The Little Republic: Original Articles

Framsida
Wiley & Putnam, 1848 - 228 sidor

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Sida 28 - As for man, his days are as grass; as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth : For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone ; and the place thereof shall know it no more.
Sida 119 - Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet, on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourn'd...
Sida 97 - His knife is worn half way to the haft. He can hear the voices, but not the words, of his terror-stricken companions below. What a moment! what a meagre chance to escape destruction! there is no retracing his steps. It is impossible to put his hands into the same niche with his feet, and retain his slender hold a moment. His companions instantly perceive this new and fearful dilemma, and await his fall with emotions that "freeze their young blood".
Sida 166 - The path of sorrow and that path alone, Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown...
Sida 99 - Fifty gains more must be cut before the longest rope can reach him. His wasting blade strikes again into the limestone. The boy is emerging painfully, foot by foot, from under that lofty arch. Spliced ropes are ready in the hands of those who are leaning over the outer edge of the bridge.
Sida 27 - Man that is born of a woman Is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.
Sida 101 - Mother! whispered on his lips just loud enough to be heard in heaven — the tightening rope lifts him out of his last shallow niche.
Sida 139 - Whoso offereth praise glorifieth me: and to him that ordereth his conversation aright will I show the salvation of God.
Sida 137 - And Pharaoh took off his ring from his hand, and put it upon Joseph's hand, and arrayed him in vestures of fine linen, and put a gold chain about his neck...
Sida 98 - Minutes of almost eternal length roll on, and there are hundreds standing in that rocky channel, and hundreds on the bridge above, all holding their breath, and awaiting the fearful catastrophe. The poor boy hears the hum of new and numerous voices both above and below. He can just distinguish the tones of his father, who is shouting with all the energy of despair : " William ! William ! don't look down ! Your mother, and Henry, and Harriet, are all here, praying for you ! Keep your eye toward the...

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