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The Works of Thomas Hood, Ed., With Notes, by His Son [t. Hood].
The Works of Thomas Hood Ed With Notes by His Son - t. Hood Author:Thomas Hood General Books publication date: 2009 Original publication date: 1862 Notes: This is a black and white OCR reprint of the original. It has no illustrations and there may be typos or missing text. When you buy the General Books edition of this book you get free trial access to Million-Books.com where you can select from more than a million book... more »s for free. Excerpt: 1822. THE LONDON MAGAZINE. [!n this year my Father still continued to manage the "Lion's Head," from which I append selections. But as his place, as one of the regular contributors, was established from this time until the Magazine passed out of Messrs. Taylor and Hessey's hands, in 1823, his writings are to be met with pretty frequently. 1 suspect the various correspondents, who sent lines "On "Winter," "A Conflagration," and " Captivity," were in reality the same writer whose papers appeared in the "London," signed sometimes ''Theodore M.," sometimes "Incog.," and occasionally with an " H." or " T." only.] THE LION'S HEAD. If I. E. L. had written her " Stanzas" before the appearance of Lord Byron's, their merit would have been unquestionable. G.'s Muse should use Steer's Opodeldoc, which is allowed to be excellent for " strains." To Y. and Y. -- No ; a word to the Y's. L. -- sends us a " Scene from Memory, from the French." We suppose L.'s memory is in French. A. B. F. -- " Hymn; in Imitation of Wordsworth." Lion's Head is unfortunately obliged to decline giving it the opportunity of being " said or sung" by the readers of the " London." A Correspondent has sent us some lines "On Winter,"which with much gravity he informs us are meant for burlesque. The following are certainly serious : "Hiding on the storm, he shies Hail and snowballs from the skies : And the earth, all over white, Is very bad for a weak sight; But spectacles made of green glass Will make it look again like grass, And you shall dream of making hay In the middle of Christmas-day, And think you spy green goos...« less