Merry's Museum, Volumes 13-14

Front Cover
I.C. & J.N. Stearns, 1847 - New York (N.Y.)
0 Reviews
 

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 149 - Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep ; so shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.
Page 11 - Ruffles at speed, and dances in the wind. His horny hoofs are jetty black and round ; His chine is double ; starting with a bound He turns the turf, and shakes the solid ground. Fire from his eyes, clouds from his nostrils flow; He bears his rider headlong on the foe.
Page 137 - ... prisons; no proud and hard-hearted nabobs in Typee; or to sum up all in one word — no Money! "That root of all evil" was not to be found in the valley.
Page 45 - O joyous birds, it hath still been so; Through the halls of kings doth the tempest go! But the huts of the hamlet lie still and deep, And the hills o'er their quiet a vigil keep : Say what have ye found in the peasant's cot, Since last ye parted from that sweet spot...
Page 45 - And what have ye found in the monarch's dome, Since last ye traversed the blue sea's foam] — " We have found a change, we have found a pall, And a gloom o'ershadowing the banquet's hall, And a mark on the floor as of life-drops spilt — Nought looks the same, save the nest we built...
Page 96 - Doth not each rain-drop help to form The cool, refreshing shower, And every ray of light to warm And beautify the flower...
Page 186 - ALONE I walked the ocean strand ; A pearly shell was in my hand : I stooped and wrote upon the sand My name — the year — the day. As onward from the spot I passed, One lingering look behind I cast : A wave came rolling high and fast, And washed my lines away.
Page 23 - Then took they the body of Jesus, and wound it in linen clothes with the spices, as the manner of the Jews is to bury.
Page 19 - As the Lord thy God liveth, I have not a cake but an handful of meal in a barrel, and a little oil in a cruse and, behold, I am gathering two sticks, that I may go in and dress it for me and my son, that we may eat it, and die.
Page 180 - Robin Goodfellow : are you not he That fright the maidens of the villagery ; Skim milk ; and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; And...

Bibliographic information