The Juvenile Port-folio, and Literary Miscellany, Volum 1

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Thomas Condie
Thomas G. Condie, Jr., 1813

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Del 2
69
Del 3
125
Del 4
129
Del 5
137
Del 6
145
Del 7
157
Del 8
169
Del 9
177
Del 10
181
Del 11
197
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201
Del 13
203
Del 14
209
Del 15
213
Del 16
225

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Populære avsnitt

Side 148 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!
Side 164 - They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where all night long, by a fire-fly lamp, She paddles her white canoe.
Side 10 - Dissimulation in youth is the forerunner of perfidy in old age. Its first appearance is the fated omen of growing depravity and future shame.
Side 81 - Melancthon affords a striking lecture on the value of time, by informing us that, when he made an appointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idleness of suspense...
Side 38 - If the Spring put forth no blossoms, in Summer there will be no beauty, and in Autumn. no fruit. So if youth be trifled away without improvement, manhood will be contemptible, and old age miserable.
Side 164 - Tender-handed stroke a nettle, And it stings you for your pains ; Grasp it like a man of mettle, And it soft as silk remains.
Side 4 - EPITAPH ON AN INFANT. ERE Sin could blight or Sorrow fade, Death came with friendly care ; The opening bud to Heaven conveyed And bade it blossom there.
Side 88 - I crushed by bursts of laughter from all quarters. In vain did sir Thomas reprimand the servants, and lady Friendly chide her daughters ; for the measure of my shame and their diversion was not yet complete. To...
Side 87 - I will not relate the several blunders which I made during the first course, or the distress occasioned by my being desired to carve a fowl, or help to various dishes that stood near me, spilling a sauceboat, and knocking down a salt-cellar ; rather let me hasten to the second course, " where fresh disasters overwhelmed me quite.
Side 52 - The bee awaked and stung the child. Loud and piteous are his cries ; To Venus quick he runs, he flies ! ' Oh mother ! I am wounded through— I die with pain — in sooth I do ! Stung by some little angry thing, Some serpent on a tiny wing — A bee it was —for once, I know, I heard a rustic call it so.

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