My life, by the author of 'Stories of Waterloo'. |
Inni boken
Resultat 1-5 av 98
Side xiii
... returned to town , and were now resident at Ibbotson's . And had the wild - looking gentleman actually become a Be- nedict , and an heiress committed her happiness to his custody ? My curiosity was roused - I longed to learn the history ...
... returned to town , and were now resident at Ibbotson's . And had the wild - looking gentleman actually become a Be- nedict , and an heiress committed her happiness to his custody ? My curiosity was roused - I longed to learn the history ...
Side 4
... returned " fairly kilt wid run- nin , " to announce the advent of the doctor , so soon as Biddy Boyle , his favourite hand - maiden , could manage " to shake him into his clothes . " Let critics say what they please , in the best ...
... returned " fairly kilt wid run- nin , " to announce the advent of the doctor , so soon as Biddy Boyle , his favourite hand - maiden , could manage " to shake him into his clothes . " Let critics say what they please , in the best ...
Side 11
... returned the executioner , " Massa Browne , me not paid last job . Him jailor there , him dam rogue ; him promise a one pound - note , besides the clothes . " did " Ay , Snowball , ” replied the accused , “ and with ye not get every rag ...
... returned the executioner , " Massa Browne , me not paid last job . Him jailor there , him dam rogue ; him promise a one pound - note , besides the clothes . " did " Ay , Snowball , ” replied the accused , “ and with ye not get every rag ...
Side 12
... returned the convict , " Connor , that was hung in Fox- ford , fired the shot that killed him . " " Who murdered Peter Donovan ? " said the confessor . " How do I know ? I was in Roscommon the night it happened . " " You fired at Mr. O ...
... returned the convict , " Connor , that was hung in Fox- ford , fired the shot that killed him . " " Who murdered Peter Donovan ? " said the confessor . " How do I know ? I was in Roscommon the night it happened . " " You fired at Mr. O ...
Side 19
... returned , the fatal news was certified . " Och , murder ! " said Mr. O'Tool ; " the Right Hanarable will hang us every mother Anglice , " A glass - full , Pat . " + Corporal , darling . sowl ! Come along some of ye ; " and MY LIFE . 19.
... returned , the fatal news was certified . " Och , murder ! " said Mr. O'Tool ; " the Right Hanarable will hang us every mother Anglice , " A glass - full , Pat . " + Corporal , darling . sowl ! Come along some of ye ; " and MY LIFE . 19.
Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
alarm Annette appeared Arrah Aylmer beautiful bless Brussels Cæsar Blake Captain Blake carriage Casey Castle Blake Castlebar chamber Clifden coach colonel commander companion cousin crossed curricle cynic Daly daugh daughter dear Dear Phoebe Denis O'Brien Donovan door Dorset Street drove Ellen Emily exclaimed eyes fair fancy father favour fear fellow fortune Foxford French gallant Galway Genappe gentleman girl grandfather hand Harriette Harrison heard heart Heaven honour horse hour hurried Jack the Devil Jack's kinsman lady leave letter light little colonel looked Lord Loughrea madam Manus Blake ment Miss mistress morning mother murder never night O'Moore passed person Phoebe pistol poor regiment replied retired returned royalists ruffians ruin scene scoundrel Sedley servant short smiled soldier soubrette Stainsbury stopped stranger street tell tête-à-tête thought tion to-morrow told took town turned voice wild wretched young Zounds
Populære avsnitt
Side 154 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war...
Side 70 - Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower! For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be...
Side 117 - Last noon beheld them full of lusty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshalling in arms - the day Battle's magnificently stern array...
Side 240 - Oh! too convincing — dangerously dear — In woman's eye the unanswerable tear ! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue — at once her spear and shield: Avoid it — Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers ! What lost a world, and hade a hero fly ? The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Side 192 - You stole her from me ; like a thief you stole her, At dead of night ! that cursed hour you chose To rifle me of all my heart held dear. May all your joys in her prove false, like mine ! A sterile fortune and a barren bed Attend you both : continual discord make Your days and nights bitter, and grievous still ! May the hard hand of a vexatious need Oppress and grind...
Side 104 - Oh, have you e'er heard of Kate Kearney? She lives on the banks of Killarney; From the glance of her eye, Shun danger and fly, For fatal's the glance of Kate Kearney.
Side 51 - And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Side 197 - Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, Nor written thus in vain — Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, Or deepen every stain : If thou hadst died as honour dies, Some new Napoleon might arise, To shame the world again — But who would soar the solar height, To set in such a starless night ? Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust Is vile as vulgar clay; Thy scales, Mortality!
Side 81 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Side 55 - It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so ; A gentlemanly distance, not too near, If you have got a former friend for foe ; But after being fired at once or twice, The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.