Angling IdyllsChapman & Hall, 1876 - 204 sider |
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Side 4
... gives to our waterside ramble more than atones for a lighter basket . Now we enter a wood , where the oaks and the alders crowd too thickly over the stream for us to fish it . We stroll quietly along the mossy glades and mark the lady ...
... gives to our waterside ramble more than atones for a lighter basket . Now we enter a wood , where the oaks and the alders crowd too thickly over the stream for us to fish it . We stroll quietly along the mossy glades and mark the lady ...
Side 7
... gives us a somewhat pale and preoccupied look , she imagines we are delicate , and what woman can resist the pleasure of doctoring somebody ? Therefore , she supplies us with fresh eggs , beautiful milk , almost solid cream , and such ...
... gives us a somewhat pale and preoccupied look , she imagines we are delicate , and what woman can resist the pleasure of doctoring somebody ? Therefore , she supplies us with fresh eggs , beautiful milk , almost solid cream , and such ...
Side 11
... reel . " Throw your rod in after him . " The advice comes too late . There is a sharp struggle forty yards up the stream ; the gut gives way , and the line flies back among the bushes in sticky folds . THE MILL . II 51 54 60 THE MILL.
... reel . " Throw your rod in after him . " The advice comes too late . There is a sharp struggle forty yards up the stream ; the gut gives way , and the line flies back among the bushes in sticky folds . THE MILL . II 51 54 60 THE MILL.
Side 16
... gives the radiance of health and life and beauty to the damp and decay and sadness of this autumn wood . And now a wren begins to sing shrilly in the under- wood ; a robin on yonder gate flicks its tail and expands its red breast , and ...
... gives the radiance of health and life and beauty to the damp and decay and sadness of this autumn wood . And now a wren begins to sing shrilly in the under- wood ; a robin on yonder gate flicks its tail and expands its red breast , and ...
Side 17
... give our quarry the honour of his proper name , for in this eastern county , where the rustics ' wits are as slow as their rivers , the roach suffers the indignity C of being classed with the bream and called by the AN OCTOBER MORNING . 17.
... give our quarry the honour of his proper name , for in this eastern county , where the rustics ' wits are as slow as their rivers , the roach suffers the indignity C of being classed with the bream and called by the AN OCTOBER MORNING . 17.
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angler angling bait Bala lake bank beauty bird bite blue boat bream fishing breeze bright broad brook brown Broxbourne bushes butterbur canal carp catch caught clear clouds colour coracle corncrake dark darts dash deep dipper dives eddying eggs Eglwyseg eyes feet ferns float flowers fresh Gipsy gloaming grass grebe green grew grey gudgeon gwyniad happy valley head Herbert heron hills hooked inches kingfisher lake lanes leaves Llangollen look meadows nest night otter perch pike Piscator pleasant pool pounds in weight pounds weight quiet rain ramble reeds rise river river Dee roach rock round rushes sail salmon shallow shining Shropshire side splash sport spot stem stone stream surface swim tackle tail tall trees trout turned Viator watching water-hen water-ouzel weeds wild willows wind wonderful wood worm yards Yare yellow yellow water-lilies
Populære passager
Side 166 - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
Side 85 - In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Side 164 - How beautiful is the rain ! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful is the rain ! How it clatters along the roofs, Like the tramp of hoofs ! How it gushes and struggles out From the throat of the overflowing spout ! Across the window-pane It pours and pours ; And swift and wide, With a muddy tide, Like a river down the gutter roars The rain, the welcome rain...
Side 42 - Then think I of deep shadows on the grass, Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze, Where, as the breezes pass, The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass, Or whiten in the wind, of waters blue That from the distance sparkle through Some woodland gap, and of a sky above, Where one white cloud like a stray lamb doth move.
Side 53 - I mean, with inclinations to it, though both may be heightened by discourse and practice : but he that hopes to be a good angler, must not only bring an inquiring, searching, observing wit, but he must bring a large measure of hope and patience, and a love and propensity to the art itself; but having once got and practised it, then doubt not but Angling will prove to be so pleasant that it will prove to be, like virtue, a reward to itself.
Side 59 - BY night we linger'd on the lawn, For underfoot the herb was dry; And genial warmth; and o'er the sky The silvery haze of summer drawn; And calm that let the tapers burn Unwavering: not a cricket...
Side 165 - The sick man from his chamber looks At the twisted brooks ; He can feel the cool Breath of each little pool ; His fevered brain Grows calm again, And he breathes a blessing on the rain.
Side 165 - In the country, on every side, Where far and wide, Like a leopard's tawny and spotted hide, Stretches the plain...
Side 54 - Indeed, my good scholar, we may say of angling, as Dr. Boteler said of strawberries, " Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did :" and so, if I might be judge, " God never did make a more calm, quiet, innocent recreation, than angling.
Side 140 - I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD.' I WANDERED lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees, Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the Milky Way, They stretched in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance, Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.