Chambers's New Reciter

Priekinis viršelis
R. C. H. Morison
W. & R. Chambers, 1901 - 496 psl.
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Populiarios ištraukos

271 psl. - The farmer's daughter hath soft brown hair; (Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese) And I met with a ballad, I can't say where, Which wholly consisted of lines like these.
6 psl. - Except now and then a stray picket Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro, By a rifleman hid in the thicket. 'Tis nothing — a private or two now and then Will not count in the news of the battle; Not an officer lost — only one of the men, Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle." All quiet along the Potomac...
69 psl. - And crimson-dyed was the river's flood. For the foe had crossed from the other side That day, in the face of a murderous fire That swept them down in its terrible ire. And their life-blood went to color the tide. "Herbert Kline! " At the call there came Two stalwart soldiers into the line, Bearing between them this Herbert Kline, Wounded and bleeding to answer his name. "Ezra Kerr!
300 psl. - He would pore by the hour, o'er a weed, or a flower, Or the slugs that come crawling out after a shower; Black-beetles, and Bumble-Bees, — Blue-bottle flies, And Moths were of no small account in his eyes; An "Industrious Flea...
224 psl. - But this figure with its head upon its hand returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly if it were real; and in the night-time saw it sitting there with fear. 'Floy!' he said. 'What is that?' 'Where, dearest?' 'There! at the bottom of the bed.
468 psl. - Being admitted to the presence he sat down before the clergyman, placed his firehat on an unfinished manuscript sermon under the minister's nose, took from it a red silk handkerchief, wiped his brow and heaved a sigh of dismal impressiveness, explanatory of his business. He choked, and even shed tears ; but with an effort he mastered his voice and said in lugubrious tones : " Are you the duck that runs the gospel-mill next door?" "Am I the — pardon me, I believe I do not understand?
339 psl. - Who stuffed that white owl?" No one spoke in the shop; The barber was busy, and he couldn't stop; The customers, waiting their turns, were all reading The Daily, the Herald, the Post, little heeding The young man who blurted out such a blunt question; Not one raised a head, or even made a suggestion; And the barber kept on shaving. "Don't you see, Mister Brown," Cried the youth, with a frown, "How wrong the whole thing is, How preposterous each wing is.
168 psl. - Into thy hands I commend my spirit! Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth!
223 psl. - But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself ; and, leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.
473 psl. - I was a drivin' at, was, that he never throwed off on his mother — don't you see? No indeedy. He give her a house to live in, and town lots, and plenty of money; and he looked after her and took care of her all the time; and when she was down with the smallpox I'md — d if he didn't set up nights and nuss her himself!

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