John BrentTicknor and Fields, 1865 - 359 էջ |
Բովանդակություն
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Այլ խմբագրություններ - View all
Common terms and phrases
Armstrong band of horses beautiful better Biddulph brave Bridger brother brutes camp CHAPTER cheerful Clitheroe's coal-mine comrade daugh daughter dear Don Fulano DRAPETOMANIA dwarf Ellen England eyes face faith fancy father fellow Fort Bridger Fort Laramie gallop gave gentle Gentleman Hugh Gerrian goan gone grass gray gray wolf grew hand head heard heart Hippodamos hoofs hope horse Jake Shamberlain Jim Robinson John Brent journey knew lady Lancashire Laramie Larrap look Luggernel Alley miles Miss Clitheroe Mormon caravan morning mountains Murker never nigger night noble Padiham Pathie Pendle Hill perhaps Pike plains poor prairie pretty Pumps quartz ride rode rough Ruby Saints scene seemed seen Short's Cut-off Sizzum soul story stranger Swerger Sybaris talk thar thought took train turned voice Wade wagon walked whisper woman words wounded young
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Էջ 57 - I love all waste And solitary places ; where we taste The pleasure of believing what we see Is boundless, as we wish our souls to be : And such was this wide ocean, and this shore More barren than its billows.
Էջ 216 - Per me si va nella città dolente, Per me si va nell' eterno dolore : Per me si va tra la perduta gente. Lasciate ogni speranza voi ch
Էջ 222 - Now, Brent! up behind me!" I whispered, — for the awe of death was upon us. I mounted. Brent sprang up behind. I ride light for a tall man. Brent is the slightest body of an athlete I ever saw. Fulano stood steady till we were firm in our seats. Then he tore down the defile. Here was that vast reserve of power; here the tireless spirit; here the hoof striking true as a thunderbolt, where the brave eye saw footing; here that writhing agony of speed; here the great promise fulfilled, the great heart...
Էջ 223 - ... slippery rocks, over the sheeny pavement, plunging through the loose stones, staggering over the barricades, leaping the arroyo, down, up, on, always on, — on went the horse, we clinging as we might. It seemed one beat of time, it seemed an eternity, when between the ring of the hoofs I heard Brent whisper in my ear. "We are there.
Էջ 14 - Mexican caballo, and, tethering him to a bush with the lariat, stood watching the splendid motions of this free steed of the prairie. He was an American horse, — so they distinguish in California one brought from the old States, — A SUPERB YOUNG STALLION, PERFECTLY BLACK, WITHOUT MARK. It was magnificent to see him, as he circled about me, fire in his eye, pride in his nostril, tail flying like a banner, power and grace from tip to tip. No one would ever mount him, or ride him, unless it was...
Էջ 204 - He had told his story, he had spoken his errand, he breathed not a word; but with his lean, pallid face set hard, his gentle blue eyes scourged of their kindliness and fixed upon those distant mountains where his vengeance lay, he rode on like a relentless fate. Next in the line I galloped. Oh, my glorious black! The great killing pace seemed mere playful canter to him, — such as one might ride beside a timid girl, thrilling with her first free dash over a flowery common, or a golden beach between...
Էջ 30 - ... forward. The black gave a tearing bound, and quickened his pace, but still waited the will of his pursuer. They were just upon us, chased and chaser, thundering down the slope, when the herdsman, checking his wrist at the turn, flung his lasso straight as an arrow for the black's proud head.
Էջ 30 - Hurrah ! Through it went the black ! With one brave bound he dashed through the open loop. He touched only to spurn its vain assault with his hindmost hoof. "Hurrah!
Էջ 28 - It was grand to see a horse that understood and respected himself so perfectly. One, too, that meant the world should know that he was the very chiefest chief of his race, proud with the blood of a thousand kings. How masterly he looked ! How untamably he stepped ! The herd was galloping furiously.
Էջ 222 - Fulano ! I rode with a snaffle. I left it hanging loose. I did not check or guide him. He saw all. He knew all. All was his doing. We sat firm, clinging as we could, as we must. Fulano dashed along the resounding pass. Armstrong pressed after, - — the gaunt white horse struggled to emulate his leader. Presently we lost them behind the curves of the Alley. No other horse that ever lived could have held with the black in that headlong gallop to save. Over the slippery rocks...