Recollections of Thackeray. Cut from Harper's Magazine, Jan. 1877. [111].

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Side 260 - ... houseless, but for a mother's arms, couchless but for a mother's breast, till our own blood almost freezes. The mild dignity of CARVER and of BRADFORD; the decisive and soldierlike air and manner of STANDISH; the devout BREWSTER; the enterprising ALLERTON; the general firmness and thoughtfulness of the whole band; their conscious joy for dangers escaped ; their deep solicitude about dangers to come; their trust in Heaven; their high religious faith, full of confidence and anticipation: — all...
Side 263 - The waiter stares and shrugs his shoulder — "Monsieur is dead this many a day.
Side 264 - ... service time, and how the monitor would cane us afterwards because our shins were kicked. Yonder sit forty cherry-cheeked boys, thinking about home and holidays to-morrow. Yonder sit some threescore old gentlemen pensioners of the Hospital, listening to the prayers and the psalms. You hear them coughing feebly in the twilight, — the old reverend blackgowns. Is Codd Ajax alive? you wonder — the Cistercian lads called these old gentlemen Codds...
Side 263 - THE BALLAD OF BOUILLABAISSE. A STREET there is in Paris famous, For which no rhyme our language yields, Rue Neuve des Petits Champs its name is — The New Street of the Little Fields. And here's an inn, not rich and splendid, But still in comfortable case ; The which in youth I oft attended, To eat a bowl of Bouillabaisse.
Side 263 - This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is — A sort of soup or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo ; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace : All these you eat at TERRE'S tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Side 263 - Ah me ! how quick the days are flitting ! I mind me of a time that's gone, When here I'd sit, as now I'm sitting, In this same place— but not alone.
Side 263 - Bouillabaisse. This Bouillabaisse a noble dish is A sort of soup, or broth, or brew, Or hotchpotch of all sorts of fishes, That Greenwich never could outdo; Green herbs, red peppers, mussels, saffron, Soles, onions, garlic, roach, and dace: All these you eat at TERRA'S tavern, In that one dish of Bouillabaisse.
Side 263 - I'd scarce a beard upon my face, And now a grizzled, grim old fogy, I sit and wait for Bouillabaisse. Where are you, old companions trusty Of early days here met to dine? Come, waiter ! quick, a flagon crusty — I'll pledge them in the good old wine. The kind old voices and old faces My memory can quick retrace; Around the board they take their places, And share the wine and Bouillabaisse. There's JACK has made a wondrous marriage; There's laughing TOM is laughing yet; There's brave AUGUSTUS drives...

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