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 Jtag Man \\\% m m\U 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE INSPIRED SINOER'S RECIPE BOOK. 
 
 BY A 
 
 NEWDIGATE PRIZEMAN. 
 
 Nuper ventosa isthaec et enormia loquacitas animos juvenum ad magna 
 surgentes veluti pestilenti quodam sidere afflavit. — Pktronius. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN, FROM TWRD ENGLISH EDITION, 
 ENLARGED. 
 
 BO ST, Tg- m , 
 
 A. WILLIAMS AND COl 
 283 Washington Street. 
 
 NEW YORK: A. BRENTANO, UNION SQUARE. 
 
 1879. 
 
Fresh, Neat, and Artistic. 
 
 KING'S UIDBOOI OF BOSTON. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 "HAE7ARD ATO ITS SURROUNDINGS." 
 
 King's Handbook of Boston, issued from the press Deceraboi 15, 
 1878, is the largest, most complete, and best printed book of its class 
 ever issued in Boston, Great care was exercised in its compilation ; 
 and especial pains were taken with its typography. It contains 
 about 275 pages of descriptions of the prominent and interesting 
 features of Boston. The illustrations comprise 125 steel, photo, 
 and wood engravings, heliotypes, and albertypes. 25 of the illus- 
 trations are full pages ix Size, and include views of the New 
 Post Office, when completed; the New English High and Latin 
 School, when completed; the Museum of Fine Arts, when com- 
 pleted; the Public Library, the City Hall, the City Hospital, the 
 Hotel Brunswick, the Boston Common, the Public Garden', the 
 Boston Water Works, the Club Houses, the Monuments, Statues, 
 and Fountains, the Great Fire of 1.S72, the Quarrel of Winthrop 
 and Dudley, the Arrest of Andres, the Boston Herald Building, 
 the Boston University School of Medicine, the New England .Mu- 
 tual Life Insurance Building, the South Boston Iron Works, the 
 Simmons Building, Macullar, Williams. & Parker's Establishment, 
 the Forest Hills Cemetery, the New "Old South" Church, the 
 New Trinity Church, and the Cathedral of the Holy The 
 
 smaller illustrations include many views that have not yet appeared 
 in books about Boston. 
 
 1 King's Handbook of Boston was designed for a standard work, 
 and the design has been carried out so faithfully in every partic- 
 ular that it will undoubtedly find a place in the libraries of thou- 
 sands of families, where a book of it > class has long been needed. 
 
 The book is neatly bound in cloth covers, is printed on heavy 
 tinted paper, and is published at the tow price of si.oo per copy. 
 
 A. WILLIAMS & CO., PUBLISHERS, BOSTON 
 
^gljlattfttt *wm|f^ 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE INSPIRED SINGER'S RECIPE BOOK. 
 
 BY A 
 
 NEWDIGATE PRIZEMAN. 
 
 •Ct 
 
 dU 
 
 I,' 
 
 99 
 
 Nuper ventosa isthaec et enormia loquacitas animos juvenum ad magna 
 surgentes veluti pestilenti quodam sidere afflavit. — Petronius. 
 
 FIRST AMERICAN, FROM THIRD ENGLISH EDITION, 
 ENLARGED. 
 
 
 >s? 
 
 381 
 
 'JTZeg^ZSV 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY? 
 
 283 Washington Street. 
 NEW YORK: A. BRENTANO, UNION SQUARE. 
 
 1879. 
 
♦ 
 
 > J 
 
 
 o 1/ 
 
 
 
 TN 7? i 
 
 ,-r 
 
 r 
 
 
 ••W*,, 
 
 Cambridge : 
 Press of John Wilson Sf Son. 
 
NOTE TO AMERICAN EDITION. 
 
 •+o— 
 
 TMs brochure (which is now generally attributed to 
 W. H. Mallock, the author of" The New Republic"), 
 is reprinted by its American publishers simply with a 
 view of supplying the demand which they have had for 
 it; and which demand, notwithstanding their facilities 
 as importers of English books, they have been unable to 
 satisfy. 
 
 It may be proper to state that it achieved in England 
 a certain amount of popularity long before the appear- 
 ance of " The New Republic." 
 
 Boston, December, 1878. 
 
<p 
 
 o 
 
 
 
 n? 
 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 O have attempted in former times a 
 work of this description, would have 
 seemed, we cannot deny, to savor 
 either of presumption or of idiocy, or more 
 probably of both. And rightly. But we live 
 in times of progress. The mystery of yester- 
 day is the common-place of to-day ; the Bible, 
 which was Newton's oracle, is Professor Hux- 
 ley's jest-book ; and students at the Univer- 
 sity now lose a class for not being familiar 
 with opinions which but twenty years ago 
 they would have been expelled for dreaming 
 
o 
 
 
 
 v\ 
 
 
 ,0! 
 
 6 
 
 of. Everything is moving onward swiftly 
 and satisfactorily ; and if, when we have made 
 all faiths fail, we can only contrive to silence 
 the British Association, and so make all 
 knowledge vanish away, there will lack noth- 
 ing but the presence of a perfect charity to 
 turn the nineteenth century into a complete 
 kingdom of heaven. Amongst changes, then, 
 so great and so hopeful — amongst the dis- 
 coveries of the rights of women, the infalli- 
 bility of the Pope, and the physical basis of 
 life, it may well be doubted if the great 
 fathers of ancient song would find, if they 
 could come back to us, anything out of the 
 way or ludicrous in a recipe-book for concoct- 
 ing poetry. 
 
 Some, indeed, object that poetry is not 
 progressive. But on what grounds this as- 
 sertion is based, it is not possible to conjecture. 
 
Poetry is as much progressive as anything 
 else in these days of progress. Free-thought 
 itself shows scarcely more strikingly those 
 three great stages which mark advance and 
 movement. For poetry, like Free-thought, 
 was first a work of inspiration, secondly of 
 science, and lastly now of trick. At its first 
 stage it was open to only here and there a 
 genius ; at its next to all intelligent men ; 
 and at its third to all the human race. Thus, 
 just as there is no boy now, but can throw 
 stones at the windows which Bishop Colenso 
 has broken, so there is scarcely even a young 
 lady but can raise flowers from the seed stolen 
 out of Mr. Tennyson's garden. 
 
 And surely, whatever, in this its course of 
 change, poetry may have lost in quality, is 
 more than made up for by what it has gained 
 in quantity. For, in the first place, it is far 
 
K- 
 
 o 
 
 8 
 
 o 
 
 
 pleasanter to the tastes of a scientific genera- 
 tion, to understand how to make bad poetry 
 than to wonder at good; and secondly, as the 
 end of poetry is pleasure, that we should make 
 it each for ourselves is the very utmost that 
 we can desire, since it is a fact in which we 
 all agree, that nobody's verses can please a 
 man so much as his own. 
 
 *0! 
 
 '<* 
 
 
OF THE NATURE OF POETRY. 
 
 OETRY, as practised by the latest 
 masters, is the art of expressing 
 what is too foolish, too profane, or 
 too indecent to be expressed in any other way. 
 And thus, just as a consummate cook will 
 prepare a most delicate repast out of the most 
 poor materials, so will the modern poet concoct 
 us a most popular poem from the weakest 
 emotions, and the most tiresome platitudes. 
 The only difference is, that the cook would 
 prefer good materials if he could get them, 
 whilst the modern poet will take the bad from 
 choice. As far, however, as the nature of 
 materials goes, those which the two artists 
 work with are the same — viz., animals, vege- 
 
