Homespun: Or, Five and Twenty Years AgoHurd and Houghton, 1867 - 346 pagina's |
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Pagina vii
... realm indeed must be the human heart that loves the World better than Home - politeness rather than truth - others more than its own . The man in whom the do- mestic feeling awaits development , is yet to discover the PREFACE . vii.
... realm indeed must be the human heart that loves the World better than Home - politeness rather than truth - others more than its own . The man in whom the do- mestic feeling awaits development , is yet to discover the PREFACE . vii.
Pagina 20
... human heart builds no altars . It sends its aspirations to heaven through no soot - begrimed pipes . It waits upon the turn of no tinman's clumsy " flues " and " dampers . " Unless its senti- ments be warmed in the blaze of a genial ...
... human heart builds no altars . It sends its aspirations to heaven through no soot - begrimed pipes . It waits upon the turn of no tinman's clumsy " flues " and " dampers . " Unless its senti- ments be warmed in the blaze of a genial ...
Pagina 35
... . It gives me a secret pleasure then to roll past lordly farm - houses , catching glimpses of smok- ing cattle about the barn doors , or signs of in- quisitive human life at the front windows ; or sounds RAINY DAYS . 35.
... . It gives me a secret pleasure then to roll past lordly farm - houses , catching glimpses of smok- ing cattle about the barn doors , or signs of in- quisitive human life at the front windows ; or sounds RAINY DAYS . 35.
Pagina 36
Or, Five and Twenty Years Ago George Canning Hill. quisitive human life at the front windows ; or sounds of responsive threshing - flails from the barns on far - off hill - sides , of barking watch- dogs , and shrill chanticleer in the ...
Or, Five and Twenty Years Ago George Canning Hill. quisitive human life at the front windows ; or sounds of responsive threshing - flails from the barns on far - off hill - sides , of barking watch- dogs , and shrill chanticleer in the ...
Pagina 37
... human pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man . " " There is no ancient gentlemen , " says the grave - digger in Hamlet , " but gardeners , ditch- ers , and grave - makers ; they hold up Adam's profession ...
... human pleasures ; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man . " " There is no ancient gentlemen , " says the grave - digger in Hamlet , " but gardeners , ditch- ers , and grave - makers ; they hold up Adam's profession ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
afternoon alder autumn barn beautiful boys brown houses cattle Chanticleer chilblains cial Cock-a-doodle-do comes corner country lawyer cows cranberry crowd day's delight domestic door doub England eyes face family party farm farmers feel feet fire floor fresh garden gather geese genuine girls grass green hand hard head heart hearth Henry Wotton hickory hill-sides hirsute horse hour keep kitchen live look melan ment milk minister morning mother nest never night offi once pastures perhaps pleasure Pleiades Porringer Postmaster poultry rain ready rience road roof season sentiment side snow snug soon sort soul sound spirit stand summer Sunday sweet talk tavern Thanksgiving things thought tion town trees turkeys voice wall warm weather whole winter woods yard yellow young
Populaire passages
Pagina 176 - I'll be as certain to make him a good dish of meat, as I was to catch him. I'll now lead you to an honest ale-house where we shall find a cleanly room, lavender in the windows, and twenty ballads stuck about the wall...
Pagina 39 - God Almighty first planted a garden; and, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man...
Pagina 50 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...
Pagina 173 - No, Sir ; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.
Pagina 39 - Almost all you see," said the good old man, " is the work of my own hands, though I am bordering on eighty years of age. My old woman does the weeding, and John mows the turf and digs for me ; but all the nicer work — the sowing, grafting, budding, transplanting, and the like — I trust to no other hand but my own — so long, at least, as my health will allow me to enjoy so pleasing an occupation ; and, in good sooth, the fruits here taste more sweet, and the flowers have a richer perfume, than...
Pagina iii - Happy he whom neither wealth nor fashion, Nor the march of the encroaching city, Drives an exile From the hearth of his ancestral homestead. We may build more splendid habitations, Fill our rooms with paintings and with sculptures, But we cannot Buy with gold the old associations ! CATAWBA WINE.
Pagina 18 - Above the wood which grides and clangs Its leafless ribs and iron horns Together, in the drifts that pass To darken on the rolling brine That breaks the coast. But fetch the wine. Arrange the board and brim the glass; Bring in great logs and let them lie, To make a solid core of heat; Be cheerful-minded, talk and treat Of all things ev'n as he were by; We keep the day.
Pagina 45 - To be right in the rnidst of your own growing vegetables ; to behold the favorite sunflowers all turned to the east ; to watch the beansprouts, coming up with their twin leaves out of the cleft heart of the seed ; to shave down ranks of red-stemmed weeds with a single sweep of the bright hoe ; to brush your peas, pole your beans, set frames to support your cucumbers and tomatoes, trim your young hedges, hunt the bugs among the squash vines, and plan new paths through beds of vegetables and rows of...
Pagina 188 - Decws et tutamen in armis." There he is in the saddle now ! How proudly that best piece of horse-flesh in the county takes his martial paces across the turf he spurns ! How gayly glitter the epaulettes of his rider — how gracefully waves his plume — how noisily jingle his regimental trappings! He must assuredly feel as if the neck of his steed was