave trade. In 1785 Thomas Clarkson, then a student at the University of Cambridge, competed for and won the first prize for an essay on "The Slavery and Commerce in the Human Species," and this, which was undertaken as an academical exercise, led him to devote himself to the great work of the utter extinction of this evil. Mr. Ramsay, a clergyman of Kent, who had lived in St. Kitts, published a pamphlet on the same subject. The friends of Ramsay, Lady Middleton and Mrs. Bouverie, became zealous advocates of the cause, and finally Wilberforce resolved to make it the great object of his life. A society was now established in London, consisting only originally of twelve individuals, including the benevolent Mr. Thornton, and having Granville Sharp for its chairman. The members, however, were opulent merchants and bankers, and they set agents to work to collect information on the subject. The feeling rapidly spread; committees were formed in Manchester and other provincial towns for co-operation.There had been an afternoon in Washington when, on her road to some reception of a half-official kind, she had crossed the opening of an alleyway and had come upon three boys who were torturing a small, blind kitten; and almost without knowing what she did, because her maternal grandfather had done to the children of his enemies as the young civilized savages were doing to the kitten there, she stopped and watched them, not enjoying the sight perhaps, but not recoiling from it either. So intent had she been that she had not heard footsteps crossing the street toward her, and had not known that some one stopped beside her with an exclamation of wrath and dismay. She had turned suddenly and looked up, the pupils of her eyes contracted curiously as they had been when she had watched the tarantula-vinagrone fight years before.It struck him that he was coolly analytical while his wife was reading the love-letter (if that bald statement of fact could be called a love-letter) of another man, and telling him frankly that she returned the man's love. Why could not he have had love, he who had done so much for her? There was always the subconsciousness of that sacrifice. He had magnified it a little, too, and it is difficult to be altogether lovable when one's mental attitude is "see what a good boy am I." But he had never reflected upon that. He went on telling himself whatin all justice to himhe had never thrown up to her, that his life had been one long devotion to her; rather as a principle than as a personality, to be sure, but then And yet she loved the fellow whom she had not known twenty-four hours in alla private, a government scout, unnoticeably below her in station. In station, to be sure; but not in birth, after all. It was that again. He was always brought up face to face with her birth. He tried to reason it down, for the hundredth time. It was not her fault, and he had taken her knowingly, chancing that and the consequences of her not loving him. And these were the consequences: that she was sitting rigid before him, staring straight ahead with the pale eyes of suffering, and breathing through trembling lips.
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