Yesterdays with AuthorsJ. R. Osgood, 1872 - 352 стор. |
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admirable affectionate America arrived asked Athenæum Club beautiful Bennoch bless Boston called CHARLES DICKENS charming cheerful Chorley Cobham Park copy David Copperfield dear Felton dear friend delightful Dickens's dinner Dolby edition England English fancy feel Fields Gad's Hill Gad's Hill Place genius give half hand happy Hawthorne Hawthorne's hear heard heart Holmes hope interest John Ruskin kind knew lady literary living London Longfellow look Louis Napoleon Marble Faun Mary Mitford miles mind Miss Mitford morning Nathaniel Hawthorne never night once person pleasure poem poet poor portrait remember Romance Scarlet Letter seemed sent soon story Street SWALLOWFIELD talk tell Thackeray thank things thought Ticknor to-day told Twice-Told Tales volume walk week Wilkie Collins wish wonder words write written wrote young
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Сторінка 249 - The other turns to a mirth-moving jest, Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor, Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished ; So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Сторінка 5 - I thank God, her death was as easy as her life was innocent ; and as it cost her not a groan, or even a sigh, there is yet upon her countenance such an expression of tranquillity, nay, almost of pleasure, that it is even amiable to behold it.
Сторінка 36 - ... rocks, lay in the heart of this pure radiance, and there a wooden crane, used in the quarry below, was so placed as to assume the figure of a cross ; there it was, unmistakable, lifted up against the crystalline sky. All three gazed at it silently. As they gazed, he gave utterance in a tremulous, gentle, and rapid voice, to what all were feeling, in the word " CALVARY ! " The friends walked on in silence, and then turned to other things.
Сторінка 115 - I am not quite up to writing yet, but shall make an effort as soon as I see any hope of success. You ought to be thankful that (like most other broken-down authors) I do not pester you with decrepit pages, and insist upon your accepting them as full of the old spirit and vigor. That trouble, perhaps, still awaits you, after I shall have reached a further stage of decay. Seriously, my mind has, for the present, lost its temper and its fine edge, and I have an instinct that I had better keep quiet....
Сторінка 171 - I commit my soul to the mercy of God through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ; and I exhort my dear children humbly to try to guide themselves by the teaching of the New Testament in its broad spirit, and to put no faith in any man's narrow construction of its letter here or there.
Сторінка 63 - They precisely suit my taste, — solid and substantial, written on the strength of beef and through the inspiration of ale, and just as real as if some giant had hewn a great lump of earth and put it under a glass case, with all its inhabitants going about their daily business, and not suspecting that they were being made a show of.
Сторінка 124 - I only hear above his place of rest Their tender undertone, The infinite longings of a troubled breast, The voice so like his own. There in seclusion and remote from men The wizard hand lies cold, Which at its topmost speed let fall the pen, And left the tale half told. Ah ! who shall lift that wand of magic power, And the lost clew regain ? The unfinished window in Aladdin's tower Unfinished must remain ! CHRISTMAS BELLS.
Сторінка 264 - No spring, nor summer beauty hath such grace, As I have seen in one autumnal face.
Сторінка 71 - The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy ; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life •uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted...
Сторінка 36 - We cannot resist here recalling one Sunday evening in December, when he was walking with two friends along the Dean Road, to the west of Edinburgh — one of the noblest outlets to any city. It was a lovely evening, — such a sunset as one never forgets ; a rich dark bar of cloud hovered over the sun, going down behind the Highland hills, lying bathed in amethystine bloom ; between this cloud and the hills there was a narrow slip of the pure ether, of a tender cowslip...