V* 
 
 \ 
 
 X 
 
 10 
 
 tables, and spirits. It was the practice of 
 Shakespeare and other earlier masters to make 
 use of all these together, mixing them in vari- 
 ous proportions. But the moderns have found 
 that it is better and far easier to employ each 
 separately. Thus Mr. Swinburne uses very 
 little else but animal matter in the composi- 
 tion of his dishes, which, it must be confessed, 
 are somewhat unwholesome in consequence ; 
 whilst the late Mr. Wordsworth, on the con- 
 trary, confined himself almost exclusively to 
 the confection -of primrose pudding and flint 
 soup, flavored with the lesser celandine, and 
 only now and then a beggar-boy boiled down 
 in it to give it a color. The robins and 
 drowned lambs which he was wont to use, 
 when an additional piquancy was needed, 
 were employed so sparingly that they did not 
 destroy in the least the general vegetable tone 
 
 
11 
 
 of his productions ; and these form in conse- 
 quence an unimpeachable Lenten diet. It is 
 difficult to know what to say of Mr. Tennyson, 
 as the milk and water of which his books are 
 composed chiefly, make it almost impossible 
 to discover what was the original nature of 
 the materials he has boiled down in it. Mr. 
 Shelley, too, is perhaps somewhat embarrass- 
 ing to classify ; as, though spirits are what he 
 affected most, he made use of a large amount 
 of vegetable matter also. We shall be, prob- 
 ably, not far wrong in describing his material 
 as a kind of methyllated spirits, or pure psy- 
 chic alcohol, strongly tinctured with the barks 
 of trees, and rendered below proof by a quan- 
 tity of sea-water. In this division of the 
 poets, however, into animalists, spiritualists, 
 and vegetarians, we must not be discouraged 
 by any such difficulties as these ; but must 
 
12 
 
 bear in mind that, in whatever manner we may 
 neatly classify anything, the exceptions and 
 special cases will always far outnumber those 
 to which our rule applies. 
 
 But in fact, at present, mere theory may be 
 set entirely aside ; for although in case of 
 action, the making and adhering to a theory 
 may be the surest guide to inconsistency and 
 absurdity, in poetry these results can be ob- 
 tained without such aid. 
 
 The following recipes, compiled from a 
 careful analysis of the best authors, will be 
 found, we trust, efficient guides for the com- 
 position of genuine poems. But the t}TO must 
 bear always in mind that there is no royal 
 road to anything, and that not even the most 
 explicit directions will make a poet all at 
 once of even the most fatuous, the most sen- 
 timental, or the most profane. 
 
13 
 
 ■ 
 
 RECIPES. 
 
 | HE following are arranged somewhat 
 in the order in which the student is 
 recommended to begin his efforts. 
 About the more elaborate ones, which come 
 later, he may use his own discretion as to which 
 he will try first ; but he must previously have 
 had some training in the simpler compositions, 
 with which we deal before all others. These 
 form, as it were, a kind of palaestra of folly, 
 a very short training in which will suffice to 
 break down that stiffness and self-respect in 
 the soul, which is so incompatible with mod- 
 

 14 
 
 ern poetry. Taking, therefore, the silliest and 
 commonest of all kinds of verse, and the one 
 whose sentiments come most readily to hand 
 in vulgar minds, we begin with directions, 
 
 HOW TO MAKE AN ORDINARY LOVE POEM. 
 
 v 
 
 Take two large and tender human hearts, 
 which match one another perfectly. Arrange 
 these close together, but preserve them from 
 actual contact by placing between them some 
 cruel barrier. Wound them both in several 
 places, and insert through the openings thus 
 made a fine stuffing of wild yearnings, hopeless 
 tenderness, and a general admiration for stars. 
 Then completely cover up one heart with a 
 sufficient quantity of chill churchyard mould, 
 
15 
 
 which may be garnished, according to taste, 
 with dank waving weeds or tender violets : 
 and promptly break over it the other heart. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A PATHETIC MARINE POEM. 
 
