Scribner's Magazine, Volume 5

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Edward Livermore Burlingame, Robert Bridges, Alfred Dashiell, Harlan Logan
Charles Scribners Sons, 1889 - American periodicals
 

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Page 471 - Cold on Canadian hills, or Minden's plain, Perhaps that parent wept her soldier slain — Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew, The big drops, mingling with the milk he drew, Gave the sad presage of his future years, The child of misery baptized in tears.
Page 510 - Not all the water in the rough rude sea ' Can wash the balm from an anointed king : The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord.
Page 511 - And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 196 - Orford from the next box, where he was enjoying himself with his petite partie, to help us to mince chickens. We minced seven chickens into a china dish, which Lady Caroline stewed over a lamp with three pats of butter and a flagon of water, stirring, and rattling, and laughing, and we every minute expecting to have the dish fly about our ears.
Page 474 - I am sometimes tempted to leave it alone, and see whether it will not write as well without the assistance of my head as with it. A hopeful prospect for the reader.
Page 638 - Their little tract of land serves as a kind of permanent rallying point for their domestic feelings, as a tablet upon which they are written, which makes them objects of memory in a thousand instances when they would otherwise be forgotten.
Page 122 - Wesley, who has stated the case with equal force and truth, " the sum of all is this ; one in twenty (suppose) of mankind, are elected; nineteen in twenty are reprobated! The elect shall be saved, do 'what they will : the reprobate shall be damned, do what they can.
Page 508 - To stand upon my kingdom once again. Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, Though rebels wound thee with their horses' hoofs. As a long-parted mother with her child Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles, in meeting, So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth, And do thee favor with my royal hands.
Page 196 - You may imagine the laugh this reply occasioned. After the tempest was a little calmed, the Pollard said, " Now, how anybody would spoil this story...

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