The Gentleman's Magazine, Volume 4; Volume 228Bradbury, Evans, 1870 - English periodicals |
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Page 5
... night , " Good night ; " and then all of a sudden my father's voice changed , as if he was going to weep , when he said again , " good night , my boy . " My mother followed me upstairs , but she did not come into my little room . The ...
... night , " Good night ; " and then all of a sudden my father's voice changed , as if he was going to weep , when he said again , " good night , my boy . " My mother followed me upstairs , but she did not come into my little room . The ...
Page 8
... night when my father sent me to bed , there was a sort of quiet warfare going on between my unhappy parents . One night , however , the storm burst furiously , and that long after I was abed . I heard my mother say she had been deceived ...
... night when my father sent me to bed , there was a sort of quiet warfare going on between my unhappy parents . One night , however , the storm burst furiously , and that long after I was abed . I heard my mother say she had been deceived ...
Page 12
... night . I know now why it was sent to me , that my vengeance should not slumber . One day little Alice was taken ill , and at night she died with her head on my shoulder . She would let no one else touch her . " Where is mamma ? " she ...
... night . I know now why it was sent to me , that my vengeance should not slumber . One day little Alice was taken ill , and at night she died with her head on my shoulder . She would let no one else touch her . " Where is mamma ? " she ...
Page 16
... Night ! go away ; the dawn sings hallali . • Thou must go to heaven , and smile , thou that weepest . Break the yoke ; throw off , monster , thy dark clothing . e O , come , beloved one ! thou art soul , I am heart . faced children ...
... Night ! go away ; the dawn sings hallali . • Thou must go to heaven , and smile , thou that weepest . Break the yoke ; throw off , monster , thy dark clothing . e O , come , beloved one ! thou art soul , I am heart . faced children ...
Page 25
... night all slept , the wolf excepted , who , from time to time , alive to his responsibility , opened an eye . The next day , in the morning , they met again . They breakfasted together , generally on ham or tea . Tea was introduced into ...
... night all slept , the wolf excepted , who , from time to time , alive to his responsibility , opened an eye . The next day , in the morning , they met again . They breakfasted together , generally on ham or tea . Tea was introduced into ...
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American Antiochus arms Beauty bézique Black Rod called cards carriage Carthage chamber Chedzoy Christian Vagabond Clancharlie Comprachicos cruisers Dahabeah dark dear declared delighted Donnington door dream England English eyes face father feel felt Flaminius Gentleman's Magazine girl give Green Box Gwynplaine hand happy Hardman head heard heart honour horse House of Lords iron-clads king knew Labouchere Lady of Charity laugh letter light Livy London looked Lord Bindley Lord Chancellor marriage Master Nicless matter Mendelssohn Jackson mind mother mountebank never night noble once passed play player poor queen round royal sail scored seemed seen sheriff ships sing Sister smile song sort soul Southwark speak Tadcaster Talbot tell thing thought Tom-Jim-Jack took trick trumps turned Ursus vessels Victor Hugo voice Wampanoag wapentake woman words yachts young
Popular passages
Page 546 - I will not be put to the question. Don't you consider, Sir, that these are not the manners of a gentleman ? I will not be baited with what and why ; what is this ? what is that ? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail bushy ?" The gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance, said, " Why, Sir, you are so good, that I venture to trouble you.
Page 198 - As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious ; Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God save him...
Page 197 - Pity it is that the momentary beauties flowing from an harmonious elocution cannot, like those of poetry, be their own record; that the animated graces of the player can live no longer than the instant breath and motion that presents them, or at best can but faintly glimmer through the memory or imperfect attestation of a few surviving spectators...
Page 65 - Doubt thou the stars are fire ; Doubt that the sun doth move ; Doubt truth to be a liar ; But never doubt I love.
Page 68 - No more be grieved at that which thou hast done: Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
Page 552 - He had thought more than any body supposed, and had a pretty good stock of general learning and knowledge. He had all Dr. Johnson's principles, with some degree of relaxation. He had rather too little, than too much prudence; and, his imagination being lively, he often said things of which the effect was very different from the intention. He resembled sometimes The best good man, with the worst natur'd muse.
Page 542 - Mr. Boswell amounted almost to pain. His eyes goggled with eagerness; he leant his ear almost on the shoulder of the Doctor; and his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable that might be uttered : nay, he seemed not only to dread losing a word, but to be anxious not to miss a breathing; as if hoping from it, latently or mystically, some information.
Page 126 - Now there is nothing in the understanding which was not before in the sense. And, therefore, to exercise the senses well about the right perceiving the differences of things, will be to lay the grounds for all wisdom, and all wise discourse, and all discreet actions in one's course of life.
Page 65 - From henceforth, this damning guilty secret became the ruling force in his life, holding him with a morbid fascination, yet filling him with remorse and anguish and insane dread of detection.
Page 197 - The painter dead, yet still he charms the eye; While England lives, his fame can never die: But he who struts his hour upon the stage, Can scarce extend his fame for half an age; Nor pen nor pencil can the actor save, The art, and artist, share one common grave.