Between Two Oceans: Or, Sketches of American Travel

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Hurst and Blackett, 1884 - Mormons - 355 pages
 

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Page 270 - For, though conquered, they adore it! Love the cold, dead hands that bore it! Weep for those who fell before it! Pardon those who trailed and tore it! But, oh! wildly they deplore it, Now who furl and fold it so.
Page 269 - tis weary; Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary; Furl it, fold it, it is best; For there's not a man to wave it, And there's not a sword to save it, And there's not one left to lave it In the blood which heroes gave it; And its foes now scorn and brave it; Furl it, hide it— let it rest!
Page 269 - Hard that those who once unrolled it Now must furl it with a sigh! Furl that Banner — furl it sadly! Once ten thousands hailed it gladly, And ten thousands wildly, madly...
Page 157 - ... lay a Chinaman, coiled up or stretched out — like wild animals in their lair, it seemed to us — each with his little lamp and pipe and pot of opium. We watched them take a pinch of the dark jelly-like substance on a wire and melt it over the lamp, then smear it over the aperture in the pipe, and draw it with great deep breaths into the lungs, their long eyes dilating and fixing like a crouching cat's the while. Everywhere our escort seemed to be known, but the opiumsmokers were too much absorbed...
Page 39 - But these brilliant rays which fell across the American Falls, and which were turned on and off like a dissolving view, did not reach to the Horseshoe Fall away to our right. Vast, solemn, shadowy, we could just distinguish its form in the darkness, could hear the deep murmur of its awful voice. And there, between it and us, what was that we saw ? Was it some huge pale ghost standing sentinel before Niagara ? White, spectral, motionless, it rose up and reached towards the stars — shapeless, dim,...
Page 38 - ... the carwindow as we rushed through the woods, behind which the sun was sinking in a royal couch of purple and gold. Presently there was an exclamation of, ' The Falls ! the Falls !' in a tone with which Columbus might have cried, ' The land? There was a break in the woods — a flash of white — a cloud of spray tossed high above the tree-tops ; then the dark woods closed again. That glimpse, flashing upon us and passing ere we could fully realise that the great towering tumbling mass of snow...

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