A Painting Purported to Depict Abraham Clark, a Signer of the Declaration of Independence from New Jersey, and His Family

����� ��� Early in Graphs, Maps, Trees: Abstract Models for a Literary History, Franco Moretti asks, “What would happen if literary historians, too, decided to ‘shift their gaze’ . . . ‘from the extraordinary to the everyday, from exceptional events to the large mass of facts’? What literature would we find, in ‘the large mass of facts’?” (3). Although Moretti considers these questions in relation to the European novel, they are intriguing ones to ask in regard to other textual forms and genres as well. For the literary historian, what is more everyday—literally, figuratively—than the daily newspaper, where, in the nineteenth century, poetry and fiction existed alongside news ar ticles, advertisements, editorials, and an array of other texts, including death and marriage announcements, weather reports, and public notices? Poems could tell the news, and sometimes the news was fiction; genres blurred. When posed of newspapers and their literature, then, Moretti’s question—“What literature would we find, in ‘the large mass of facts’?”— takes on additional nuance. By and large, literary historians have not turned their gaze to the newspaper, and the number of literary scholars treating the nineteenthcentury newspaper in any of its varied incarnations (daily, weekly, local, national, illustrated, story, religious, political, ethnic, multilingual, and so on) is small. Several factors have kept attention focused elsewhere, among them long-prevalent models of literary scholarship, which have tended to privilege authors, forms, and genres not represented in nineteenth-century newspapers. Difficulties in gaining access to the materials, whether print originals or facsimiles, have hindered research. And when you find them, the sheer abundance of their text is daunting. Recently, however, newspapers have appeared in a variety of contexts in American literary studies. Scholars have turned to newspapers in projects on women writers, reader response and reception, fiction in late-nineteenth-century papers, and the

In this conversation, Laurel Brake and James Mussell discuss journals and digitization. They were both editors of the Nineteenth Century Serials Edition (ncse), a digitized edition of six nineteenth-century newspapers and periodicals published in 2008. The conversation takes in the digitization of historical periodicals in the broader context of contemporary, born-digital periodical titles. Nineteenth-century newspapers and periodicals present particular challenges: there are so many of them; they are poorly catalogued; runs are fragmented; and they survive in many forms. As well as this troublesome archive, they also consider the problems posed by periodical form itself. Is there a place for periodicity in an always-on digital world? Birkbeck was the base for ncse from 2005 to 2008, and Brake and Mussell were both involved with 19 in its first few years. They discuss the potential of born-digital periodicals like 19 and consider how, to date, 19 has exploited its medium. In many ways this anniversary issue — combining text, audio, and video and marking a particular moment — exemplifies how much more work there is to do.

The National Police Gazette, a popular New York City tabloid that reached its heyday in the late nineteenth century, was known for its challenging and changing assumptions about masculinities in its coverage of sports, professional pursuits, and even dress. This study examined two issues a year selected randomly over a twenty-one-year period, 1879–1899, to determine if the Gazette ever offered coverage of or hints at homosexual or bisexual lifestyles. It also examined the way the tabloid covered trials involving Oscar Wilde, during which he was accused of sodomy. Little has been written about “mainstream” nineteenth-century newspapers' coverage of gay or sexually alternative lifestyles, probably because very little of such coverage was offered. This examination found that occasionally the Gazette hinted at multiple meanings of cross-dressing (usually women dressing as men) or the effeminate characteristics of “dudes,” but it rarely covered gay or alternative lifestyles in any direct way.

The widespread digitisation of their source base means that historians now face an overwhelming body of material. This historical ‘big data’ is only going to continue to expand, not just because digitisation features prominently on the agendas of institutions, but also because those studying late twentieth, and twenty-first century, history will have to deal with large quantities of ‘born digital’ material as they turn their gaze to the internet age. Although the interfaces currently used to access digital sources have their strengths, there is an increasing need for more effective ways for historians to work with large amounts of text. This thesis is one of the first studies to explore the potential of corpus linguistics, the computer-assisted analysis of language in very large bodies of text, as a means of approaching the ever-expanding historical archive. This thesis uses corpus linguistics to examine the representation of migrants in the British Library’s nineteenth-century newspaper collection, focusing specifically upon the discourses associated with ‘aliens’ and ‘refugees’, and how they changed over time. The nineteenth century saw an increase in global movement, which led to considerable legislative changes, including the development of many of Britain’s present-day migration controls. This thesis finds that ‘alien’ migration increased in topicality in the 1880s and 1890s and that ‘alien’ saw a striking shift in its associations that, significantly, coincided with an increase in, predominantly Jewish, migrants from the Russian Empire. Although only a small proportion of Britain’s ‘alien’ population, this group dominated newspaper reporting, which became characterised by increasingly negative language, including a strong association between the ‘alien’ and poverty. Although ‘refugee’ was often associated with more positive language than ‘alien’, this thesis finds that the actions of a small number of violent individuals influenced newspaper reporting upon political refugees, who became implicated in the alleged ‘abuse’ of the ‘right of asylum’.

