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Review: The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.User Review - Timothy Ferguson - Goodreads
The Sketch-Book of Geoffery Crayon, Gent. by Washington Irving was revolutionary in its time, and I've meant to read or listen to it for a few years, but I feel its main appeal factors have been ... Read full review
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Review: The Sketch-Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.User Review - Goodreads
Irving is a much better writer than people think, and his nonfiction is as good as or better than his fiction. The Sketch-Book is a collection of essays with three ghost stories merged in. Two are ...
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abbey ancient antiquity arms aunts Baron beauty bosom bustling castle chamber character charms church cloisters cottage coun countenance crowd Dame Van Winkle deep delight distant door dust earth Eastcheap Edward the Confessor elegant England English Falstaff fancy feelings flowers friends funeral gaze George Somers grave hand heard heart heaven hour humble Jack Straw kind land living London Stone looked Maid's Tragedy meditation melancholy mind mingled monument mountain nature neighbouring never noble Odenwald once passed Peter Stuyvesant poem poet poetical poor pride quarto quiet racter recollection Rip Van Winkle Robert Preston Roscoe round rural scene seat seemed sepulchre silent solemn sorrow soul spectre spirit story strange stranger sweet tale tender thing thought tion tomb tower trees verger village voice wandering Wat Tyler WESTMINSTER ABBEY whole wife wild William Walworth window writers Wurtzburg young
Page 88 - Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time and of matters which he could not understand: war — congress — Stony Point. He had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" "Oh, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or three. "Oh, to be sure! That's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against...
Page 76 - ... narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended. Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted.
Page 67 - The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble.
Page 78 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.
Page 73 - Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.
Page 87 - It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors who used to keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? Name them.
Page 70 - The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.
Page 69 - If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family.
Page 90 - The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the selfimportant man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation.
Page 74 - He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark,* here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.
From Google Scholar
Sandra A Zagarell - 1987 - Tulsa Studies in Women's Literature
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