Hood's Magazine and Comic Miscellany, Tom 3proprietor, 1845 |
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Strona 2
... sure , and makes him look more like a satire of the woods than a Christian : but when you consider what hangs on it , namely , the future prospects in life of our poor helpless innocent twins , you'll respect his beard as if it belonged ...
... sure , and makes him look more like a satire of the woods than a Christian : but when you consider what hangs on it , namely , the future prospects in life of our poor helpless innocent twins , you'll respect his beard as if it belonged ...
Strona 3
... sure that you could discover the thief . And then that lost sheet , as was found in the churchyard , —how it was abstracted from a press to which nobody but ourselves had access : I own to thoughts , and suspicions , and misgivings ...
... sure that you could discover the thief . And then that lost sheet , as was found in the churchyard , —how it was abstracted from a press to which nobody but ourselves had access : I own to thoughts , and suspicions , and misgivings ...
Strona 5
... sure to come up a prize . " " I wish it may ! " said my father . " It is sure to come up a prize , " repeated my mother , " for I dreamt three times running of the number . " My father jumped up from his seat , and after pacing a few ...
... sure to come up a prize . " " I wish it may ! " said my father . " It is sure to come up a prize , " repeated my mother , " for I dreamt three times running of the number . " My father jumped up from his seat , and after pacing a few ...
Strona 6
... sure , " said my mother , " we shall be truly grateful for your kindness in any way . " 66 " I am not so certain of that , " replied Uncle Rumbold : however , what I propose is this , to relieve you altogether of the care and ...
... sure , " said my mother , " we shall be truly grateful for your kindness in any way . " 66 " I am not so certain of that , " replied Uncle Rumbold : however , what I propose is this , to relieve you altogether of the care and ...
Strona 20
... sure the screams came from the pavilion . Let us go there . " " The pavilion ! " said Etienne , starting . " There is no one there ! -It is locked , and I have not the key . " " Nevertheless , " said the old woman pertinaciously , " I ...
... sure the screams came from the pavilion . Let us go there . " " The pavilion ! " said Etienne , starting . " There is no one there ! -It is locked , and I have not the key . " " Nevertheless , " said the old woman pertinaciously , " I ...
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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!