This important book is the first to examine reproductive discourses and practices in Mexico City and Oaxaca across the “long” nineteenth century. Reproduction and Its Discontents in Mexico: Childbirth and Contraception from 1750 to 1905 follows the conventional pre-Columbian-colonial-national periodization of Mexican history. Nora E. Jaffary draws on six archives and libraries in Mexico City, four in Oaxaca, and collections at Columbia University and London’s Wellcome Library. Examining documents from abortion and infanticide criminal trials, legislation, published medical and legal tracts from the sixteenth through nineteenth centuries, and nineteenth-century newspapers, Jaffary employs qualitative analysis of exemplary case studies and statistical analysis of abortion and infanticide records. Engaging a wide literature in Mexican history and European comparisons, Jaffary emphasizes change more than continuity regarding attitudes, expectations, and regulations about reproduction, and she shows persistent behaviors of pregnant women of all classes in seeking midwife expertise and regulating pregnancies. Examining discourses of sexual honor, public virtue, and motherhood, the book documents a shift in preoccupation with reproduction, which was first limited mostly to elite Spanish colonial women but by the end of the nineteenth century included all women. In chapter 1, while honor, class, and Christianity together determined elite women’s “social virginity” in the colonial period, during the nineteenth century plebeian women could increasingly claim to be social virgins despite physical evidence precluding “biological virginity” (40). By the late nineteenth century, medical and criminal discourses determined biological virginity, and plebeian women faced greater pressure to adhere to definitions of sexual purity. In chapter 2, Mexican women sought indigenous midwives’ expertise—which drew on pre-Columbian cultural knowledge and practical expertise from years of attending births—about conception and pregnancy throughout the colonial and early national periods. European male physicians entered obstetrics bringing new practices, such as internal examinations and forceps delivery, but did not replace midwives. Professional medical and pharmaceutical manuals from the colonial and national periods shared knowledge on preventing miscarriage, and newspapers increasingly advertised remedies for digestive and other side effects of pregnancy. While male doctors and female midwives competed with each other, Jaffary also finds evidence of cooperation, as with a nineteenth-century Oaxacan law calling for “doctors to learn the art of obstetrics from midwives rather than the other way around” (73).

This article examines the inter-relationship of journalism and poetry in the nineteenth century, when poems on topical issues regularly appeared in newspapers alongside prose reports of the same events. Poems and news reports addressing the Cotton Famine of the 1860s are examined through the dual lenses of literary analysis and field theory, to query how journalism—and the idea of journalism—might be expanded, challenged, or developed by exchanges with poetry, or, in the Bourdieusian sense, how poems might modify the journalistic field. The article argues that nineteenth-century newspaper poems built on and extended the journalism-as-educative paradigm, seeking to move readers from reflection to action, and contributing significantly to the “crusadism” of the late nineteenth-century press. Nineteenth-century newspaper poetry worked with, but distinctly from, journalism to act on and mobilise the reader, and it also critically reflected on the journalism on which it drew and within which it was embedded. The ways nineteenth-century poetry worked to change the way the function of journalism was conceptualised suggest provocative implications for the twenty-first century.