 This kind of poem has the advantage of 
 being easily produced, yet being at the same 
 time pleasing, and not unwholesome. As, too, 
 it admits of no variety, the chance of going 
 wrong in it is very small. Take one midnight 
 storm, and one fisherman's family, which, if 
 the poem is to be a real success, should be as 
 large and as hungry as possible, and must 
 contain at least one innocent infant. Place 
 this last in a cradle, with the mother singing 
 over it, being careful that the babe be dream- 
 ing of angels, or else smiling sweetly. Stir 
 
16 
 
 the father well up in the storm until he disap- 
 pears. Then get ready immediately a quan- 
 tity of cruel crawling foam, in which serve 
 up the father directly on his reappearance, 
 which is sure to take place in an hour or 
 two, in the dull red morning. This done, a 
 charming saline effervescence will take place 
 amongst the remainder of the family. Pile 
 up the agony to suit the palate, and the poem 
 will be ready for perusal. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE AN EPIC POEM LIKE 
 MR. TENNYSON. 
 
 (The following, apart from its intrinsic utility, forms in 
 itself a great literary curiosity, being the original directions 
 from which the Poet Laureate composed the Arthurian Idyls.) 
 
 To compose an epic, some writers instruct 
 us first to catch our hero. As, however, Mr. 
 Carlyle is the only person on record who has 
 
17 
 
 ever performed this feat, it will be best for the 
 rest of mankind to be content with the near- 
 est approach to a hero available ; namely, a 
 prig. These animals are very plentiful, and 
 easy to catch, as they delight in being ran 
 after. There are, however, many different 
 kinds, not all equally fit for the present pur- 
 pose, and amongst which it is very necessary 
 to select the right one. Thus, for instance, 
 there is the scientific and atheistical prig, who 
 may be frequently observed eluding notice 
 between the covers of the " Westminster Re- 
 view;" the Anglican prig, who is often 
 caught exposing himself in the " Guardian ; " 
 the Ultramontane prig, who abounds in the 
 " Dublin Review ; " the scholarly prig, who 
 twitters among the leaves of the " Academy ; ' : 
 and the Evangelical prig, who converts the 
 heathen, and drinks port wine. None of 
 
 2 
 

 "V* 
 
 18 
 
 these, and least of all the last, will serve for 
 the central figure, in the present class of 
 poem. The only one entirely suitable is the 
 blameless variety. Take, then, one blame- 
 less prig. Set him upright in the middle of 
 a round table, and place beside him a beauti- 
 ful wife, who cannot abide prigs. Add to 
 these one marred goodly man ; and tie the 
 three together in a bundle with a link or two 
 of Destiny. Proceed, next, to surround this 
 group with a large number of men and wo- 
 men of the nineteenth century, in fancy-ball 
 costume, flavored with a great many very 
 possible vices, and a few impossible virtues. 
 Stir these briskly about for two volumes, to 
 the great annoyance of the blameless prig, 
 who is, however, to be kept carefully below 
 swearing-point, for the whole time. If he 
 once boils over into any natural action or 
 
19 
 
 exclamation, he is forthwith worthless, and 
 you must get another. Next break the wife's 
 reputation into small pieces ; and dust them 
 well over the blameless prig. Then take a 
 few vials of tribulation and wrath, and empty 
 these generally over the whole ingredients of 
 your poem : and, taking the sword of the 
 heathen, cut into small pieces the greater 
 part of your minor characters. Then wound 
 slightly the head of the blameless prig ; re- 
 move him suddenly from the table, and keep 
 in a cool barge for future use. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A POEM LIKE MR. MATTHEW 
 ARNOLD. 
 
 Take one soulful of involuntary unbelief, 
 which has been previously well flavored with 
 self-satisfied despair. Add to this one beauti- 
 

 ■v* 
 
 20 
 
 ful text of Scripture. Mix these well to- 
 gether ; and as soon as ebullition commences, 
 grate in finely a few regretful allusions to 
 the New Testament and the Lake of Tiberias, 
 one constellation of stars, half-a-dozen allu- 
 sions to the nineteenth century, one to Goethe, 
 one to Mont Blanc, or the Lake of Geneva ; 
 and one also, if possible, to some personal 
 bereavement. Flavor the whole with a mouth- 
 ful of "faiths " and " infinites," and a mixed 
 mouthful of " passions," " finites," and " }^earn- 
 ings." This class of poem is concluded, 
 usually, with some question, about which 
 we have to observe only that it shall be im- 
 possible to answer. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE AN IMITATION OF MR. BROWNING. 
 
