Rambles Among the Hills in the Peak of Derbyshire, and the South Downs

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Сторінка 170 - The cemetery is an open space among the ruins, covered in winter with violets and daisies. It might make one in love with death, to think that one should be buried in so sweet a place.
Сторінка 173 - The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark, When neither is attended ; and, I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day, When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren.
Сторінка 17 - A History of Greek Sculpture, from the Earliest Times down to the age of Pheidias. By AS MURRAY.
Сторінка 229 - Aristotle's fashion :—Why is it that the oxen, the swine, the women, and all other animals, are so long-legged in Sussex ? May it be from the difficulty of pulling the feet out of so much mud by the strength of the ankle, that the muscles get stretched, as it were, and the bones lengthened...
Сторінка 221 - The rattle and hurry of the journey so perfectly roused it that, when I turned it out on a border, it walked twice down to the bottom of my garden ; however, in the evening, the weather being cold, it buried itself in the loose mould, and continues still concealed.
Сторінка 45 - Matie hathe sett downe this hard sentence agaynst me, to my perpetual infamy and dishonour, to be ruled and overranne by my wief, so bad and wicked a woman...
Сторінка 196 - The Village and Church of Ditchling lie below — a village in which a Jew peddler, once upon a time, murdered an innkeeper, his wife and their servant, and was for these crimes hanged upon a scaffold hard by. A piece of the gibbet, as the local histories bear witness, was long considered a certain cure for toothache.
Сторінка 69 - And Mr. Jennings, in his delightful " Rambles among the Hills," just published, describing Charles Cotton's pew in the old church at Alstonfield, says, " It was elaborately carved, and of good old oak, but had received a thick coat of green paint at the hands of some barbarian many years before.
Сторінка 170 - WHERE holy ground begins, unhallowed ends, Is marked by no distinguishable line ; The turf unites, the pathways intertwine ; And, wheresoe'er the stealing footstep tends, Garden, and that Domain where kindred, friends, And neighbours rest together, here confound Their several features, mingled like the sound Of many waters, or as evening blends With shady night.
Сторінка 276 - The tradition of the neighbourhood is, that the skull belonged to a man who murdered an owner of the house, and marks of blood are pointed out on the floor of the adjoining room, where the murder is supposed to have been committed, and which no washing will remove.

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