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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 104, June, 1866   By:

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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 104, June, 1866 showcases a diverse collection of thought-provoking essays, stories, and poems that capture the essence of the era. The contributors offer insightful commentary on pressing social issues of the time, providing readers with a glimpse into the cultural landscape of 19th-century America.

The prose is beautifully crafted, immersing readers in vivid imagery and poignant storytelling. From discussions on politics and race to reflections on love and nature, the pieces within this volume are sure to resonate with a wide range of readers.

While some may find the language and style of writing to be a bit dated, there is no denying the timeless relevance of the themes explored in this collection. The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 17, No. 104, June, 1866 is a valuable historical document that offers a window into the past and sheds light on the complexities of society during this transformative period.

Overall, this volume is a must-read for history buffs, literature enthusiasts, and anyone interested in gaining a deeper understanding of the cultural and intellectual currents of mid-19th-century America. The diverse array of voices and perspectives presented in this collection make it a truly enriching and enlightening read.

First Page:


A Magazine of Literature, Science, Art, and Politics.


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by TICKNOR AND FIELDS, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.

Transcriber's Note: Minor typos have been corrected and footnotes moved to the end of the article. Contractions have been retained as they appear in each story.



"This is the seventy fifth pair! Pretty well for us in so short a time!" said the Colonel's wife.

"Yes, but we must give Aunt Marian the credit of a very large proportion; at least ten pairs have come from her."

"I have nothing to do but to knit; none to knit for at home but my cat," I replied, rather shortly, to the soft voice that had given me credit for such extraordinary industry. Afterwards I looked up at Percy Lunt, and tried to think of some pleasant thing to say to her; but in vain, the words wouldn't come. I did not like her, and that is the truth.

Thirty of us were assembled as usual, at our weekly "Soldiers' Aid Circle." We always met at the house of her father, Colonel Lunt, because its parlors were the largest in Barton, and because Mrs. Lunt invited us to come every week at three o'clock in the afternoon, and stay till nine, meanwhile giving us all tea... Continue reading book >>

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