Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany, Tom 3proprietor, 1845 |
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Strona 3
... believe it was , " said Kezia ; " and it brought down the moon till it looked as big as a silver waiter . Talking of which reminds me of the stolen plate ; and which it is my private notion that you know as much or more about than any ...
... believe it was , " said Kezia ; " and it brought down the moon till it looked as big as a silver waiter . Talking of which reminds me of the stolen plate ; and which it is my private notion that you know as much or more about than any ...
Strona 10
... believe it . " " So you said of the hostility of the parish Board , " retorted the assistant . " Well , well , do as you please , " said my father . " I leave the matter entirely in your own hands . ” " In that case , " said Mr. Postle ...
... believe it . " " So you said of the hostility of the parish Board , " retorted the assistant . " Well , well , do as you please , " said my father . " I leave the matter entirely in your own hands . ” " In that case , " said Mr. Postle ...
Strona 18
... believe them ? " " But you are not one of those , " said Grandier , bitterly ; " you have lived among courtiers , and judging all men by that standard , believe me to be as heartless as they . " 66 Ungrateful ! " she exclaimed ; " had I ...
... believe them ? " " But you are not one of those , " said Grandier , bitterly ; " you have lived among courtiers , and judging all men by that standard , believe me to be as heartless as they . " 66 Ungrateful ! " she exclaimed ; " had I ...
Strona 56
... believe , over seas , and a year or two ago . " " Indeed , Miss Lucy did not know it , " earnestly replied young Pemberton ; " but but will she pardon me ? it was when I left Boston ; and 99 — " You took it for a keepsake , " said old ...
... believe , over seas , and a year or two ago . " " Indeed , Miss Lucy did not know it , " earnestly replied young Pemberton ; " but but will she pardon me ? it was when I left Boston ; and 99 — " You took it for a keepsake , " said old ...
Strona 59
... believe , " said Father , plunging at once in medias res , " you have some foreign land to dispose of ? " " Yes - there it is , " said Mr. Braggins , jumping down from his stool , and pointing with his finger to the biggest map- " all ...
... believe , " said Father , plunging at once in medias res , " you have some foreign land to dispose of ? " " Yes - there it is , " said Mr. Braggins , jumping down from his stool , and pointing with his finger to the biggest map- " all ...
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Popularne fragmenty
Strona 233 - In this state-chamber, dying by degrees, Hours and long hours in the dead night, I ask "Do I live, am I dead?" Peace, peace seems all. Saint Praxed's ever was the church for peace; And so, about this tomb of mine. I fought...
Strona 235 - To comfort me on my entablature Whereon I am to lie till I must ask 'Do I live, am I dead?' There, leave me, there! For ye have stabbed me with ingratitude To death - ye wish it - God, ye wish it! Stone Gritstone, a-crumble!
Strona 489 - No farther seek his merits to disclose, Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, (There they alike in trembling hope repose) The bosom of his father and his God.
Strona 469 - That what we love shall ne'er be so. I know not why I could not die, I had no earthly hope — but faith, And that forbade a selfish death.
Strona 233 - Put me where I may look at him! True peach, Rosy and flawless: how I earned the prize! Draw close: that conflagration of my church — What then? So much was saved if aught were missed!
Strona 488 - On the fore-finger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomies Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners...
Strona 235 - Good strong thick stupefying incensesmoke ! For as I lie here, hours of the dead night, Dying in state and by such slow degrees, I fold my arms as if they clasped a crook, And stretch my feet forth straight as stone can point, And let the bedclothes for a mortcloth drop Into great laps and folds of...
Strona 234 - Ready to twitch the Nymph's last garment off, And Moses with the tables . . . but I know Ye mark me not! What do they whisper thee, Child of my bowels, Anselm?
Strona 60 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Strona 234 - Praxed's ear to pray Horses for ye, and brown Greek manuscripts, And mistresses with great smooth marbly limbs ? — That's if ye carve my epitaph aright, Choice Latin, picked phrase, Tully's every word, No gaudy ware like Gandolf's second line — Tully, my masters? Ulpian serves his need!