Sadness and Gladness: A Story of the Present Day ...

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Bentley, 1848
 

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Page 149 - Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are, That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, How shall your houseless heads and unfed sides, Your loop'd and window'd raggedness, defend you From seasons such as these ? O, I have ta'en Too little care of this ! Take physic, pomp ; Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel, That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, And show the heavens more just.
Page 282 - To me thy better gifts impart, Each moral beauty of the heart By studious thought refin'd : For Wealth, the smiles of glad Content, For Pow'r, its amplest, best extent, An empire o'er my mind.
Page 257 - And the Naiad-like lily of the vale, Whom youth makes so fair and passion so pale, That the light of its tremulous bells is seen Through their pavilions of tender green...
Page 103 - No wish beyond the home where thou shouldst enter, Ever anew to find thy presence brought My life's best joy. I would be thine ! Not passion's wild emotion To show thee, fitful as the changing wind, But with a still, deep, fervent life-devotion, To be to thee the help-meet God designed — For this would I be thine P © :© HOW MUCH THERE IS THAT S BEAUTIFUL.
Page 170 - THERE is a creature who has all the organs of speech, a tolerable good capacity for conceiving what is said to it, together with a pretty proper behaviour in all the occurrences of common life; but naturally very vacant of thought in itself, and therefore forced to apply itself to foreign assistances. Of this make is that man who is very inquisitive. You may often observe, that though he speaks as good sense as any man upon any thing with which he is well acquainted, he cannot trust to the range...
Page 105 - Oh ! this steamer has brought us awful news !" he replied, as he threw himself on a chair, and buried his face in his hands.
Page 68 - 'in-pi me struprare manu. No one taught me. I could not help it; I did not know what I did it for (I was reared on a farm). The method was sitting on a chair and moving to and fro. I must have continued till I was eighteen or nineteen years old. I stopped it long before I knew it was wrong, long before I have ever read it in books. No one told me it was wrong. I was a good girl in the eyes...
Page 19 - If it be love, indeed, tell me how much ? There 's beggary in the love that may be reckoned.
Page 240 - I was once deeply interested, waited at this very gate for the carriage which was to convey her for ever from her home ; a rash step expiated by years of sorrow, and which those who loved her best could not excuse, even when they thought her home had been far from happy.

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