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afore ain't Ancient answered arter bean't began beneath beside Black George Black Jarge blacksmith blunderbuss Brantome brow Cambourne chap Charmian chin cottage cousin cove Cragg cried Daemon dark devil door Epictetus exclaimed eyes face fell fellow fingers fists fool frowning fule Gaffer glance guineas hair hammer hand heard hedge heerd Hereupon inquired isself James Dutton John Pringle laughed leaned lips look Lord mind moon neckerchief never night nodded Old Amos once paused Pedler Peter Vibart pipe pocket Postilion Prudence Prue road rose round seemed Sefton shadow Shooter's Hill shoulder sighed Simon Sir Maurice Sir Richard Sissinghurst smile smith soft spoke staring stood stooped strong sudden suddenly sure sweet tell theer thing thought Tinker Tonbridge took trees turned voice walked watched wheer whispered woman wonder word you'm young young cove
Page 160 - All provisions of sections ninety-two, ninetythree, ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred, one hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three, one hundred and four...
Page 378 - Her name was Barbara Allen. All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin', Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen. He sent his man in to her then, To the town where she was dwellin', "O haste and come to my master dear, If your name be Barbara Allen.
Page 151 - I do not love thee, Dr. Fell, the reason why I cannot tell, But this I know and know full well, I do not love thee, Dr. Fell...
Page 356 - For her love I cark and care For her love I droop and dare For her love my bliss is bare And all I waxe wan; For her love in sleep I slake, For her love all night I wake For her love mourning I make More than any man.
Page 427 - All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin', Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen. He sent his man in to her then. To the town where she was dwellin', "O haste and come to my master dear, "If your name be Barbara Allen." So slowly, slowly rase she up, And slowly she came nigh him, And when she drew the curtain by — 'Young man, I think you're dyin'.
Page 471 - IN Scarlet town, where I was born, There was a fair maid dwellin', Made every youth cry Well-a-way! Her name was Barbara Allen. All in the merry month of May, When green buds they were swellin', Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, For love of Barbara Allen.
Page 470 - For all my chamber gan to ring Through singing of their armony. For instrument nor melody Was nowhere heard yet half so sweet Nor of accorde half so meet ; For there was none of them that feigned To sing ; for each of them him pained To find out merry crafty notes ; They ne spared not their throats.
Page 1 - I went on, ticking off each item on my fingers, " come Tom Cragg, the pugilist " " Better and better ! " nodded the Tinker. " — a one-legged soldier of the Peninsula, an adventure at a lonely tavern, a flight through woods at midnight pursued by desperate villains, and — a most extraordinary tinker. So far so good, I think, and it all sounds adventurous enough.
Page 132 - I mean that truly great books only happen, and very rarely." " But a scholar may happen to write a great book," said the Tinker. " To be sure — he may ; a book that nobody will risk publishing, and if so — a book that nobody will trouble to read, nowadays." "Why so?" " Because this is an eminently unliterary age, incapable of thought, and therefore seeking to be amused. Whereas the writing of books was once a painful art, it has of late become a trick very easy of accomplishment, requiring no...
Page 4 - As for your book, wot you have to do is to give 'em a little blood now and then with plenty of love and you can't go far wrong ! " Now whether the Tinker's theory for the writing of a good novel be right or wrong, I will not presume to say. But in this book that lies before you, though you shall read, if you choose, of country things and ways and people, yet, because that part of my life herein recorded was a something hard, rough life, you shall read also of blood ; and, because I came, in the end,...