A Tour in a Phaeton Through the Eastern Counties

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Richard Bentley & Son, 1889 - 403 psl.
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Populiarios ištraukos

266 psl. - I pity the man who can travel from Dan. to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis all barren and so it is; and so is all the world to him, who will not cultivate the fruits it offers.
172 psl. - Were I in my castle of Bungey Upon the river of Waveney I would ne care for the king of Cockeney...
141 psl. - A swarm of bees in May Is worth a load of hay ; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; But a swarm in July Is not worth a fly.
386 psl. - ... wandering far and few A longing long unfelt, a deep-drawn sighing For. the far Spirit-World o'erpowers me now; My song's faint voice sinks fainter, like the dying Tones of the wind-harp swinging from the bough, And my changed heart throbs warm, no more denying Tears to my eyes, or sadness to my brow: The near afar off seems, the distant nigh, The now a dream, the past reality.
114 psl. - Resigned unto the heavenly will, His son keeps on the business still.
291 psl. - I've the very carving knife and fork that that gentleman used when he was here ; ivory-mounted they are, they go with the hotel, and were handed to me when I took it.
332 psl. - And of all manner of debtors pious people building churches they can't pay for, are the most detestable nonsense to me. Can't you preach and pray behind the hedges— or in a sandpit— or a coalhole— first? And of all manner of churches thus idiotically built, iron churches are the damnablest to me. And of all...
77 psl. - O mortall folke! you may beholde and se Howe I lye here, sometime a myghty knyght; The end of joye and all prosperite Is deth at last, through his course and myght; After the day there cometh the derke night; For though the day be never so longe, At last the belles ringeth to evensonge.
16 psl. - Such a prodigious valley, everywhere painted with the finest verdure, and intersected with numberless hedges and woods, appears beneath you that it is past description; the Thames winding through it, full of ships, and bounded by the hills of Kent. Nothing can exceed this amazing prospect, unless it be that which Hannibal exhibited to his disconsolate troops when he bade them behold the glories of the .Italian plains...
111 psl. - Palseologus, one of the last members of the Imperial line descended from the old Greek Emperors of Constantinople. The churchyard contains no very curious epitaphs, unless it be the following, which has been often printed, in memory of John Turner : — My sledge and hammer lie declined, My bellows have quite lost their wind, My fire's extinct, my forge decayed, My vice is in the dust all laid.

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