The Sketch-book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. [pseud.].G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1880 - 532 страници |
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Страница 40
... door , and on the grass - plot in front . A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the door . Just as we approach- ed , we heard the sound of music - Leslie grasped my arm ; we paused and listened ...
... door , and on the grass - plot in front . A small wicket gate opened upon a footpath that wound through some shrubbery to the door . Just as we approach- ed , we heard the sound of music - Leslie grasped my arm ; we paused and listened ...
Страница 45
... rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out - door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his management , acre by acre , until there was little more left than a RIP VAN WINKLE .
... rain always made a point of setting in just as he had some out - door work to do ; so that though his patrimonial estate had dwindled away under his management , acre by acre , until there was little more left than a RIP VAN WINKLE .
Страница 47
... door with yelping precipitation . Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age , and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with con- stant use ...
... door with yelping precipitation . Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age , and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with con- stant use ...
Страница 54
... doors - strange faces at the win- dows - everything was strange . His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched . Surely this was his native village , which he had left but the ...
... doors - strange faces at the win- dows - everything was strange . His mind now misgave him ; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched . Surely this was his native village , which he had left but the ...
Страница 55
... door was painted , " the Union Hotel , by Jona- than Doolittle . " Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore , there now was reared a tall naked pole , with something on the top that looked like a ...
... door was painted , " the Union Hotel , by Jona- than Doolittle . " Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore , there now was reared a tall naked pole , with something on the top that looked like a ...
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abbey ancient antiquity Baltus Van Tassel baron beauty Boar's Head bosom Bracebridge Canonchet castle character charm Christmas church cottage countenance custom Dame dark delight distant door earth Eastcheap Edward the Confessor England English Falstaff fancy father favorite feelings fire flowers goblin grave green hall hand heard heart hung Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian John Bull kind lady Little Britain living look mansion Master Simon melancholy ment merry mind mingled monuments morning mountain Narragansets nature neighborhood neighboring never night noble observed old English old gentleman once passed Philip poet poor pride quiet Rip Van Winkle round rural scene seated seemed Shakspeare side sleep Sleepy Hollow song sorrow soul sound spectre spirit squire story sweet tender thought tion tomb trees turn village wandering wassail Westminster Abbey whole wild William Walworth window worthy Wurtzburg young
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Страница 385 - He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it looked like a weathercock, perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew.
Страница 363 - This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
Страница 55 - ... silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A halfstarved dog that looked like Wolf was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed — "My very dog," sighed poor Rip, "has forgotten me!
Страница 51 - 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 sugar-loaf hat, set off with a little red cock's tail. They all had beards, of various shapes and colors. There was one who seemed to be the commander.
Страница 50 - ... surrounded by perpendicular precipices, over the brinks of which impending trees shot their branches, so that you only caught glimpses of the azure sky and the bright evening cloud.
Страница 44 - The children of the village too would shout with joy whenever he approached. He assisted at their sports, made their playthings, taught them to fly kites and shoot marbles, and told them long stories of ghosts, witches, and Indians. Whenever he went dodging about the village, he was surrounded by a troop of them, hanging on his skirts, clambering on his back, and playing a thousand tricks on him with impunity ; and not a dog would bark at him throughout the neighborhood.
Страница 55 - 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 52 - ... whence he had first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes — it was a bright, sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain breeze. " Surely," thought Rip, " I have not slept here all night.
Страница 45 - 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 58 - The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. " What is your name, my good woman ?