PurposeThe purpose of this paper is to explore and analyze the digitized newspaper collection at the National Library of Sweden, focusing on cultural heritage as digital noise. In what specific ways are newspapers transformed in the digitization process? If the digitized document is not the same as the source document – is it still a historical record, or is it transformed into something else?Design/methodology/approachThe authors have analyzed the XML files from Aftonbladet 1830 to 1862. The most frequent newspaper words not matching a high-quality references corpus were selected to zoom in on the noisiest part of the paper. The variety of the interpretations generated by optical character recognition (OCR) was examined, as well as texts generated by auto-segmentation. The authors have made a limited ethnographic study of the digitization process.FindingsThe research shows that the digital collection of Aftonbladet contains extreme amounts of noise: millions of misinterpreted words generated by OCR, and millions of texts re-edited by the auto-segmentation tool. How the tools work is mostly unknown to the staff involved in the digitization process? Sticking to any idea of a provenance chain is hence impossible, since many steps have been outsourced to unknown factors affecting the source document.Originality/valueThe detail examination of digitally transformed newspapers is valuable to scholars depending on newspaper databases in their research. The paper also highlights the fact that libraries outsourcing digitization processes run the risk of losing control over the quality of their collections.

Book Reviews 123 Buchanan concludes by returning to the central role voters play in this process, questioning why voters do not use their power to caU candidates to account more often. The answer he offers is that the "civic dispositions" of the voters/citizens does not give them a sense that they are "stakeholders" in this process, and so they often faü to exercise the power at their disposal. The typical voter response is "exit, not voice." This "thin civic programming" leads to a minimalist, not a robust conception of the role of the citizen in a democracy, but "We are dealing here with socialization effects, not intrinsic limitations" (165). Thus, the author suggests an "alternative civic programming," one that relies on only a relatively smaU number of voters "initiaUy perhaps no more that the 5 to 10 percent that has been the typical margin of victory in recent presidential elections" (167), to reinvigorate citizen power. This valuable and chaUenging book forces us to reexamine the role of the citizen in a political democracy in a way that both blames and praises the citizen. Buchanan offers hope for improving the presidential selection process by offering hope for a more meaningful form of political democracy, one in which the voter takes control and "forces" candidates to abandon the Nixon Credo in favor of more meaningful and viable forms of democratic campaigning. Michael A. Genovese Loyola Marymount University Governing with the News: The News Media as a Political Institution. By Timothy E. Cook. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998; pp. xi + 289. $17.95 paper. Timothy E. Cook, professor of political science at WUliams CoUege, has written an important book, making a compeUing case that the news media are a political institution and that journalists are political actors. Many scholars have argued that journalists are biased, but this book carefuUy examines the historically close relationship between the government and the mass media and the way news organizations have consistently played a key role in governing that often has not been supportive of democracy. The argument is supported theoreticaUy by an approach that emphasizes American political development—the comparative politics of institutions over time—and a focus on the "new institutionaUsm" that is receiving increased attention in political science. Cook exhibits impressive knowledge of the general literature on mass communication and the more narrowly focused literature on political communication. Too often studies that focus on political communication are not informed by theory and research of specialists in communications. In several respects this book represents a much-needed synthesis. In the introductory chapter, Cook states that he is more interested in developing than testing an empirical theory of the news media as an institution. Theoretical development is necessary according to Cook because the narrow field of political communication has been dominated with a concern with media effects and has 124 Rhetoric & Public Affairs neglected the implications of research findings. Sociologists and critical theorists, on the other hand, have been wiUing to view the media as an institution, but have not emphasized its role in governance. Furthermore, journalists traditionaUy have discouraged others from viewing them as poUtical actors and in fact do not see themselves in political terms. Cook is also interested in evaluating the news media as a political institution. SpecificaUy, he asks whether the news media have the capacity to assist in governance and accountabUity consistent with democracy. Chapters two and three are given to a consideration of the historical development of the relationship of the press and government. Cook's central argument is that the press has always been supported by government policies and practices or by political parties. Until half way through the nineteenth century newspapers were sponsored by political parties and printing contracts, as weU as access to government officials as an aspect of patronage. The politics of the early years of the RepubUc encouraged a partisan press, but in the latter half of the century the press became more commercialized with the growth of mass circulation newspapers and the focus of news became less ideological. Advertisers provided the financial support for newspapers, replacing parties. The process of news making changed as the Washington press corps grew. Cook is careful...

William Wilkinson Wardell was one of the most important architects of colonial Australia. A Catholic convert who had already extensive experience in working for the Catholic Church in England, Wardell relocated to Melbourne in 1858 with a large number of architectural drawings for ecclesiastical structures proving he was a distinguished Gothic revivalist. In Victoria, he established an extraordinary partnership with the first Catholic Bishop of Melbourne, James Goold, and despite being busily engaged at the Public Works Department, for over ten years he also maintained a successful private practice working on more than a dozen church commissions in the Gothic Revival style. Drawing on archival research including surviving architectural drawings, diocesan correspondence, and nineteenth century newspapers, the article reveals Wardell’s ability in blending English, Irish and French medieval Gothic elements that appealed to the local congregations for his Australian church designs. Furthermore, it demonstrates that his substantial parish churches manifested the strength and permanence of Catholic religious tradition, ultimately helping Bishop James Goold to lay strong foundations in the establishment of the Catholic Church in Victoria.

This paper focuses on the fantastic and horror tales by Raimunda Torres y Quiroga. She was an Argentine writer who, under several pseudonyms, published her work in nineteenth century newspapers and literary magazines. Her tales of the fantastic are a defence of women’s rights against male violence. These tales often depict after death acts of revenge. Until now, she was completely unknown by literary critics.

Reviewed by: Epidemics: Hate and Compassion from the Plague of Athens to AIDS by Samuel K. Cohn, Jr. Benjamin Reilly Epidemics: Hate and Compassion from the Plague of Athens to AIDS. By samuel k. cohn, jr. New York: Oxford University Press, 2018. xi + 643 pp. ISBN 978-0-19-881966-0. $135.00 (hardcover). Samuel K. Cohn, Jr.’s latest book, Epidemics: Hate and Compassion from the Plague of Athens to AIDS, is a masterful discussion of a topic that has come into renewed focus in the wake of the coronavirus, namely the link between disease and xenophobic behavior. Overall, Cohn’s approach to the topic is overwhelmingly empirical rather than [End Page 627] theoretical. True, Cohn presents several theories about the relationship between disease and violence, most notably the generally held-belief that disease outbreaks invariably provoke violence against the outsider “other,” and Margaret Humphrey’s more specific and nuanced thesis linking violence to previously unknown, highly deadly, and untreatable infections. However, Cohn smothers such theories under the accumulated weight of over 500 pages of dense evidence. Indeed, the sheer volume of data that Cohn presents is stunning. So is its temporal scope: Cohn’s survey of disease takes us from the plagues and scapegoats of the ancient world to the Jewish massacres of the Middle Ages to the syphilitic prostitutes and untori plague spreaders of the early modern period. In the process, Cohn notes that the prevailing theory that medieval plague provoked anti-outsider violence is only partially true. While the first wave of the Black Death provoked considerable social violence, later outbreaks were conspicuously violence-free. The largest part of the book, however, is directed towards the epidemics of the early modern and modern world, in particular smallpox, yellow fever, cholera, and the Great Influenza pandemic of 1918. Cohn studies reactions to these diseases by drawing upon the techniques of the digital humanities, conducting OCR searches of a sizable archive of eighteenth and nineteenth century newspapers. The story that emerges varies by disease, by time period, and by geographic region. Cholera, Cohn argues, best fits theories that disease can trigger social violence, though he notes that the violence was only infrequently directed against outsiders. Rather, cholera riots were usually directed against social elites and the medical profession (in Europe) or against agents of colonialism (in China and India). Smallpox also triggered considerable social violence, at least in the United States. However, unlike cholera, smallpox social violence was typically perpetrated by elites against the poor, marginal, and unvaccinated, including the Chinese, Mexicans, French-Canadians, and “negro tramps.” While smallpox and cholera do seem to have provoked social violence, Cohn argues that yellow fever and the Great Influenza pandemic had the opposite effect, uniting fractured societies and provoking unprecedented outpourings of volunteerism and self-abnegating behavior. In America, yellow fever struck during periods of high racial and anti-immigrant tension, yet its impact was to ease those tensions and facilitate cross-regional humanitarianism between the previously warring north and south. The story for the Great Influenza was much the same, but on a global scale. Despite the influenza’s sudden onset and high mortality it inspired compassion [End Page 628] rather than fear amongst its victims, though Cohn does note that the influenza epidemic provoked an unprecedented and highly intrusive level of state surveillance over civil society. In his postscript, Cohn argues against the grain and contends that that the story of AIDS is actually more similar to that of yellow fever and the Great Influenza than to cholera and smallpox. While AIDS did initially provoke fear and social violence, such violence rose to nowhere near the level of the anti-Jewish massacres of the medieval era, and in the long run AIDS served as a unifying force that “mobilized more gay men into political and community organizations . . . than any other event in the short history of the gay movement” (p. 555). Cohn’s conclusions at the end of this long study are modest and nuanced. While acknowledging that disease does sometimes trigger social violence, he argues that such violence is actually more characteristic of the modern world than the ancient era and that it often took the form...

In this article, I use document embedding models and a training set of nineteenth-century American recipes to build a pipeline classifier for identifying recipes in the broader nineteenth-century newspaper press. The model reveals a much more expansive understanding of the recipe form, which primarily centers around measurement words and prescriptive language rather than a heavily reliance upon the culinary. This fluidity of form allows nineteenth-century writers to harness the recipe form as a tool for political commentary all while no appearing to disrupt the careful divides between the public and domestic spheres. These recipe-adjacent texts, which are both recipe and not, offer a broader picture of short-form political commentary in the nineteenth century which can include genres and forms once thought unable to gestured beyond the confines of the kitchen.

Musical life in nineteenth-century America has been thoroughly surveyed during the past two decades through the work of Gilbert Chase, H. Wiley Hitchcock, Richard Crawford, and others.(1) Scholars have devoted less attention, however, to regional studies of musicians, performers, and the music publishing industry.(2) Despite the daunting prospect of identifying, accessing, and wading through personal diaries, memoirs, nineteenth-century newspapers, federal census records, and other types of primary and secondary source materials, the significant amount of information found therein provides the foundation for important - as well as satisfying - studies. Most academic music libraries actively collect archival materials documenting local musical activity, and these collections offer unique opportunities to scholars seeking to broaden our knowledge of American music history. In this endeavor, the Music Library at Cornell University has been an active participant, and among its archival collections are papers documenting the careers of two important local musicians. On 28 April 1980, Louise Chadwick Brown, granddaughter of composer John M. Chadwick (1837-1906) of Seneca County, N.Y., donated a collection of manuscript and printed music to the Cornell University Music Library.(3) Although, upon receipt, approximately twenty-five percent of the printed music from this gift had to be disposed of as unusable,(4) a total of seventy items remained intact.(5) These items for the most part document the compositional output of John M. Chadwick and his son George M. (Mortimer) Chadwick (1868-1940) in the latter part of the nineteenth century.(6) This archival collection (never reported for inclusion in Resources of American Music History(7)), along with other primary resources from regional institutions, helps to bring the lives and careers of these central New York musicians sharply into focus. The following preliminary observations, which mark the first attempt to outline individual biographies and worklists,(8) document a father-son relationship that spans the decades from the Civil War into the first half of the twentieth century and provide a glimpse into nineteenth-century musical life not only at Cornell University, but in the region as well. JOHN M. CHADWICK: FROM CENTRAL NEW YORK TO THE CIVIL WAR AND BACK In the 7 April 1896 issue of the Ovid Independent, a weekly newspaper published in Seneca County, N.Y., an anonymous contributor offers the following assessment of the Third Brigade Band during the Civil War: From the march from the Radidan [Rapidan] to Appomattox, the 3d Brigade band reported at headquarters every night. Besides doing duty at the hospitals, and carrying wounded soldiers off the field of battle, they were frequently called upon to go in the night on the skirmish line and play to deceive the enemy while the army would be making some strategic move, and then find their own way out of the hole as best they could. But the most important event in their history was that when negotiations were going on between Grant and Lee for the surrender of the Confederate Army, the band of the 3d Brigade . . . were called upon to report at General Meade's headquarters. . . . They were not long in waiting before the service required of them was made known. Word soon came that General Lee had surrendered. Never was wind jammed through horns louder and with greater vim than on that occasion. The honor they had long sought, of being the first band to play the National airs on the surrender of the Southern army, was theirs. They were further honored by being called upon to give a concert at General Meade's headquarters the same evening.(9) The leader of the 3rd Brigade Band [ILLUSTRATION FOR FIGURE 1 OMITTED] was John M. Chadwick. Born 23 June 1837 in Northville (now King Ferry) in Cayuga County,(10) Chadwick's family moved to Ohio(11) in the early 1840s, making the journey in part by canal boat. …

