The Little Frenchman and His Water Lots: With Other Sketches of the Times

Lea & Blanchard, 1839 - 155 páginas

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Página 93 - Woodman, spare that tree ! Touch not a single bough ! In youth it sheltered me, And I'll protect it now. 'Twas my forefather's hand That placed it near his cot; There, woodman, let it stand, Thy axe shall harm it not. That old familiar tree, Whose glory and renown Are spread o'er land and sea — And wouldst thou hew it down? Woodman, forbear thy stroke! Cut not its earth-bound ties...
Página 93 - When but an idle boy, I sought its grateful shade; In all their gushing joy Here, too, my sisters played. My mother kissed me here; My father pressed my hand — Forgive this foolish tear, But let that old oak stand.
Página 90 - Riding out of town a few days since, in company with a friend, an old gentleman, he invited me to turn down a little, romantic woodland pass, not far from Bloomingdale. " Your object?" inquired I. " Merely to look once more at an old tree planted by my grandfather long before I was born, under which I used to play when a boy, and where my sisters played with me.
Página 27 - Ye have the account Of my performance : what remains, ye gods ! But up, and enter now into full bliss ?" So having said, a while he stood, expecting Their universal shout, and high applause, To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues, A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn...
Página 129 - Who's in or out, who moves this grand machine, Nor stirs my curiosity nor spleen. Secrets of state no more I wish to know Than secret movements of a puppet-show : 260 Let but the puppets move, I've my desire, Unseen the hand which guides the master-wire.
Página 102 - " No, monsieur, I must have him." " You must ? " " Oui, monsieur," said little dimity breeches, turning pale with apprehension for the safety of his money. " And you can't do without it ? " " No, monsieur, not von other leetle moment longare.
Página 90 - And a paleness overspread his fine countenance, and tears came to his eyes. After a moment's pause, he added : ' Don't think me foolish. I don't know how it is : I never ride out but I turn down this lane to look at that old tree.
Página 93 - Here shall the wild bird sing, And still thy branches bend. Old tree! the storm still brave! And, woodman, leave the spot: While I've a hand to save, Thy axe shall harm it not!
Página 30 - It was sanctioned by immemorial usage, and had all the crust of antiquity about it. Nobody thought of disputing the matter. It was settled, like...
Página 23 - Yes, sare, but it is your fault. You're von ver gran rascal to swindle me out of de I'argent." "Hello, old Poopoo, you grow personal; and if you can't keep a civil tongue in your head, you must go out of my counting-room.

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