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Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 1, No. 2, July, 1850.   By:

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Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 1, No. 2, July, 1850 is a remarkable collection of fiction, essays, and poetry that provides a fascinating snapshot of life in the mid-19th century. The stories transport readers to different worlds and time periods, from the bustling streets of New York City to the serene countryside of England.

The writing is top-notch, with each piece showcasing the talents of the various authors featured in the magazine. Whether it's a thrilling adventure story or a thought-provoking essay on social issues, there is something for every reader to enjoy in this collection.

One standout feature of Harper's New Monthly Magazine is its diverse range of topics and perspectives. The magazine covers everything from politics to literature, providing a well-rounded view of the world at that time. This diversity adds depth and richness to the reading experience, making it a truly engaging and enlightening publication.

Overall, Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 1, No. 2, July, 1850 is a must-read for anyone interested in 19th-century literature and culture. Its compelling stories and thought-provoking essays make it a timeless and valuable addition to any reader's collection.

First Page:

HARPER'S

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

No. II. JULY, 1850. VOL. I.

[From the London Eclectic Review.]

THOMAS DE QUINCEY.

When "Gilfillan's Gallery" first appeared, a copy of it was sent to an eminent lay divine, the first sentence of whose reply was, "You have sent me a list of shipwrecks ." It was but too true, for that "Gallery" contains the name of a Godwin, shipwrecked on a false system, and a Shelley, shipwrecked on an extravagant version of that false system and a Hazlitt, shipwrecked on no system at all and a Hall, driven upon the rugged reef of madness and a Foster, cast high and dry upon the dark shore of Misanthropy and an Edward Irving, inflated into sublime idiocy by the breath of popular favor, and in the subsidence of that breath, left to roll at the mercy of the waves, a mere log and lastly, a Coleridge and a De Quincy, stranded on the same poppy covered coast, the land of the "Lotos eaters," where it is never morning, nor midnight, nor full day, but always afternoon.

Wrecks all these are, but all splendid and instructive withal. And we propose now repairing to the shore, where the last great argosy, Thomas De Quincey, lies half bedded in mud to pick up whatever of noble and rare, of pure and permanent, we can find floating around. We would speak of De Quincey's history, of his faults, of his genius, of his works, and of his future place in the history of literature... Continue reading book >>


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