Ballou's Monthly Magazine, Bind 33–34Thomes & Talbot, 1871 |
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Side 22
... woman had started to a sitting position , and was calling : " Louis ! Louis ! " " Mother ! " he exclaimed , and hurried to the bedside . His mother received him with as much reproach as joy , for even while she embraced him she asked ...
... woman had started to a sitting position , and was calling : " Louis ! Louis ! " " Mother ! " he exclaimed , and hurried to the bedside . His mother received him with as much reproach as joy , for even while she embraced him she asked ...
Side 34
... woman who could not . Don't tell me it was not your fault . I dare say you had your magpie head , all the while , either in the wine - cellar or in my bureau drawers . I'll make you suf- fer for it though . " Poor Lisette would no doubt ...
... woman who could not . Don't tell me it was not your fault . I dare say you had your magpie head , all the while , either in the wine - cellar or in my bureau drawers . I'll make you suf- fer for it though . " Poor Lisette would no doubt ...
Side 39
... woman - to care for me particularly , and as I never go out or have company , my loneliness is becoming a torture to me . Perhaps I am an old idiot , but I fancied it would be pleas for many weeks without meeting him , as his us , and ...
... woman - to care for me particularly , and as I never go out or have company , my loneliness is becoming a torture to me . Perhaps I am an old idiot , but I fancied it would be pleas for many weeks without meeting him , as his us , and ...
Side 41
... woman he thought she resembled with rich branches of holly , gleaming with waxen scarlet berries ; Amber found him in his libra- ry , hanging Christmas wreaths in the windows . " Peace on earth , good - will to men ! " she said ...
... woman he thought she resembled with rich branches of holly , gleaming with waxen scarlet berries ; Amber found him in his libra- ry , hanging Christmas wreaths in the windows . " Peace on earth , good - will to men ! " she said ...
Side 42
... woman of all the world I want to see him marry . She is like my lost one - O , so like her ! Ah , Helen , why did you not die , my little golden haired baby , instead of living to break your father's heart ? Child of my love , are you ...
... woman of all the world I want to see him marry . She is like my lost one - O , so like her ! Ah , Helen , why did you not die , my little golden haired baby , instead of living to break your father's heart ? Child of my love , are you ...
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Alicia Araxa arms asked beautiful Ben Davis better Bill Bill Moore boat Bob Graham called Captain child Colonel Yates Creighton cried dark dear Dick door dress exclaimed eyes face Fairoaks father feet Gertie girl glance gone hair half hand happy head hear heard heart hour Jack Hastings Jinny John John Creighton kiss knew lady laughing Leonore light live looked Louis Lycidas marriage marry miles Miss Miss Martindale morning mother Nelson never night Odessa once passed pelargonium poor pretty replied rose Russia seemed Shafton ship side smile soon stairs stood sure sweet tell thing thought tion told took turned Uncle Ben Uncle Seth voice walked watched Westwold wife Wilbraham window woman wonder wont words young
Populære passager
Side 362 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors ! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow!
Side 219 - All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits, and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms...
Side 219 - His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again towards childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ! Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Side 362 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ; For the deck it was their field of fame, And ocean was their grave...
Side 305 - Doubt not, therefore, sir, but that angling is an art, and an art worth your learning. The question is rather, whether you be capable of learning it ? for angling is somewhat like poetry, — men are to be born so: 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;...
Side 219 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances ; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Side 306 - Taking therein no little delectation, To think how strange, how wonderful they be; Framing thereof an inward contemplation, To set his heart from other fancies free ; And whilst he looks on these with joyful eye. His mind is wrapt above the starry sky.
Side 219 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Side 305 - O sir, doubt not but that angling is an art. Is it not an art to deceive a trout with an artificial fly ? a trout that is more sharp-sighted than any hawk you have named, and more watchful and timorous than your high-mettled merlin is bold ! and yet I doubt not to catch a brace or two to-morrow for a friend's breakfast. Doubt not, therefore, sir, but that angling is an art...
Side 363 - BLOW high, blow low, let tempests tear, The main-mast by the board ; My heart, with thoughts of thee, my dear, And love well stored, Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear, The roaring winds, the raging sea, In hopes on shore To be once more Safe moored with thee ! Aloft while mountains high we go, The whistling winds that scud along, And...