AGNES GRAHAM. A Novel.
BYFILIA.
Experience like a pale musician holds A dulcimer of patience in his hand. Whence harmonies we cannot understand, Of God's will in his worlds, the strain unfolds In sad perplexed minors! Deathly colds Fall on us while we hear and countermand Our sanguine hearts back from the fancy land With Nightingales in visionary worlds. We murmur "Where is any certain time Or measured music in such notes as these?" But angels, leaning from their golden seats, Are not so minded, their fine ear hath won The issue of completed cadences! And smiling down the stars, they whisper, "Sweet!" E. B. BROWNING.PHILADELPHIA: CLAXTON, REMSEN, AND HAFFELFINGER. NEW ORLEANS: J. A. GRESHAM.
1869.Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by CLAXTON, REMSEN, AND HAFFELFINGER, in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States in and for the Eastern District of the State of Pennsylvania. PHILADELPHIA: COLLINS, PRINTER, 705 JAYNE STREET.
TO
A WOMAN WHO HAS BEEN FOUND FAITHFUL IN ALL THE DUTIES OF TRUE
WOMANHOOD,
BOTH IN PROSPERITY AND IN ADVERSITY;
TO MRS. MARY JANE PRENTISS, OF NEW
ORLEANS,
THIS BOOK
Is Inscribed.
PREFACE.
THIS story was published in 1862 as a serial in the Southern Literary Messenger, under the name of "Agnes;" but as Mrs. Oliphant has since printed her beautiful novel of "Agnes," I resign the name, and call mine now "AGNES GRAHAM."