William Booth (1829–1912), founder and first General of the Salvation Army, left an indelible mark on the religious and social life of the late nineteenth century. Born in 1829 in Sneinton, near Nottingham, Booth became a Wesleyan Methodist local preacher in his teens, an evangelist with the Wesleyan Reformers in his early twenties, and then a minister of the Methodist New Connexion for eight years before resigning in 1862 to pursue the calling of a freelance revivalist with his wife and fellow preacher Catherine, née Mumford (1829–90). From 1865 the Booths were based in the East End of London, seeking to reach the unchurched urban masses with a forceful gospel message. Their East London Revival Society evolved by stages into the Salvation Army, launched in 1878, with its flags, its uniforms, its brass bands, and its military terminology—and its deliberate eschewing of ecclesiastical language, structures, and sacraments. Over the next three decades Booth saw the Army become an international movement, with a strong presence in North America and Australasia, as well as Continental Europe. After years of strenuous opposition from local authorities and from the ‘Skeleton Army’ of urban ne'er-do-wells, Booth attained the status of a celebrity, visiting Buckingham Palace, conversing with the Emperor of Japan, leading prayers in the United States Senate, and receiving an honorary doctorate from the University of Oxford. His methods were discussed in the Contemporary Review in 1882 by Randall Davidson and Cardinal Henry Edward Manning, and his proposals for social reform, set out in his In Darkest England and the Way Out (1890), were debated by public intellectuals like H. M. Hyndman and T. H. Huxley. When he died, Booth lay in state for four days before a funeral service at Olympia attended by an estimated 35,000 people and a procession to Abney Park cemetery headed by thirty-six bands. The General's absolute control over the Salvation Army was demonstrated by his bequest of leadership to his eldest son Bramwell; seventeen years later the Army's High Council removed the ailing Bramwell from office, although members of the Booth family remained in senior leadership for many decades thereafter.Gordon Taylor served for twenty-three years with the Salvation Army's International Heritage Centre, and was senior researcher, archivist, and associate director there. His unrivalled knowledge of the Salvation Army's archives and his indefatigable trawling through nineteenth-century newspapers have produced a monumental study of William Booth's long life, falling only just short of 1,000 pages. As a narrative, the biography is hugely informative, highly readable, and enhanced by well-produced photographs of the Booth family and significant places in the story. As indicated by the title of the second volume, Taylor continues the narrative into the twenty-first century, describing anniversary commemorations and biographies by Harold Begbie, St John Ervine, Roy Hattersley, and David Bennett. Taylor even notes the naming of a peak near Alberta, Canada, Mount William Booth in 1966.In terms of descriptive detail and thoroughness, this biography offers all that the reader might desire and more. This reviewer was intrigued to find the Booths' work endorsed by such Wesleyan luminaries as George Osborn, J. H. Rigg, and T. P. Bunting, as well as Hugh Price Hughes and Henry Lunn. Financial support came from Henry Reed, a lay Wesleyan who made a fortune in Tasmania, and from William Shepherd Allen, member of Parliament and scourge of theological liberalism. There are questions still to be explored: for example, why revivalism polarized opinion in most of the Methodist denominations in the mid- nineteenth century, so that the Wesleyans, the New Connexion, and the Primitive Methodists closed their pulpits to freelance revivalists; why the Salvation Army provoked such ferocious opposition, not only in the East End of London, but also in provincial towns like Basingstoke and Northampton; and to what extent the Army succeeded in its aim of reaching the ‘submerged tenth’ of the urban population. Likewise, the Booths' debt to Methodism, whether to John Wesley or to later iterations of Wesleyan theology and practice, both British and North American, continues to invite investigation. These issues are not discussed in any detail here, but Gordon Taylor has provided a rich and comprehensively annotated biographical resource that will place scholars of Victorian religion in his debt for many years to come.

On February 8, 1862, the Ashtabula Weekly Telegraph (Ashtabula, Ohio) published on its back page a list of fourteen “Health Hints—Follies.”1 These follies, attributed to a “Dr. Hall,” critique ideas about diet and exercise (“1. To thing [sic] that the more a man eats the fatter and stronger he will become”), education (“2. To believe that the more hours children study at school the faster they learn”), home organization (“5. To act on the presumption that the smallest room in the house is large enough to sleep in”), and even ethics (“7. To commit an act which is felt in itself to be prejudicial, hoping that somehow or other it may be done in your case with impunity”). This snippet exemplifies the listicle genre, which is often associated with popular content online in the early twenty-first century, but which was also common in nineteenth-century newspapers.2 The “Follies” piece is, on its face, quite conventional and unassuming, but it was one of the most widely reprinted newspaper snippets of the nineteenth century, appearing at least 136 times in newspapers and magazines between 1862 and 1899.3