Warren Hyde

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R.F. Fenno, 1897 - 346 pages

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Page 222 - Tis not in endless striving Thy quest is found: Be still and listen; Be still and drink the quiet Of all around. Not for thy crying, Not for thy loud beseeching, Will peace draw near: Rest with palms folded, Rest with thine eyelids fallen, — Lo! peace is here.
Page 311 - Me-she-nah-ma-gwai, take hold of my hook," at last he did so, and allowed himself to be drawn up to the surface, which he had no sooner reached than, at one mouthful, he took Manabozho and his canoe down. When he came to himself, he found that he was in the fish's belly, and also his canoe. He now turned his thoughts to the way of making his escape. Looking in his canoe, he saw his war-club, with which he immediately struck the heart of the fish. He then felt a sudden motion, as if he were moving...
Page 86 - I have wanted to say this to you for a long time — I have wanted you to know that you have done me good, and that I am grateful.
Page 344 - She has not lost any of her cynicism nor any of her skill to weave a seductive plot." — Boston Globe. "There is a distinct moral purpose running all through the book, a purpose which it will be impossible for the most careless reader to overlook. " — Ths Beacon, Boston. " A clever story of English high life as it is represented to-day." — The Bookseller. "A decided story-interest and some clever character drawing.
Page 346 - A delightful story of modern life in Ireland." — Army and Navy Register. " The action of this story is free and rapid, the tone clean, and the story well managed." — Public Opinion. "This is a bright and interesting story by an always popular author.
Page 179 - He leaned back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head and looked at each of us, then smiled a peculiar lopsided smile.
Page 166 - There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy.
Page 344 - The finish of the story is as artistic as is that of ' Vanity Fair' " — N, Y, Journal. " Ouidain her old age has written her best book.
Page 157 - Blossoms and de.wdrops — at the bent spray's edgeThat 's the wise thrush ; he sings each song twice over. Lest yon should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture...
Page 305 - For a moment the room was so still that the ticking of the clock seemed clamorous.

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