 Take rather a coarse view of things in gen- 
 eral. In the midst of this place a man and a 
 
21 
 
 woman, her and her ankles, tastefully arranged 
 
 on a slice of Italy, or the country about Por- 
 
 nic. Cut an opening across the breast of 
 
 each, until the soul becomes visible, but be 
 
 very careful that -none of the body be lost 
 
 during the operation. Pour into each breast 
 
 as much as it will hold of the new strong wine 
 
 of love ; and, for fear they should take cold 
 
 by exposure, cover them quickly up with a 
 
 quantity of obscure classical quotations, a few 
 
 familiar allusions to an unknown period of 
 
 history, and a half-destroyed fresco by an 
 
 early master, varied every now and then with 
 
 - a reference to the fugues or toccatas of a 
 
 quite-forgotten composer. 
 
 If the poem be still intelligible, take a pen 
 
 and remove carefully all the necessary parti- 
 cles. 
 

 22 
 
 .HOW TO MAKE A MODERN PRE-RAPHAELITE POEM. 
 
 Take a packet of fine selected early Eng- 
 lish, containing no words but such as are 
 obsolete and unintelligible. Pour this into 
 about double the quantity of entirely new 
 English, which must have never been used 
 before, and which you must compose your- 
 self, fresh, as it is wanted. Mix these to- 
 gether thoroughly till they assume a color 
 quite different from any tongue that was ever 
 spoken, and the material will be ready for 
 use. 
 
 Determine the number of stanzas of which 
 your poem shall consist, and select a corre- 
 sponding number of the most archaic or most 
 peculiar words in your vocabulary, allotting 
 one of these to each stanza ; and pour in the 
 other words round them, until the entire 
 poem is filled in. 
 
 
23 
 
 This kind of composition is usually cast 
 in shapes. These, though not numerous — 
 amounting, in all, to something under a dozen 
 — it would take too long to describe minutely 
 
 here ; and a short visit to Mr. 's shop, in 
 
 King Street, where they are kept in stock, 
 would explain the whole of them. A favor- 
 ite one, however, is the following, which is of 
 very easy construction. Take three damozels, 
 dressed in straight night-gowns. Pull their 
 hairpins out, and let their hair tumble all 
 about their shoulders. A few stars may be 
 sprinkled into this with advantage. Place 
 an aureole about the head of each, and give 
 each a lily in her hand, about half the size of 
 herself. Bend their necks all different ways, 
 and set them in a row before a stone wall, 
 with an apple-tree between each, and some 
 large flowers at their feet. Trees and flowers 
 
24 
 
 of the right sort are very plentiful in church 
 windows. When you have arranged all these 
 objects rightly, take a cast of them in the 
 softest part of your brain, and pour in your 
 word-composition as above described. 
 
 This kind of poem is much improved by 
 what is called a burden. This consists of a 
 few jingling words, generally of an archaic 
 character, about which we have only to be 
 careful that they have no reference to the 
 subject of the poem they are to ornament. 
 They are inserted without variation between 
 the stanzas. 
 
 In conclusion, we would remark to begin- 
 ners that this sort of composition must be 
 attempted only in a perfectly vacant atmos- 
 phere ; so that no grains of common-sense 
 may injure the work whilst in progress. 
 
25 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A NARRATIVE POEM LIKE 
 MR. ROBERT MORRIS. 
 
 Take about sixty pages-full of the same 
 word-mixture as that described in the preced- 
 ing ; and dilute it with a double quantity of 
 mild modern Anglo-Saxon. Pour this com- 
 position into two vessels of equal size, and 
 into one of these empty a small mythological 
 story. If this does not put your readers to 
 sleep soon enough, add to it the rest of the 
 language in the remaining vessel. 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A SPASMODIC POEM LIKE 
 MR. ROBERT BUCHANAN". 
 
