The Practice of Typography: Correct Composition; a Treatise on Spelling, Abbreviations, the Compounding and Division of Words, the Proper Use of Figures and Numerals, Italics and Capital Letters, Notes, Etc., with Observations on Punctuation and Proof-reading

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Century Company, 1904 - Authorship - 476 pages
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Page 314 - twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;} " No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.
Page 325 - Now we are engaged in a great civil war testing whether that nation or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live.
Page 213 - And Jacob said unto his father, I am Esau thy firstborn ; I have done according as thou badest me: arise, I pray thee, sit and eat of my venison, that thy soul may bless me.
Page 257 - Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer; Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, Just hint a fault and hesitate dislike...
Page 224 - And everybody praised the Duke Who this great fight did win.' 'But what good came of it at last?' Quoth little Peterkin: — 'Why, that I cannot tell,' said he, 'But 'twas a famous victory.
Page 162 - MR. STRAHAN, You are a member of parliament, and one of that majority which has doomed my country to destruction. — You have begun to burn our towns, and murder our people. — Look upon your hands! — They are stained with the blood of your relations ! — You and I were long friends: — You are now my enemy, — and I am • Yours, B. FRANKLIN.
Page 213 - And Isaac spake unto Abraham his father, and said, My father: and he said, here am I, my son. And he said, Behold, the fire and the wood: but where is the lamb for a burnt offering?
Page 271 - GOOD people all, with one accord, Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word— From those who spoke her praise.
Page 263 - Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars: She hath killed her beasts; she hath mingled her wine; she hath also furnished her table.
Page 266 - ... scholar's melancholy, which is emulation, nor the musician's, which is fantastical, nor the courtier's, which is proud, nor the soldier's, which is ambitious, nor the lawyer's, which is politic, nor the lady's, which is nice, nor the lover's, which is all these: but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.

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