Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Volume 7Harper's Magazine Company, 1913 - American literature |
From inside the book
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Page 67
... feel the sense of such dishonor . The still more wretched mother retaliated , as perhaps no mother ever retaliated before . She told her son , to his face , and in the presence of others , that he was of ignoble birth , that her husband ...
... feel the sense of such dishonor . The still more wretched mother retaliated , as perhaps no mother ever retaliated before . She told her son , to his face , and in the presence of others , that he was of ignoble birth , that her husband ...
Page 79
... feel how gentle she was in sorrow , as she was serene - it ended with a blessing , and a tear had made in her days of joy . But I comforted myself I decided that Jennie , good as she was - dear , lov- ing , noble - could not comprehend ...
... feel how gentle she was in sorrow , as she was serene - it ended with a blessing , and a tear had made in her days of joy . But I comforted myself I decided that Jennie , good as she was - dear , lov- ing , noble - could not comprehend ...
Page 84
... feel love , and kind- ness , and pity . titude of sins with so little charity to cover them ! Of Mr. Congreve's contribution to the English stock of benevolence , I don't speak ; for , of any moral legacy to posterity , I doubt whether ...
... feel love , and kind- ness , and pity . titude of sins with so little charity to cover them ! Of Mr. Congreve's contribution to the English stock of benevolence , I don't speak ; for , of any moral legacy to posterity , I doubt whether ...
Page 86
... feel and relish Allworthy's goodness in Tom Jones , and Doctor Harrison's in Amelia , and dear Parson Adams , and Joseph Andrews . We love to read ; we may grow ever so old , but we love to read of them still - of love and beauty , of ...
... feel and relish Allworthy's goodness in Tom Jones , and Doctor Harrison's in Amelia , and dear Parson Adams , and Joseph Andrews . We love to read ; we may grow ever so old , but we love to read of them still - of love and beauty , of ...
Page 87
... feels happier and better for know- ing them , as one does for being brought into the society of very good men and women . The at- mosphere in which these people live is whole- some to breathe in ; you feel that to be allowed to speak to ...
... feels happier and better for know- ing them , as one does for being brought into the society of very good men and women . The at- mosphere in which these people live is whole- some to breathe in ; you feel that to be allowed to speak to ...
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Common terms and phrases
American animals appeared arms army Austria Bagnet beautiful better body Bucket called Charles IV child Cuzco Danube dear door Emperor England English eyes face father feel feet fire France Frémont French gentleman George girl give ground hand head heard heart Hester honor horse Horseshoe Fall hour huacas hundred Inca Indians islands JOHN S. C. ABBOTT kind king Lady Dedlock look Lord John Russell Mabel Manco Capac ment miles mind Monticello morning mother mountain Napoleon never night noble Pachacamac palace passed peace Peru Peruvians poor present Prince returned river rocks Russia scene seemed side Sir Leicester Dedlock smile soon Spain Spanish spirit stone teetotal tell thing thought thousand tion took town troops turned vessel voice walls whole woman words young
Popular passages
Page 2 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 357 - What things have we seen Done at the Mermaid! Heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame As if that every one from whence they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life.
Page 1 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 4 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?
Page 6 - Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth A youth, to Fortune and to Fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth. And Melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Page 6 - THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, . Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear: He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
Page 5 - E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely Contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Page 331 - Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow...
Page 331 - We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning.
Page 2 - Await alike the inevitable hour; The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where, through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.