Pleasant pages (by S.P. Newcombe). [With suppl., entitled] Fireside facts from the Great exhibition, Том 1 |
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Стр. 4
... never will be respectable until you are of use . No one is respectable in this world who can do some good , and does not . If you have come into this world , and think it would be well to live , and pass through it without doing any ...
... never will be respectable until you are of use . No one is respectable in this world who can do some good , and does not . If you have come into this world , and think it would be well to live , and pass through it without doing any ...
Стр. 10
... never re- quence of the gas used for quired snuffing . Neither did lighting the streets , and the fuel the new lamps require cleaning . used for the engines of the This was the light of GAS . railways and steamboats . ' “ How are such ...
... never re- quence of the gas used for quired snuffing . Neither did lighting the streets , and the fuel the new lamps require cleaning . used for the engines of the This was the light of GAS . railways and steamboats . ' “ How are such ...
Стр. 16
... , And your heart will never fail you , even when your hair is gray . Work away , while you're able ; work away ! work away ! A JOURNAL OF INSTRUCTION FOR THE FAMILY AND THE SCHOOL 16 1st Week . Moral Song . SATURDAY . INDUSTRY. ...
... , And your heart will never fail you , even when your hair is gray . Work away , while you're able ; work away ! work away ! A JOURNAL OF INSTRUCTION FOR THE FAMILY AND THE SCHOOL 16 1st Week . Moral Song . SATURDAY . INDUSTRY. ...
Стр. 17
... never do . " Ion . That was a railroad , I suppose ? P. Yes ; it was one of the first that had been made , and the wonderful coaches the world had heard of were steam- engines - the coachman could not believe such things . But the steam ...
... never do . " Ion . That was a railroad , I suppose ? P. Yes ; it was one of the first that had been made , and the wonderful coaches the world had heard of were steam- engines - the coachman could not believe such things . But the steam ...
Стр. 18
... never liked to be still ; he was always doing some- thing . He was either observing something , or he was compar- ing things ; or he was thinking about something ; or he was listening about something , or he was imagining something , or ...
... never liked to be still ; he was always doing some- thing . He was either observing something , or he was compar- ing things ; or he was thinking about something ; or he was listening about something , or he was imagining something , or ...
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adjectives adverbs animals Anne Boleyn Arkwright barons beautiful bract Brindley building called calyx canal Church corolla cotyledons DEAR CHILDREN death Duke earth Edward Elizabeth England English father flowers Franklin gender grow heard Henry VIII HENRY YOUNG horse House of York houses improved invention Italy Jacquard James Brindley John John Lombe JOURNAL OF INSTRUCTION kind king Lady Jane Grey leaf leaves lesson letters light live London look machine Mary ment mood Moral Biography nobles notice nouns papa PARSING EXERCISE peduncle petals pistil plant poor Pope potential mood principal pronouns Queen reign remember roots seeds sentence sepals sing soon stalk stamens stem stomata streets suppose talk tell things thought tion to-day told Tower tree TUDORS verb Willie words young
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Стр. 307 - I had never before seen any of them. I bought it, read it over and over, and was much delighted with it. I thought the writing excellent, and wished, if possible, to imitate it.
Стр. 108 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. " My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The reaper said, and smiled ; " Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where he was once a child.
Стр. 176 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior!
Стр. 176 - and rest Thy weary head upon this breast !" A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered, with a sigh, Excelsior ! " Beware the pine-tree's withered branch ! Beware the awful avalanche ! " This was the peasant's last Good-night.
Стр. 108 - I have nought that is fair?" saith he; "Have nought but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me, I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
Стр. 68 - PAUSE not to dream of the future before us; Pause not to weep the wild cares that come o'er us; Hark, how Creation's deep, musical chorus, Unintermitting, goes up into heaven ! Never the ocean wave falters in flowing ; Never the little seed stops in its growing; More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. " Labor is worship ! " — the robin is singing ; "Labor is worship!
Стр. 307 - ... measure, or of different sound for the rhyme, would have laid me under a constant necessity of searching for variety, and also have tended to fix that variety in my mind, and make me master of it. Therefore I took some of the tales and turned them into verse ; and, after a time, when I had pretty well forgotten the prose, turned them back again.
Стр. 105 - He goes on Sunday to the church, And sits among his boys; He hears the parson pray and preach, He hears his daughter's voice, Singing in the village choir, And it makes his heart rejoice. It sounds to him like her mother's voice, Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Стр. 176 - At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air Excelsior ! A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.
Стр. 105 - Week in, week out, from morn till night, You can hear his bellows blow ; You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, With measured beat and slow, Like a sexton ringing the village bell, When the evening sun is low. And children coming home from school Look in at the open door ; They love to see the flaming forge, And hear the bellows roar, And catch the burning sparks that fly Like chaff from a threshing floor.