 This is a very troublesome kind of poem 
 to make, as it requires more effort and strain- 
 ing than any other. You are yourself also 
 one of the principal ingredients ; and it is 
 
26 
 
 •< > , 
 
 well, therefore, to warn you, before you use 
 yourself for this purpose, that you will be 
 good for nothing else after you have clone so. 
 The other ingredients, which, like those of a 
 quack medicine, are mostly gathered under 
 the moon, or in a planetary hour, must be 
 first prepared as follows. 
 
 For a poem of a hundred lines (enough to 
 satisfy one person) take ten verses-full of 
 star-dew, twenty-five verses-full of the tides 
 of night, fifteen of passion-pale proud women, 
 well idealized, five of starry ice-crystals, ten 
 of dank grass and night-shade, fifteen of 
 aching solitude, and twenty of frost-silvered 
 mountain peaks, bubbling runnels, and the 
 sea. Into these put the moon, with stars ad 
 libitum; and sprinkle the whole over with 
 broken panes of a Grub-street garret window. 
 This done, your next step is to prepare your- 
 
27 
 
 self. The simplest way is to proceed as 
 follows : 
 
 Take yourself, and make eyes at it in the 
 glass until you think it looks like Keats, or 
 the " Boy Chatterton." Then take an in- 
 finite yearning to be a poet, and a profound 
 conviction that you never can be one, and 
 try to stifle the latter. This you will not 
 be able to do. The aim of the endeavor is 
 to make the conviction restive. Then put 
 the two together into yourself : and the con- 
 viction will immediately begin to splutter, 
 and disturb you. This you will mistake for 
 the struggles of genius, and you will shortly 
 after be thrown into the most violent con- 
 vulsions. As soon as you feel these beginning, 
 jump into the middle of your other ingre- 
 dients ; your movements will before long 
 whip them up into an opaque froth, which 
 

 28 
 
 as soon as you are tired out and become 
 quiet, will settle, and leave your head pro- 
 truding from the centre. Sprinkle the whole 
 with imitation heart's-blood, and serve. 
 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A SATANIC POEM LIKE 
 THE LATE LORD BYRON. 
 
 ( This recipe is inserted for the benefit of those poets who 
 desire to attain what is called originality. This is only to be 
 got by following some model of a past generation, which has 
 ceased to be made use of by the public at large. We do not, 
 however, recommend this course, feeling sure that all writers in 
 the end will derive far more real satisfaction from producing 
 fashionable, than original verses ; which two things it is impossi- 
 ble to do at the same time.) 
 
 Take a couple of fine deadly sins ; and 
 let them hang before your eyes until they 
 become racy. Then take them down, dissect 
 them, and stew them for some time in a 
 solution of weak remorse ; after which they 
 are to be devilled with mock-despair. 
 
29 
 
 HOW TO MAKE A PATRIOTIC POEM LIKE 
 MR. SWINBURNE. 
 
 Take one blaspheming patriot, who has 
 been hung or buried for some time, together 
 with the .oppressed country belonging to him. 
 Soak these in a quantity of rotten sentiment, 
 till they are completely sodden ; and in the 
 mean while get ready an indefinite number 
 of Christian kings and priests. Kick these 
 till they are nearly dead ; add copiously 
 broken fragments of the Catholic church, 
 and mix all together. Place them in a heap 
 upon the oppressed country; season plenti- 
 fully with very coarse expressions ; and on 
 the top carefully arrange your patriot, gar- 
 nished with laurel or with parsley ; surround 
 with artificial hopes for the future, which are 
 never meant to be tasted. This kind of 
 poem is cooked in verbiage, flavored with 
 
g 
 
 
 
 Liberty, the taste of which is much height- 
 ened by the introduction of a few high gods, 
 and the game of Fortune. The amount of 
 verbiage which liberty is capable of flavoring, 
 is practically infinite. 
 
