Pennell Elizabeth Robins
Elizabeth Robins Pennell (February 21, 1855 - February 7, 1936) was an American author. She was the wife of American artist and fellow author Joseph Pennell, whom she married in June 1884[1]. He provided the illustrations for many of her books. She, with her husband, was a friend and correspondent of James Abbott McNeill Whistler. She wrote a lengthy biography of Whistler in collaboration with her husband, as well as biographical studies of Charles Godfrey Leland, who was her uncle[2], Mary Wollstonecraft, and, after his death, her husband. Other works include travelogues and personal memoirs. She was also a contributor of art and food criticism to periodicals including the Daily Chronicle and the Pall Mall Gazette[3]. Pennell often made her contributions under the nom de plume "N. N."[4]. She died in New York City in February of 1936[1].
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NightsRome,Venice,in the Aesthetic Eighties; London,Paris,in the Fighting Nineties
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NightsRome,Venice,in the Aesthetic Eighties; London,Paris,in the Fighting Nineties
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the whistler journal
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3/5
Originally published in 1921. This volume from the Cornell University Library's print collections was scanned on an APT BookScan and converted to JPG 2000 format by Kirtas Technologies. All titles scanned cover to cover and pages may include marks notations and other marginalia present in the original volume.
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the feasts of autolycus the diary of a greedy woman
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our house and the people in it
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This volume is produced from digital images created through the University of Michigan University Library's large-scale digitization efforts. The Library seeks to preserve the intellectual content of items in a manner that facilitates and promotes a variety of uses. The digital reformatting process results in an electronic version of the original text that can be both accessed online and used to create new print copies. The Library also understands and values the usefulness of print and makes reprints available to the public whenever possible. This book and hundreds of thousands of others can be found in the HathiTrust, an archive of the digitized collections of many great research libraries. For access to the University of Michigan Library's digital collections, please see http://www.lib.umich.edu and for information about the HathiTrust, please visit http://www.hathitrust.org
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our house and london out of our windows
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: prison for so accomplished a young woman as 'Enrietter! The day was delightful, the weather as beautiful as it can be in an English June, and the lunch gay. And afterwards there was the stroll along the "Backs," and, in the golden hour before sunset, afternoon tea in the garden, and I need not say that I missed my train. It was close upon ten o'clock when I turned the key in my front door. The flat was in darkness, except for the light that always shines into our front windows at night from the lamps on the Embankment and Charing Cross Bridge. There was no sign of 'Enrietter, and no sound of her until I had pulled my bell three or four times, and shouted for her in the manner I was taught as a child to consider the worst sort of form, not to say vulgar. But it had its effect. A faint voice answered from the ship's cabin upstairs, "Coming, mum." "Light the gas and the lamp," I said when heard her in the hall. The situation called for all the light I could get. From the methodical way she set about lighting the hall gas I knew that, at least, shecould not be reeling. Then she came in and lit the lamp, and I saw her. It was a thousand times worse than reeling, and my breath was taken away with the horror of it. For there she stood, in a flashy pink dressing-gown that was a disgrace in itself, her face ghastly as death, and all across her forehead, low down over one of the blue eyes, a great, wide, red gash. Before I had time to pull myself together 'Enrietter had told her story, so poor a story it showed how desperate now was her case. She had been quiet all morning no one had come she had got through the extra work I left with her. About three the milkman rang. A high wind was blowing. The door, when she opened it, banged in her face and cut her head open. And it...
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friendly counsel to christians who desire to do good to the souls of men
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charles godfrey leland a biography volume 2
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This Elibron Classics book is a facsimile reprint of a 1906 edition by Archibald Constable & Co. Ltd., Boston and New York.
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charles godfrey leland a biography volume 1
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This Elibron Classics book is a facsimile reprint of a 1906 edition by Archibald Constable & Co. Ltd.., Boston and New York.
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Nights
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If I wrote the story of my days during these last thirty years, it wouldbe the story of hard work. No doubt the work often looked to othersuncommonly like play, but it was work all the same.From the start it must have struck those who did not understand andwho were interested, or curious enough to spare a thought, that myprincipal occupation was to amuse myself. When I was young, inAmerica the "trip to Europe" was considered the crowning pleasure,or symbol of pleasure, within the possibility of hope for even thosewho were most given to pleasure. In Philadelphia it also stood formoney--not necessarily wealth, but the comfortably assured incomethat made existence behind Philadelphia's spacious red brick frontsthe average Philadelphian's right. And it was with this trip that J.and I began our life together. But misleading as was the impressionmade to all whom it did not concern, great satisfaction as it was tomy family, who saw in it the ease and comfort it represented to thePhiladelphian, we ourselves, with the best will in the world, couldimagine it no holiday for us, nor accept it as the symbol of thecorrect Philadelphia income. Our pleasure was in the fact of themany and definite commissions which obliged us to go to Europe toearn any sort of an income, correct or otherwise--commissionswithout which we could have faced neither the trip nor marriage. Ican remember that during the two or three weeks between our weddingand our sailing we were both kept busy, J. with drawings he had tofinish for the _Century_, and I with the last touches to an articlefor the _Atlantic_. And if the days on the boat gave us breathingspace, if not much work, except in preparation, was done, the reasonwas that the new commissions commenced only with our landing atLiverpool.From the moment of our arrival in England I see in memory my life by dayas one long vista of work. It is mostly a beautiful vista, the morebeautiful, I am ready to admit, because the work I owed the beauty toforced me to keep my eyes open and my wits about me. Under thecircumstances, I simply could not afford to let what small powers ofobservation I possess grow rusty, for, no matter what else might happen,I had to turn my journey into some sort of readable "copy" afterwards.If I know parts of Europe fairly well, I am indebted not to thefashionable need of taking waters, not to following the approved routesof travel, not to meeting my fellow countrymen in hotels as alike as twopeas no matter how different the capitals to which they belong, not toany fatuous preference of another country to my own, but to the workthat brought us to England and the Continent and has kept us there, withfresh commissions, ever since.
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Mary Wollstonecraft
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First published in 1884. --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.
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