American Prose: Hawthorne: Irving: Longfellow: Whittier: Holmes: Lowell: Thoreau: EmersonHoughton, Mifflin, 1880 - 424 страници |
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Страница 90
... land . The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe's black puritanical scowl threw a shadow round about him ; although in spite of his sombre influence , their gayety continued to blaze higher , like ( an ominous comparison ) the ...
... land . The other guests affirmed that Colonel Joliffe's black puritanical scowl threw a shadow round about him ; although in spite of his sombre influence , their gayety continued to blaze higher , like ( an ominous comparison ) the ...
Страница 95
... land , and hall greet yet another with an old man's blessing , ere I die . But we talk of these figures . I take the venerable patriarch to be Bradstreet , the last of the Puritans , who was governor at ninety , HOWE'S MASQUERADE . 95.
... land , and hall greet yet another with an old man's blessing , ere I die . But we talk of these figures . I take the venerable patriarch to be Bradstreet , the last of the Puritans , who was governor at ninety , HOWE'S MASQUERADE . 95.
Страница 96
... land . " Several other figures were now seen at the turn of the staircase . The one in advance had a thoughtful , anxious , and somewhat crafty expres- sion of face ; and in spite of his loftiness of man- ner , which was evidently the ...
... land . " Several other figures were now seen at the turn of the staircase . The one in advance had a thoughtful , anxious , and somewhat crafty expres- sion of face ; and in spite of his loftiness of man- ner , which was evidently the ...
Страница 99
... land . " The shape of Gage , as true as in a looking- glass ! " exclaimed Lord Percy , turning pale . 66 " No , surely , " cried Miss Joliffe , laughing hys- terically ; it could not be Gage , or Sir William would have greeted his old ...
... land . " The shape of Gage , as true as in a looking- glass ! " exclaimed Lord Percy , turning pale . 66 " No , surely , " cried Miss Joliffe , laughing hys- terically ; it could not be Gage , or Sir William would have greeted his old ...
Страница 106
... land . His family origin and his taste for the best literature had made him English in his sympathies and tastes , and his residence and travels there , the society which he entered and the friends he made , confirmed him in English ...
... land . His family origin and his taste for the best literature had made him English in his sympathies and tastes , and his residence and travels there , the society which he entered and the friends he made , confirmed him in English ...
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Страница 116 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers.
Страница 117 - At the foot of these fairy mountains, the voyager may have descried the light smoke curling up from a village, whose shingle-roofs gleam among the trees, just where the blue tints of the upland melt away into the fresh green of the nearer landscape.
Страница 110 - There was, as usual, a crowd of folk about the door, but none that Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity.
Страница 111 - A Tory! a Tory! a spy! a refugee! hustle him! away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the selfimportant man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for, and whom he was seeking? The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors, who used to keep about the tavern. "Well — who are they? — name them.
Страница 128 - what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle ?" He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean, welloiled fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel incrusted with rust, the lock falling off, and the stock worm-eaten.
Страница 127 - ... were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder. As Rip and his companion approached them, they suddenly desisted from their play, and stared at him with such fixed, statue-like gaze, and such strange,...
Страница 119 - It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble.
Страница 126 - They were dressed in a quaint outlandish fashion; some wore short doublets, others jerkins, with long knives in their belts, and most of them had enormous breeches, of similar style with that of the guide's. Their visages, too, were peculiar ; one had a large head, broad face, and small piggish eyes; the face of another seemed to consist entirely of nose, and was surmounted by a white sugarloaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail.
Страница 126 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed.
Страница 124 - ... green knoll, covered with mountain herbage, that crowned the brow of a precipice. From an opening between the trees he could overlook all the lower country for many a mile of rich woodland. He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark,* here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.