 
31 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 E regret to have to offer this work to 
 the public in its present incomplete 
 state, the whole of that part treat- 
 ing in detail of the most recent section of 
 modern English poetry, viz., the blasphemous 
 and the obscene, being completely wanting. 
 It was found necessary to issue this from an 
 eminent publishing firm in Holywell Street, 
 Strand, where, by an unforeseen casualty, 
 the entire first edition was seized by the 
 police, and is at present in the hands of the 
 Society for the Suppression of Vice. We 
 
32 
 
 incline, however, to trust that this loss will 
 have but little effect ; as indecency and pro- 
 fanity are things in which, even to the dull- 
 est, external instruction is a luxury, rather 
 than a necessity. Those of our readers, 
 who, either from sense, self-respect, or other 
 circumstances, are in need of a special train- 
 ing in these subjects, will find excellent pro- 
 fessors of them in any public-house, during 
 the late hours of the evening ; where the 
 whole sum and substance of the fieriest 
 school of modern poetry is delivered nightly ; 
 needing only a little dressing and flavoring 
 with artificial English to turn it into very 
 excellent verse. 
 
"Ail Artistic Gem." 
 
 Harvard and its Surroundings 
 
 By MOSES KIXG, 
 
 Of Harvard College, Cambridge, Mass. . 
 
 Copiously illustrated with excellent Heliotypes, Engravings, and 
 Etchings. Square 12mo. Crimson cloth, $1.50 ; paper, $1.00. 
 
 Mailed, postage paid, on receipt qf price. 
 
 This little book is almost indispensable to any library. The 
 subject-matter is so ingeniously arranged, so accurately collated, 
 and so complete in its way, that the book at once becomes a useful 
 reference book, guide book, and history of Harvard University and 
 its historical vicinity, which includes the many noted places of Old 
 Cambridge. There are nearly seventy illustrations, about forty of 
 which are heliotype-photographs, all numbered and arranged in 
 the order of the text and the route laid out on the key-plan. These 
 illustrations are of a high order, and make the book valuable as a 
 complete album or souvenir of Harvard University. The revision 
 of the text has been made by the officers in charge of the various 
 departments, and is reliable in every particular. The book is 
 printed on heavy tinted paper, and its typographical work is excel- 
 lent. 
 
 President Eliot says: "It is a very accurate, convenient, and 
 pretty little^ book." 
 
 llev. A. P. Peabody, D.D., says: "This is a book made with 
 great care, executed with good taste, arid containing a large amount 
 of valuable information." 
 
 Henry IV. Longfellow says : " This is an interesting and con- 
 venient little volume." 
 
 Olirer Wendell Holmes says: "I find your little book a very 
 satisfactory guide to the most interesting Cambridge localities, weil 
 written, well arranged, and exceedingly well illustrated. I must 
 not praise it as if I had carefully studied all its details; but I am 
 disposed to be something more than pleased to see so compact, so 
 well filled, so handsomely presented a manual for the use of the 
 stranger in the University city, — one, too, which the native of the 
 town will find to contain much that he has forgotten and not a 
 little which he has never known." 
 
 " A perfect gem, very artistically executed, and giving a great 
 deal of information in a very compact shape." — S. B. JSoyes, Libra- 
 rian Mercantile Library , Brooklyn. 
 
 "It is a gem of a book, neat, compact, and charmingly illus- 
 trated, rt is a model compilation in all respects." — W, F. Poole, 
 Librarian Public- Library, Chicago. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY A. WILLIAMS & 00., BOSTON. 
 
ENGLISH PUBLISHERS' DEPOT. 
 
 A. WILLIAMS & CO., 
 
 FOREIGN & AMERICAN BOOKSELLERS, 
 
 AND PERIODICAL DEALERS, 
 
 Have always on hand the best works in all classes of litera- 
 ture, including 
 
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