The Gentleman from Indiana

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Scribner's, 1915 - Indiana - 504 pages
 

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Page 80 - The time has come," the Walrus said, " To talk of many things: Of shoes—and ships—and sealingwax— Of cabbages—and kings— And why the sea is boiling hot— And whether pigs have wings.
Page 116 - Oh dear! what can the matter be? Dear, dear! what can the matter be? Oh dear! what can the matter be?
Page 481 - We are the valiant soldiers who've 'listed for the war; We are fighting for the Union, we are fighting for the law; We can shoot a rebel farther than a white man ever saw; As we go marching on.
Page 113 - For to-night we'll merry, merry be, For to-night we'll merry, merry be, For to-night we'll merry, merry be, To-morrow we'll be sober.
Page 248 - He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword; His truth is marching on. Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah His truth is marching on.
Page 503 - She gave a hurried glance from right to left and from left to right, like one in terror seeking a way of escape; she gathered her skirts in her hand, as if to run into the garden; but suddenly she turned and ran to him — ran to him swiftly, with her great love shining from her eyes. She sank upon her knees beside him. She threw her arms about his neck and kissed him on the forehead.
Page 3 - STAT is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian Eastern travellers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their eyes to interior upholstery, preferring even the swaying caparisons of a Pullman to the monotony without. The landscape lies interminably level: bleak in winter, a desolate plain of mud and snow; hot and dusty in summer, in its flat lonesomeness, miles on miles with not one cool hill slope away from the sun.
Page 3 - It reduced at once to an absurdity the bare idea of Mr. Tarkington's ever again attempting to write a novel opening with such prosaic actuality as "There is a fertile stretch of flat lands in Indiana where unagrarian Eastern travelers, glancing from car-windows, shudder and return their eyes to interior upholstery.
Page 271 - Meredith knew; the whisper grew more distinct, and it became a rich but broken voice, and they heard it singing, like the sound of some far, halting minstrelsy: "Wave willows — murmur waters — golden sunbeams smile, Earthly music — cannot waken — lovely — Annie Lisle.

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