American Classics for Seventh and Eighth Grade Reading: With Biographical Sketches, Portraits and Suggestions for StudyHoughton Mifflin, 1905 - 437 pages |
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Page 51
... mean time , Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm , or sauntering along in the twilight , that hour so favorable to the lover's eloquence . I profess not to know how women's ...
... mean time , Ichabod would carry on his suit with the daughter by the side of the spring under the great elm , or sauntering along in the twilight , that hour so favorable to the lover's eloquence . I profess not to know how women's ...
Page 58
... - li - cook , from a Dutch word that means oil- cake . A cake of dough sweetened and fried in lard , --some- thing like the cruller , but richer and tenderer . -- table dishes of preserved plums , and peaches , 58 WASHINGTON IRVING .
... - li - cook , from a Dutch word that means oil- cake . A cake of dough sweetened and fried in lard , --some- thing like the cruller , but richer and tenderer . -- table dishes of preserved plums , and peaches , 58 WASHINGTON IRVING .
Page 73
... means ; and it is a favorite story often told about the neigh- borhood round the winter evening fire . The bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe ; and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of late ...
... means ; and it is a favorite story often told about the neigh- borhood round the winter evening fire . The bridge became more than ever an object of superstitious awe ; and that may be the reason why the road has been altered of late ...
Page 81
... means , taking no pains to conceal his purpose , yet touching his characters quietly or playfully with human sensibilities , and investing them with just so much real life as answers the purpose of the story . This is exquisitely done ...
... means , taking no pains to conceal his purpose , yet touching his characters quietly or playfully with human sensibilities , and investing them with just so much real life as answers the purpose of the story . This is exquisitely done ...
Page 86
... mean , dear mother ? ” eagerly inquired Ernest . " Pray tell me all about it ! " So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her , when she herself was younger than little Ernest ; a story , not of things that were ...
... mean , dear mother ? ” eagerly inquired Ernest . " Pray tell me all about it ! " So his mother told him a story that her own mother had told to her , when she herself was younger than little Ernest ; a story , not of things that were ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian American ANNABEL LEE Annapolis River Basil bear beauty behold bells BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH bird character church dark death deciduous door Emerson England English Ernest Evangeline eyes farmer father forest French friends Gabriel gleamed Grand-Pré hand head heard heart heaven Henry hill House of Burgesses Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian Israfel labor land light literary literature lived looked maiden meadows morning mountain nature neighboring never Nevermore night Nova Scotia o'er passed pine Poe's poem poet poetry prairies priest published Quoth the Raven RALPH WALDO EMERSON Raven Rip Van Winkle river rose round seemed shadow shore side silence Sir Launfal Sleepy Hollow smile song sorrow soul sound speech spirit Stone Face stood story stream sweet thee thou thought tion tonian tree trout valley village Virginia voice volume Washington wind winter wonder woods words
Popular passages
Page 194 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more.
Page 362 - All alone, And who tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone — They are neither man nor woman — They are neither brute nor human — They are Ghouls: And their king it is who tolls; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A paean from the bells!
Page 175 - To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language ; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 352 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Page 159 - Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers.
Page 357 - This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er She shall press, ah, nevermore ! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. "Wretch...
Page 176 - Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound, Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there : And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep— the dead reign there alone.
Page 129 - Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play! Who hath not learned, in hours of faith, The truth to flesh and sense unknown, That Life is ever lord of Death, And Love can never lose its own!
Page 194 - NAUTILUS This is the ship of pearl, which, poets feign, Sails the unshadowed main, — The venturous bark that flings On the sweet summer wind its purpled wings In gulfs enchanted, where the siren sings, And coral reefs lie bare, Where the cold sea-maids rise to sun their streaming hair.
Page 26 - Rip looked and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself.