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affection alchemist Antonio appeared approached attention beauty become brought called chamber Christy completely considered continually curiosity daughter death Don Ambrosio door Drawn endeavored English eyes face fair father favorite feel felt friends garden gave girl give Grenada Hall hand head heard heart horse idea Inez keep kind lady length light lived look lover Master Simon mentioned mind mysterious nature never night noticed observed once passed passion person play poor present received remained retired ruin scene secret seemed seen servants soon sound spirits sport Squire story student Stuoent of Salamanca suffer taken talk tender thing thought tion took tower trees true turned voice walks whole window worthy young youthful
Página 42 - Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away. For, lo, the winter is past, The rain is over and gone ; The flowers appear on the earth ; The time of the singing of birds is come, And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land ; The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, And the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.
Página 3 - It has been a matter of marvel, to my European readers, that a man from the wilds of America should express himself in tolerable English. I was looked upon as something new and strange in literature ; a kind of demi-savage, with a feather in his hand, instead of on his head; and there was a curiosity to hear what such a being had to say about civilized society.
Página 110 - ... negus, and a spoon; sipping and stirring, and meditating and sipping, until nothing was left but the spoon. He gradually fell asleep bolt upright in his chair, with the empty glass standing before him; and the candle seemed to fall asleep too, for the wick grew long, and black, and cabbaged at the end, and dimmed the little light that remained in the chamber.
Página 108 - Twas plain, then, he was no radical, but a faithful subject; one who grew loyal over his bottle, and was ready to stand by king and constitution, when he could stand by nothing else. But who could he be? My conjectures began to run wild. Was he not some personage of distinction traveling incog.?
Página 100 - ... patter, patter, patter, excepting that now and then I was enlivened by the idea of a brisk shower, from the rattling of the drops upon a passing umbrella. It was quite refreshing (if I may be allowed a hackneyed phrase of the day) when in the course of the morning a horn blew, and a stage-coach whirled through the street with outside passengers stuck all over it, cowering under cotton umbrellas, and seethed together, and reeking with the steams of wet box-coats and upper Benjamins. The sound...
Página 93 - I was still feverish, and was obliged to keep within doors all day, in an inn of the small town of Derby. A wet Sunday in a country inn ! — whoever has had the luck to experience one can alone judge of my situation.
Página 35 - From seventeen years till now almost fourscore Here lived I, but now live here no more. At seventeen years many their fortunes seek, But at fourscore it is too late a week: Yet fortune cannot recompense me better Than to die well and not my master's debtor.
Página 109 - He had kept my fancy in chase during a long day, and it was not now to be diverted from the scent. The evening gradually wore away. The travellers read the papers two or three times over. Some drew round the fire and told long stories about their horses, about their adventures, their overturns, and breakings-down.
Página 105 - She'd have no such doings in her house, she'd warrant! If gentlemen did spend money freely, it was no rule. She'd have no servant maids of hers treated in that way, when they were about their work, that's what she wouldn't!" As I hate squabbles, particularly with women, and above all with pretty women, I slunk back into my room, and partly closed the door; but my curiosity was too much excited not to listen. The landlady marched intrepidly to the enemy's citadel, and entered it with a storm. The...
Página 110 - The church-bells chimed midnight. All at once the stout gentleman began to walk overhead, pacing slowly backwards and forwards. There was something extremely awful in all this, especially to one in my state of nerves. These ghastly great-coats, these guttural breathings, and the creaking footsteps of this mysterious being. His steps grew fainter and fainter, and at length died away. I could bear it no longer. I was wound up to the desperation of a hero of romance. "Be he who or what he may," said...