Lady Baltimore

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Hurst & Company, 1906 - 406 էջ
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Էջ 397 - I stayed and saw the rhododendrons, and was preparing to journey home when the invitation came from John and Eliza. I have already said that of this wedding no word was in the papers. Kings Port by the war lost all material things, but not the others, among which precious privacy remains to her; and, O Kings Port, may you never lose your grasp of that treasure! May you never know the land where the reporter blooms, where if any joy or grief befall you, the public press rings your doorbell and demands...
Էջ 49 - I owed constancy and diligence, and so I kept at it ; and the hermit hours I spent at Court and Chancel streets grew worse as I knew better what rarely good company was ready to receive me. This Kings Port, this little city of oblivion, held, shut in with its lavender and pressed-rose memories, a handful of people who were like that great society of the world, the high society of distinguished men and women who exist no more, but who touched history with a light hand, and left their mark upon it...
Էջ 258 - ... architecture and sculpture, and ornamental land and water; but no horticulture that I have seen devised by mortal man approaches the unearthly enchantment of the azaleas at Live Oaks. It was not like seeing flowers at all; it was as if there, in the heart of the wild and mystic wood, in the gray gloom of those trees veiled and muffled in their long webs and skeins of hanging moss, a great, magic flame of rose and red and white burned steadily. You looked to see it vanish; you could not imagine...
Էջ 9 - I came to sojourn in the most appealing, the most lovely, the most wistful town in America; whose visible sadness and distinction seem also to speak audibly, speak in the sound of the quiet waves that ripple round her Southern front, speak in the church-bells on Sunday morning, and breathe not only in the soft salt air, but in the perfume of every gentle, oldfashioned rose that blooms behind the high garden walls of falling mellow-tinted plaster : Kings Port the retrospective, Kings Port the belated,...
Էջ 66 - Yes, that's it; that's all it," he mused. " You do understand." But I had to finish my flight. " Such quiet faces are gone now in the breathless, competing North: ground into oblivion between the clashing trades of the competing men and the clashing jewels and chandeliers of their competing wives — while yours have lingered on, spared by your very adversity.
Էջ 65 - ... fathers, back and back to the old beginnings, to Plymouth and Roanoke and Rip Van Winkle! It's all gone, all done, all over. You have to be a small, well-knit country for that sort of exquisite personal unitedness. There's nothing united about these States any more, except Standard Oil and discontent. We're no longer a small people living and dying for a great idea; we're a big people living and dying for money.
Էջ 259 - ... trees veiled and muffled in their long webs and skeins of hanging moss, a great, magic flame of rose and red and white burned steadily. You looked to see it vanish ; you could not imagine such a thing would stay. All idea of individual petals or species was swept away in this glowing maze of splendor, this transparent labyrinth of rose and red and white, through which you looked beyond, into the gray gloom of the hanging moss and the depths of the wild forest trees. I turned back as often as...
Էջ 175 - They will get better results in civilization by giving votes to monkeys than teaching Henry Wadsworth Longfellow to niggers." The response: We need not expect a Confucius from the negro, nor yet a Chesterfield; but I am an enemy also of that blind and base hate against him, which conducts nowhere save to the de-civilizing of white and black alike. Who brought him here? Did lie invite himself?
Էջ 177 - ... the agglomerate rags that stuffed holes in decaying roofs or hung nakedly on human frames, the small, choked dwellings, bursting open at doors and windows with black, round-eyed babies as an overripe melon bursts with seeds, the children playing marbles in the court, the parents playing cards in the room, the grandparents smoking pipes on the porch, and the great-grandparents upstairs gazing out at you like creatures from the Old Testament or the jungle. From the jungle we had stolen them, North...
Էջ 167 - Yes, I was obliged to believe that the young Kings Port African, left to freedom and the ballot, was a worse African than his slave parents ; but this afternoon brought me a taste of it more pungent than all the assurances in the world.

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