American Prose: Hawthorne: Irving: Longfellow: Whittier: Holmes: Lowell: Thoreau: EmersonHoughton, Mifflin, 1880 - 424 стор. |
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... ERNEST W. LONGFELLOW . Copyright , 1866 , By JOHN G. WHITTIER . Copyright , 1872 , By OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES . Copyright , 1871 , By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Copyright , 1854 , By HENRY D. THOREAU Copyright , 1882 , By MARY A. T. LOWELL AND ...
... ERNEST W. LONGFELLOW . Copyright , 1866 , By JOHN G. WHITTIER . Copyright , 1872 , By OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES . Copyright , 1871 , By JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL Copyright , 1854 , By HENRY D. THOREAU Copyright , 1882 , By MARY A. T. LOWELL AND ...
Сторінка 34
... Ernest . " Mother , " said he , while the Titanic visage smiled on him , " I wish that it could speak , for it looks so very kindly that its voice must needs be pleasant . If I were to see a man with such a face , I should love him ...
... Ernest . " Mother , " said he , while the Titanic visage smiled on him , " I wish that it could speak , for it looks so very kindly that its voice must needs be pleasant . If I were to see a man with such a face , I should love him ...
Сторінка 35
... Ernest . Pray tell me all about it ! " So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her , when she herself was younger than little Ernest ; a story , not of things that were past , but of what was yet to come ; a story ...
... Ernest . Pray tell me all about it ! " So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her , when she herself was younger than little Ernest ; a story , not of things that were past , but of what was yet to come ; a story ...
Сторінка 36
... Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him . It was always in his mind , when- ever he looked upon the Great Stone Face . He spent his childhood in the log cottage where he was born , and was dutiful to his mother , and ...
... Ernest never forgot the story that his mother told him . It was always in his mind , when- ever he looked upon the Great Stone Face . He spent his childhood in the log cottage where he was born , and was dutiful to his mother , and ...
Сторінка 39
... Ernest , meanwhile , had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great man , the noble man , the man of prophecy , after so many ages of delay , was at length to be made manifest to his native valley . He knew , boy as he was , that ...
... Ernest , meanwhile , had been deeply stirred by the idea that the great man , the noble man , the man of prophecy , after so many ages of delay , was at length to be made manifest to his native valley . He knew , boy as he was , that ...
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American Prose: Hawthorne, Irving, Longfellow, Whittier, Holmes, Lowell ... Horace Elisha Scudder Обмежений попередній перегляд - 2023 |
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Andalusia Astorga bank beautiful birds Cacabelos Cape character cloaca maxima companion cried Dame Van Winkle door dress Drowne Drowne's Dutch England Ernest eyes father feet fiery furnace figure Fort Christina Gathergold hand Hawthorne head heard heart human Indian Irving kind kingdom of Leon Knickerbocker light light-house Little Britain living look manners mind morning mother mountain nature neighborhood neighbors never night once pair passed person poet poetry poor Praise of Folly private heavens prose province Province House Rip Van Winkle Rip's round sand seemed seen side snow snow-image Spain spirit Stone Face stood story strange street termagant thought tion told took traveller tree Twice-Told Tales valley village Violet and Peony voice Washington Irving weather whole wild window woods writings young
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Сторінка 116 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers.
Сторінка 117 - At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape.
Сторінка 110 - There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity.
Сторінка 111 - A Tory! a Tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the selfimportant man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. "Well — who are they? — name them.
Сторінка 128 - what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ?" He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, welloiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten.
Сторінка 127 - ... were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange,...
Сторінка 119 - It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble.
Сторінка 126 - They were dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar ; one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugarloaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail.
Сторінка 126 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed.
Сторінка 124 - ... green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark,* here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.