A L'abri: Or The Tent Pitch'd

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S. Colman, 1839 - 172 էջ

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Էջ 44 - I here begin comes to a finishing, it will be malgre blistering hands and weary back — the consequences of hard raking — of hay. The men are taking their four o'clock of cheese and cider in the meadow, and, not having simplified my digestion as rapidly as my habits, I have retired to the shelter of the bridge, to be decently rid of the master's first bit and pull at the pitcher. After employing my brains in vain, to discover why this particular branch of farming should require cider and cheese,...
Էջ 100 - A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet ; It is the distant and the dim That we are sick to greet ; For flowers that grow our hands beneath We struggle and aspire, — Our hearts must die, except they breathe The air of fresh desire.
Էջ v - Therefore since custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means endeavour to obtain good customs. Certainly custom is most perfect, when it beginneth in young years : this we call education, which is, in effect, but an early custom.
Էջ 86 - And is not careful what they mean thereby," it is very pleasant now and then to pounce upon a bigger bird screaming in the same chorus. Nothing impairs the dignity of an author's reputation like a newspaper wrangle, yet one bold literary vulture struck down promptly and successfully, serves as good a purpose as the hawk nailed to the barn-door.
Էջ 51 - Disraeli and he formed at the moment a finely-contrasted picture. Understanding his game perfectly, the author deferred, constantly and adroitly, to the opinion of his noble listener, shaped his argument by his suggestions, allowed him to say nothing without using it as the nucleus of some new turn to his eloquence, and all this, with an apparent effort against it, as if he had desired to address himself exclusively to Lady Blessington, but was compelled, by a superior intellectual magnetism, to...
Էջ 48 - Genius," says the best philosophical book I know of, " wherever it is found, and to whatever purpose directed, is mental power. It distinguishes the man of fine phrensy, as Shakspeare expresses it, from the man of mere phrensy. It is a sort of instantaneous insight, that gives us knowledge without going to school for it. Sometimes it is directed to one subject, sometimes to another ; but under whatever form it exhibits itself, it enables the individual who possesses it, to make a wonderful, and almost...
Էջ 150 - In literature we are no longer a distinct nation. The triumph of Atlantic steam navigation has driven the smaller drop into the larger, and London has become the centre. Farewell nationality ! The English language now marks the limits of a new literary empire, and America is a suburb. Our themes, our resources, the disappearing savage, and the retiring wilderness, the free...
Էջ 112 - ... as for a goddess, Who must be pillow'd, like high vesper, nightly On couch ethereal ! Be the curtains fleecy, Like vesper's fairest, when calm nights are breezy — Transparent, parting — showing what they hide, Or strive to veil — by mystery deified ! The floor, gold-carpet, that her zone and boddice May lie in honor where they gently fall, Slow loosened from her form symmetrical — Like mist from sunlight. Burn, sweet odors, burn ! For incense at the altar of her pleasure! Let music breathe...
Էջ 134 - Arethusa might have eluded her lover. My own mental occupation, as we glided on, was the distribution of white villas along the shore, on spots where nature seemed to have arranged the ground for their reception. I saw thousands of sites where the lawns were made, the terraces defined and levelled, the groves tastefully clumped, the ancient trees ready with their broad shadows, the approaches to the water laid out, the banks sloped, and in everything the labor of art seemingly all anticipated by...
Էջ 128 - Omega, put their steersmanship to the test ; and, when the leaves are off the trees, it is a curious sight to see the bulky monsters, shining with new boards, whirling around in the swift eddies, and, when caught by the current again, gliding off among the trees, like a singing and swearing phantom of an unfinished barn. At the village they take wheat and pork into the arks, load their rafts with plank and shingles, and wait for the return of the freshet. It is a fact you may not know, that, when...

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