The Overland Monthly

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Samuel Carson, 1884 - Indians of North America
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Page 571 - I had rather than forty shillings, I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here.
Page 648 - God's messenger thro' the close wood screen Plunged and replunged his weapon at a venture, Feeling for guilty thee and me: then broke The thunder like a whole sea overhead — Seb.
Page 213 - I made my way to you with strong arms, through many enemies and strange lands, that I might carry back much to them. I go back with both arms broken and empty.
Page 138 - Rosalynde, Euphues Golden Legacie, found after his death in his Cell at Silexedra, bequeathed to Philautus sonnes noursed up with their father in England, Fetcht from the Canaries by TL, gent., Imprinted by T.
Page 132 - Rosalind's Madrigal Love in my bosom like a bee Doth suck his sweet; Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, His bed amidst my tender breast; My kisses are his daily feast, And yet he robs me of my rest. Ah, wanton, will ye? And if I sleep, then percheth he With pretty flight, And makes his pillow of my knee...
Page 283 - In speaking of Mrs. Delany, he said he had heard the great orator, Edmund Burke, say of her that " she was a truly great woman of fashion, that she was not only the woman of fashion of the present age, but she was the highest bred woman in the world, and the woman of fashion of all ages ; that she was high bred, great in every instance, and would continue fashionable in all ages.
Page 287 - That the Duchess of Queensberry is surprised and well pleased that the King hath given her so agreeable a command as to stay from Court, where she never came for diversion, but to bestow a great civility on the King and Queen...
Page 448 - If any man will do God's will, he shall know of the doctrine whether it be of God.
Page 139 - ... relent in deep disdain, And death his fatal stroke shall cease, And envy pity every pain, And pleasure mourn, and sorrow smile, Before I talk of any guile. First time shall stay his stayless race, And winter bless his brows with corn, And snow bemoisten July's face, And winter, spring, and summer mourn, Before my pen, by help of fame, Cease to recite thy sacred name. Montanus 'No doubt', quoth Ganymede, 'this protestation grew from one full of passions.
Page 213 - You make my feet heavy with gifts, and my moccasins will grow old in carrying them; yet the Book is not among them. When I tell my poor, blind people, after one more snow, in the big council, that I did not bring the Book...

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