The Metropolitan, Volym 53James Cochrane, 1848 |
Från bokens innehåll
Resultat 1-5 av 68
Sida 11
... morning my father called me into his study and placed a letter in my hands . It was fro n a cousin of his , a rich and learned vicar of the Church of England , and intimated the possibility of a situation for me as curate in one of the ...
... morning my father called me into his study and placed a letter in my hands . It was fro n a cousin of his , a rich and learned vicar of the Church of England , and intimated the possibility of a situation for me as curate in one of the ...
Sida 20
... morning , " and hurried towards Edgeware . The grey light of morning was just breaking when I passed under the archway at Highgate . Lord Welwyn's mansion , I knew , was a little farther on . A vast heath surrounded it on all sides . I ...
... morning , " and hurried towards Edgeware . The grey light of morning was just breaking when I passed under the archway at Highgate . Lord Welwyn's mansion , I knew , was a little farther on . A vast heath surrounded it on all sides . I ...
Sida 30
... morning , if she is a stranger here I may be able to render her some service . " The girl took the proffered card ; returned thanks rather with her eloquent eyes than with words , and hurried into the outer darkness . Brief time it ...
... morning , if she is a stranger here I may be able to render her some service . " The girl took the proffered card ; returned thanks rather with her eloquent eyes than with words , and hurried into the outer darkness . Brief time it ...
Sida 32
... morning rose , Whose bud the first sun's rays unclose . Still on her cheek , a fresh tint dwelt , Like a suspended blush , that's felt To rush up from the heart , when love Its one warm mystic pulse doth move . Her half - closed eyelids ...
... morning rose , Whose bud the first sun's rays unclose . Still on her cheek , a fresh tint dwelt , Like a suspended blush , that's felt To rush up from the heart , when love Its one warm mystic pulse doth move . Her half - closed eyelids ...
Sida 54
... down just yet , dear papa ; for she is trying on a new dress , and she did not quite like my interrupting her . But , dear , dear papa , do take a little butter to your bread ; mamma won't eat much this morning , I know , because ( 54 )
... down just yet , dear papa ; for she is trying on a new dress , and she did not quite like my interrupting her . But , dear , dear papa , do take a little butter to your bread ; mamma won't eat much this morning , I know , because ( 54 )
Andra upplagor - Visa alla
Vanliga ord och fraser
Alice Anselme appeared arms Audian beauty Boskey called Charles Yorke child cold countenance cried dark dead dear death DODSWORTH Dominicus door dream duty exclaimed eyes face father fear feel felt gazed Geneva gentleman girl give glance Grésivaudan Greystock hand happy head heard heart Higginbotham hope Horace Walpole hour husband Hutton Isère Jack John Forrest Joseph Long Kimballton lady Laithwaye laugh letter light LIII.-NO look Lord Bolingbroke Lord Hardwicke Lord Welwyn mind Mordaunt morning mother murder never night Oldboy once Orfea passed Pestlepolge Pierce Butler poor Redmond rejoined replied round scarcely scene seemed Shadrach silence Sir Thomas smile soon sorrow spirit Squadger stood sweet tears tell thee thing thou thought tion tone took turned Versoix voice Voltaire whilst wife woman words wretch Yellowchops young
Populära avsnitt
Sida 349 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, " Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the grave is not its goal ; " Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Sida 349 - Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act, — act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead ! Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ; Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again. Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.
Sida 349 - Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife! Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living...
Sida 348 - WOODS IN WINTER. WHEN winter winds are piercing chill, And through the hawthorn blows the gale, With solemn feet I tread the hill, That overbrows the lonely vale.
Sida 320 - Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God ; her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in Heaven and earth do her homage ; the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
Sida 349 - Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul. Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day. Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave. In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife!
Sida 389 - It is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. All argument is against it; but all belief is for it.
Sida 345 - Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, singing hymns unbidden till the world is wrought to sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Sida 441 - For me, I was never so affected with any human Tale. After first reading it, I was totally possessed with it for many days — I dislike all the miraculous part of it, but the feelings of the man under the operation of such scenery dragged me along like Tom Piper's magic whistle.
Sida 384 - ... learned that Mr. Higginbotham had in his service an Irishman of doubtful character, whom he had hired without a recommendation, on the score of economy. "May I be hanged myself...