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ain't asked Aunt Moll awful beach beautiful beheld Bertha boat Brantwell bright brow calm Campbell's Captain Campbell Carl chile Christie's Courtney cried dare dark dead dear dearest death deep door DORA DEANE dreadful dream Edgar excited exclaimed eyes face fear feeling fell felt fierce forgive gazing girl glance gone hair hand head heard heart Heaven horror hour instant island isle knew lady laugh Laura light lips listened little Christie look Mark Campbell marriage Miss Sibyl morning murder never night Novel pale passed passionate Richard Eyre Richard Grove seemed shriek Sibyl Campbell silence smile soul speak Stafford stood storm storm of passion strange tell tempest terror thee thought Tom's tone trembling Uncle Reuben voice waiting waves Westport wife wild Willard Drummond wish woman words young
Page 7 - THE island lies nine leagues away. Along its solitary shore, Of craggy rock and sandy bay, No sound but ocean's roar, Save where the bold, wild sea-bird makes her home, Her shrill cry coming through the sparkling foam. But when the light winds lie at rest, And on the glassy, heaving sea, The black duck, with her glossy breast, Sits swinging silently, How beautiful ! No ripples break the reach, And silvery waves go noiseless up the beach.
Page 181 - O, that the slave had forty thousand lives ! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, lago ; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell ! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate ! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics
Page 151 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Page 338 - You shall be taken from the place where you are and be carried to the place from whence you came and from thence to the place of execution and there be severally hanged by your necks until you be dead. And may the Lord have mercy on your souls!
Page 297 - One fatal remembrance — one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes To which Life nothing darker nor brighter can bring, For which joy hath no balm — and affliction no sting.