The Days of My Life


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The Days of My Life


Book Description

An autobiography of Henry Rider Haggard, an English writer, largely of adventure fi ction. He was also involved in agricultural reform throughout the British Empire. His stories, situated at the lighter end of Victorian literature, continue to be popular and infl uential.




The Days of my Life


Book Description

Reprint of the original, first published in 1857.




The Days Of My Life An Autobiography


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"The Days of My Life" by Mrs. Oliphant is a fascinating autobiography that offers readers a unique glimpse into the existence and reports of the esteemed Victorian-technology creator. Mrs. Oliphant, whose complete call is Margaret Oliphant Wilson Oliphant, become a prolific Scottish novelist and ancient creator, regarded for her eager observations and insightful storytelling. In this autobiographical work, Mrs. Oliphant reflects at the various stages of her lifestyles, recounting personal anecdotes, challenges, and triumphs. The narrative unfolds with a wealthy tapestry of reminiscences, presenting readers with an intimate know-how of the author's adventure via the 19th century. The creator's exclusive voice shines via as she stocks her perspectives on literature, society, and the changing times. Readers are treated to a literary adventure that not simplest explores Mrs. Oliphant's personal life but also gives reflections on the cultural and ancient milieu of her generation. Through eloquent prose, Mrs. Oliphant invites readers to join her on a reflective exploration of the substantial moments that shaped her identification as a creator and as a person. The memoir serves as a testament to her resilience, creativity, and intellectual interest.










The Home Missionary


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No. 3 of each volume contains the annual report and minutes of the annual meeting.







Corresponding Powers


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Essays on aspects of English literature from Chaucer to Henry James, with special focus on the Romantics.




The Days of My Life: An Autobiography


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I WAS going home from the village, and it was an autumn evening, just after sunset, when every crop was cut and housed in our level country, and when the fields of stubble and browned grass had nothing on them, except here and there, a tree. They say our bare flats, in Cambridgeshire, are neither picturesque, nor beautiful. I cannot say for that—but I know no landscape has ever caught my eye like the long line of sunburnt, wiry grass, and the great, wide arch above, with all its shades of beautiful color. There were no hedgerows to skirt the path on which I was, and I saw nothing between me and the sky, save a solitary figure stalking along the highway, and in the other direction the clump of trees which surrounded Cottiswoode; the sky, in the west, was still full of the colors of the sunset, and from the horizon it rose upward in a multitude of tints and shades, the orange and red melting into a rosy flush which contrasted for a while, and then fell into the sweet, calm, peaceful tone of the full blue. In the time of the year, and the look of the night, there was alike that indescribable composure and satisfaction which are in the sunny evenings after harvest; the work was done, the day was fading, everything was going home; the rooks sailed over the sky, and the laborer trudged across the moor. Labor was over, and provision made, and the evening and the night, peace and refreshment, and rest were coming for every man. I do not suppose I noticed this at the time, but I have the strongest impression of it all in my remembrance now. And I was passing along, as I always did, quickly and, perhaps, with a firmer and a steadier step than was usual to girls of my years, swinging in my hand a bit of briony, which, for the sake of its beautiful berries, I was carrying home, but which stood a good chance of being destroyed before we got there—not taking leisure to look much about me, thinking of nothing particular, with a little air of the superior, the lady of the manor, in my independent carriage—a little pride of proprietorship in my firm footstep.