Bessie Wilmerton: Or, Money, and what Came of It. A NovelG. W. Carleton & Company, 1874 - Počet stran: 384 |
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Výsledky 1-5 z 36
Strana 13
... leaving behind , she dropped perhaps a few natural tears , but in no repining spirit . A bitter , unspoken sorrow , too deep to be wept for , too enduring and unavoidable to be murmured at , by a woman of her tempera- ment , filled her ...
... leaving behind , she dropped perhaps a few natural tears , but in no repining spirit . A bitter , unspoken sorrow , too deep to be wept for , too enduring and unavoidable to be murmured at , by a woman of her tempera- ment , filled her ...
Strana 14
... who would consent to take the part Mrs. Wil- merton cheerfully accepted ; few who would not shrink in dismay from the prospect of hardship and toil , leaving to their husbands , and too often to their children also , " the + +.
... who would consent to take the part Mrs. Wil- merton cheerfully accepted ; few who would not shrink in dismay from the prospect of hardship and toil , leaving to their husbands , and too often to their children also , " the + +.
Strana 20
... leaving her to nights of wretched- ness and days of suffering , it has been the lot of few to experience and sanely to survive . Ten days after the appearance of the pam- phlet which had so startled the reading world of M , another by ...
... leaving her to nights of wretched- ness and days of suffering , it has been the lot of few to experience and sanely to survive . Ten days after the appearance of the pam- phlet which had so startled the reading world of M , another by ...
Strana 40
... leaves and flowers . Some valuable pictures were hung in fine lights , and books and engravings in endless profusion strewed the tables . Two or three exquisite statuettes were placed here and there , and I had noticed in the entrance ...
... leaves and flowers . Some valuable pictures were hung in fine lights , and books and engravings in endless profusion strewed the tables . Two or three exquisite statuettes were placed here and there , and I had noticed in the entrance ...
Strana 54
... leaves rustled , and the birds sang , and merry - voiced waters leaped to the sunlight , while stately . mountains kept grim guard in the distant background . All along the high - road from the city of M- M— , for the distance of eight ...
... leaves rustled , and the birds sang , and merry - voiced waters leaped to the sunlight , while stately . mountains kept grim guard in the distant background . All along the high - road from the city of M- M— , for the distance of eight ...
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Bessie Wilmerton; Or, Money, and What Came of It: A Novel (Classic Reprint) Margaret Westcott Náhled není k dispozici. - 2018 |
Bessie Wilmerton; Or, Money, and What Came of It: A Novel (Classic Reprint) Margaret Westcott Náhled není k dispozici. - 2016 |
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asked Aymar beauty became beside Bessie Wilmerton Bessie's BETROTHED brow calm cashier CHAPTER cheek Colonel Aicheson couch COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON daguerrotype daily Dana Poinsett dear death door drawing-room Edith Ellice Manvers Erastus exclaimed eyes face father feared feel Forres Forrester Frank friends gave girl Glen-Beck GOVERNESS LIFE-MRS Grey grief hand happy heard heart honor hope hour Kate KATE-ELLICE knew lady Lawrence Esterlyn letter light Lillian lips live Lolotte looked Madame Merillat's ment Mildred's mind Miss Forrester Miss Manvers Miss Wilmerton mother never night Nurse Matty once pain papa Poulett pupils Raphael Cartoons rence replied rescuing hero returned seated seemed Seytoun silence sister smile soon sorrow stern stood Talbot Bank tears tell tender things thought tion Tommy tones floated took trouble walked Walworth and Mildred watched Willow Brook woman words
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 335 - And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle.
Strana 54 - The hills Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, — the vales Stretching in pensive quietness between ; The venerable woods — rivers that move In majesty, and the complaining brooks That make the meadows green; and, poured round all, Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste, — Are but the solemn decorations all Of the great tomb of man.
Strana 7 - If thou seest the oppression of the poor, and violent perverting of judgment and justice in a province, marvel not at the matter: for he that is higher than the highest regardeth; and there be higher than they.
Strana 160 - Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. Doth he hear it ? No. Is it insensible then ? Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer it : — therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere scutcheon/ and so ends my catechism.
Strana 160 - Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on, how then ? Can honour set to a leg ? No. Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a wound? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour ? What is that honour ? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it ? He that died o
Strana 64 - If to do were as easy as to know what were^ good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
Strana 343 - Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
Strana 260 - WHAT are we set on earth for ? Say, to toil ; Nor seek to leave thy tending of the vines For all the heat o' the day, till it declines, And Death's mild curfew shall from work assoil. God did anoint thee with His odorous oil, To wrestle, not to reign ; and He assigns All thy tears over, like pure crystallines, For younger fellow-workers of the soil To wear for amulets. So others shall Take patience...
Strana 325 - This earthly noise is too anear, Too loud, and will not let me hear The little harp. My death will soon Make silence.
Strana 83 - Comfort? comfort scorn'd of devils! this is truth the poet sings; That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things.