Child Classics, Book 5Bobbs-Merrill, 1909 - Readers |
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Results 1-5 of 38
Page 24
... cried my wife ; " depend upon it , he knows what he is about . I'll warrant we'll never see him sell his hen on a ... cried Moses , with a sly look , and resting the box on the dresser . " Ay , Moses , " cried my wife , " that we know ...
... cried my wife ; " depend upon it , he knows what he is about . I'll warrant we'll never see him sell his hen on a ... cried Moses , with a sly look , and resting the box on the dresser . " Ay , Moses , " cried my wife , " that we know ...
Page 25
... cried the boy , " why won't you listen to reason ? I had them at a dead bargain , or I should not have bought them . The silver rims alone will sell for double the money . " " A fig for the silver rims ! " cried my wife in a passion ...
... cried the boy , " why won't you listen to reason ? I had them at a dead bargain , or I should not have bought them . The silver rims alone will sell for double the money . " " A fig for the silver rims ! " cried my wife in a passion ...
Page 26
... cried my wife , " not silver , the rims not silver ! " " No , " cried I , " no more silver than your saucepan . " " And so , " returned she , " we have parted with the colt , and have only got a gross of green spectacles , with copper ...
... cried my wife , " not silver , the rims not silver ! " " No , " cried I , " no more silver than your saucepan . " " And so , " returned she , " we have parted with the colt , and have only got a gross of green spectacles , with copper ...
Page 37
... cried Adams desperately , using his hand as a speaking - trumpet , for the distance between the boat and the island widened momently . Binny Wallace looked down at the sea , which was covered with whitecaps , and made a despairing ...
... cried Adams desperately , using his hand as a speaking - trumpet , for the distance between the boat and the island widened momently . Binny Wallace looked down at the sea , which was covered with whitecaps , and made a despairing ...
Page 60
... cried . " A wreck ! Close by ! " I sprang out of bed , and asked , what wreck ? " A schooner , from Spain or Portugal , laden with fruit and wine . Make haste , sir , if you want to see her ! It's thought , down on the beach , she'll go ...
... cried . " A wreck ! Close by ! " I sprang out of bed , and asked , what wreck ? " A schooner , from Spain or Portugal , laden with fruit and wine . Make haste , sir , if you want to see her ! It's thought , down on the beach , she'll go ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abridged Andy Antony arms asked Bashkirs battle bells Ben-Hur born Brutus burned Cæsar called Camelot cannon Captain chaise Cranford cried Crito dark dead deck Doctor Don Quixote Ernest eyes father fight fire fleet gave give glory hand hath head hear heard heart Hector honor horse Ichabod Indiana John Halifax JULIUS CÆSAR King knew Lady of Shalott land laughed letter live look Lord Maggie Mark Antony master Master of Ballantrae mother never night noble Pahom Phil Adams Pickwick poet poor postmaster Ralph Waldo Emerson road Robert Louis Stevenson round saddle Second Citizen seemed ship side Sigurd silent Silver simple old soul Squire Stone Face stood story tell thee thing thou thought trees turned versts walk wife wind Winkle word Zoeterwoude
Popular passages
Page 53 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 229 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too...
Page 31 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Page 166 - Far-called, our navies melt away, On dune and headland sinks the fire; Lo all our pomp of yesterday Is one with Nineveh and Tyre. Judge of the nations, spare us yet, Lest we forget, lest we forget.
Page 32 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At' that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Page 226 - Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting.place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this. But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground.
Page 303 - Has Great Britain any enemy, in this quarter of the world, to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us: they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging.
Page 278 - Caesar lov'd you. You are not wood, you are not stones, but men ; And, being men, hearing the will of Caesar, It will inflame you, it will make you mad. 'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs ; For, if you should, O, what would come of it!
Page 216 - For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths— for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You've fallen cold and dead.
Page 309 - ... full many a gem of purest ray serene the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear : full many a flower is born to blush unseen, and waste its sweetness on the desert air. some village Hampden that with dauntless breast the little tyrant of his fields withstood, some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood.