The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 19

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Atlantic Monthly Company, 1867

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Page 443 - But if any provide not for his own, and specially for those of his own house, he hath denied the faith, and is worse than an infidel.
Page 186 - But this I say, brethren, the time is short. It remaineth, that both they that have wives be as though they had none; and they that weep, as though they wept not; and they that rejoice, as though they rejoiced not; and they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this world, as not abusing it: for the fashion of this world passeth away.
Page 592 - Go to the Ant, thou Sluggard, consider her ways, and be wise: which having no guide, overseer, or ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and gathereth her food in the harvest. How long wilt thou sleep, O Sluggard? when wilt thou arise out of thy sleep? Yet a little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to sleep. So shall thy poverty come as one that travelleth, and thy want as an armed man.
Page 633 - A valuable contribution to the evidences of revelation, and disposes very conclusively of the arguments of those who would set God's Works against God's Word. No real difficulty is shirked, and no sophistry is left unexposed.
Page 418 - Commission of Inquiry and Advice in Respect of the Sanitary Interests of the United States Forces...
Page 597 - Stimulants, the only mode of treatment hitherto attempted, cannot quell the disease; they do but heighten the delirium.
Page 119 - AZgon, rough and merry, A Broadway Daphnis, on his tryst With Nais at the Brooklyn Ferry. A one-eyed Cyclops halted long In tattered cloak of army pattern; And Galatea joined the throng, — A blowsy, apple-vending slattern; While old Silenus staggered out From some new-fangled lunch-house handy, And bade the piper, with a shout. To strike up Yankee Doodle Dandy!
Page 52 - Old wives spinning their webs of tow, Or rocking weirdly to and fro In and out of the peat's dull glow, And old men mending their nets of twine, Talk together of dream and sign, Talk of the lost ship Palatine, — The ship that, a hundred years before, Freighted deep with its goodly store, In the gales of the equinox went ashore. The eager islanders one by one Counted the shots of her signal gun, And heard the crash when she drove right on...
Page 150 - Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud That beautifies Aurora's face, Or like the silver crimson shroud That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace: Heigh ho, fair Rosalynde.
Page 654 - In the old French portion of the town, the thoroughfares are narrow and crooked, and some of the houses are very quaint and picturesque; being built of wood, with tumbledown galleries before the windows, approachable by stairs or rather ladders from the street. There are queer little barbers...

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