Uncle Horace: A Novel, Հատոր 2E.L. Carey & A. Hart, 1838 |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 42–ի 1-ից 5-ը:
Էջ 6
... not a fortnight since was so rich in happiness , that but one cloud obscured a portion of my sky - I , who could not envy queens ! -I am a beggar , a perfect beggar . My hap- piness is gone , I know not why or how 6 UNCLE HORACE .
... not a fortnight since was so rich in happiness , that but one cloud obscured a portion of my sky - I , who could not envy queens ! -I am a beggar , a perfect beggar . My hap- piness is gone , I know not why or how 6 UNCLE HORACE .
Էջ 7
A Novel Mrs. S. C. Hall. piness is gone , I know not why or how : what little I have left would fit within the compass of a ring . " " But how ? Why ? " This man , this Count ! But , Ellen , do not ask me - I cannot tell you truly I have ...
A Novel Mrs. S. C. Hall. piness is gone , I know not why or how : what little I have left would fit within the compass of a ring . " " But how ? Why ? " This man , this Count ! But , Ellen , do not ask me - I cannot tell you truly I have ...
Էջ 10
... gone ten yards towards her own garden , when she heard Mary's light step bounding after her . " Ellen , bid him good - night for me , and say my mother wanted me - and -no - nothing more . " CHAPTER II . In adversity The mind grows ...
... gone ten yards towards her own garden , when she heard Mary's light step bounding after her . " Ellen , bid him good - night for me , and say my mother wanted me - and -no - nothing more . " CHAPTER II . In adversity The mind grows ...
Էջ 15
... gone abroad alone : they were so wild , so madly enthusiastic , so careless of the provident ways which hus- band a small income , that , even if I had not promised , I should have felt bound to journey with them , as they were but ...
... gone abroad alone : they were so wild , so madly enthusiastic , so careless of the provident ways which hus- band a small income , that , even if I had not promised , I should have felt bound to journey with them , as they were but ...
Էջ 17
... gone . At Venice , they believed he was a sort of water - serpent , robbing by night , and play- ing high at houses of questionable fame , with strangers . Others thought him a smuggler : some even hinted he had to do with bandits . He ...
... gone . At Venice , they believed he was a sort of water - serpent , robbing by night , and play- ing high at houses of questionable fame , with strangers . Others thought him a smuggler : some even hinted he had to do with bandits . He ...
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Common terms and phrases
agony beautiful believe Blaney bless blood bosom brother Brown Lorton called carriage cheek child Count cursed D'Oraine D'Oraine's dare daugh daughter dear Mary door dream drugget England exclaimed eyes fancied fear feelings felt forgive girl hand happy Harry Mortimer hear heard heart Heaven honour hope Horace Brown horses hour imagine inquired interrupted knew Lady Ellen Revis leave letter lips Liverpool London look Lord Norley Madame Magdalene Magdalene's Mary Mary's mind mingled Miss Lorton morning mother Muskito never night Norley's observed once ostler painful pale paused Peter Peter Pike Philip Marsden poor Portsmouth postilions pray proud racter remember repeated replied Rinelli Ryde Sare sighed silence smile sorrow Southampton speak spirit spoke suffer sure talk tears tell thing thought told tone trembling truth Tummas turned Uncle Horace utter voice whispered window wish woman words young
Սիրված հատվածներ
Էջ 1 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity; The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea: Listen!
Էջ 64 - Mystery hangs on all these desert places ! The Fear which hath no name, hath wrought a spell ! Strength, courage, wrath — have been, and left no traces ! They came, — and fled; — but whither! Who can tell ! We know but that they were, — that once (in days When ocean was a bar 'twixt man and man), Stout spirits wandered o'er these capes and bays, And perished where these river waters ran.
Էջ 181 - MEET me by moonlight alone, And then I will tell you a tale, Must be told by the moonlight alone, In the grove at the end of the vale.
Էջ 26 - Who as she smiles in the silvery light, Spreading her wings on the bosom of night, Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky, A phantom of beauty, could deem, with a sigh, That so lovely a...
Էջ 111 - Honour, my lord, is much too proud to catch At every slender twig of nice distinctions. These, for the unfeeling vulgar, may do well : But those, whose souls are by the nicer rule Of virtuous delicacy nobly swayed, Stand at another bar than that of laws.
Էջ 84 - I loved thee passing well! — thou wert a beam Of pleasant beauty on this stormy sea ! With just so much of mirth as might redeem Man from the musings of his misery ; Yet ever pensive,— like a thing from home ! Lovely and lonely as a single star ! But kind and true to me, as thou hadst come From thine own element — so very far, Only to be a cynosure to eyes Now sickening at the sunshine of the skies...
Էջ 34 - THE PAINTER. I know not which is the most fatal gift, Genius or Love, for both alike are ruled By stars of bright aspect and evil influence.
Էջ 191 - The storm of horrours that surround its close. This little term of nature's agony Will soon be o'er, and what is past is past : But shall I then,' on the dark lap of earth • Lay me to rest, in still unconsciousness, Like senseless clod that doth no pressure feel From wearing foot of daily...
Էջ 30 - The tuilors knew his value— one in particular, when he heard of La Volante's difficulties, offered him five hundred francs a week, if he would only invent, appear, and cut out collars and lappels in his establishment. La Volante felt the insult bitterly, and ordered his valet to pet the porter to kick the fellow out.
Էջ 23 - Oh ! if thou hoverest round my walk, While, under every well-known tree, I to thy fancied shadow talk, And every tear is full of thee ; Should then the weary eye of grief, Beside some sympathetic stream, In slumber find a short relief, Oh, visit thou my soothing dream ! ODE ON BOLUS'S HARP.