Daisy's Necklace: and what Came of it: (a Literary Episode.)Derby & Jackson, 1857 - 225 pages |
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Page vi
... Flint Outwitted - Mr . Flint's Photograph - The Madman's Story - The Wrecked Soul - How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience , and dreams of a Pair of Eyes . CHAPTER VIII . MR . FLINT IS PERFECTLY ASTONISHED , VI CONTENTS .
... Flint Outwitted - Mr . Flint's Photograph - The Madman's Story - The Wrecked Soul - How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience , and dreams of a Pair of Eyes . CHAPTER VIII . MR . FLINT IS PERFECTLY ASTONISHED , VI CONTENTS .
Page 11
... story- telling . It is not printed at the " urgent request of numerous friends " -I am so fortunate as not to have many - but a seductive little argument in the shape of a cheque is the sole cause of its present form ; other- wise , I ...
... story- telling . It is not printed at the " urgent request of numerous friends " -I am so fortunate as not to have many - but a seductive little argument in the shape of a cheque is the sole cause of its present form ; other- wise , I ...
Page 31
... story - book , comes in sunlight , or hides in flowers ; and he reveals himself in ever so many ways , to all who love him . " " Hides in flowers , " repeated the boy , musingly ; " I never thought of that . Then , perhaps only perhaps ...
... story - book , comes in sunlight , or hides in flowers ; and he reveals himself in ever so many ways , to all who love him . " " Hides in flowers , " repeated the boy , musingly ; " I never thought of that . Then , perhaps only perhaps ...
Page 69
... story house in Marion - street . The door is opened before he can turn the bolt with his night - key , and the whitest possible little hand presses his . He draws it within his own , and places his arm around the daintiest little waist ...
... story house in Marion - street . The door is opened before he can turn the bolt with his night - key , and the whitest possible little hand presses his . He draws it within his own , and places his arm around the daintiest little waist ...
Page 95
... Story - The wrecked Soul - How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience , and dreams of a Pair of Eyes . THE same night on which Mortimer was writ- ing in the books of Flint & Snarle , Mr. Flint sat in the library of his bachelor home ...
... Story - The wrecked Soul - How Mr. Flint is troubled by his Conscience , and dreams of a Pair of Eyes . THE same night on which Mortimer was writ- ing in the books of Flint & Snarle , Mr. Flint sat in the library of his bachelor home ...
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Common terms and phrases
angel ANNE RADCLIFFE arms asked Attorney at Law Barescythe Barry beautiful Blackwell's Island bosom child chirography cloth cold cravat cried Daisy Snarle DAISY'S NECKLACE dead DERBY & JACKSON'S door dream edition Edward Walters eyes face father feet fell fingers Flint & Snarle flowers gold grew hair hand Hardwill heard heart Heaven human voice illustrated innocent eyes JACKSON'S PUBLICATIONS John Flint laugh LAURENCE STERNE light lips little Bell looked Michel morning Mortimer Mortimer's Muggins Nanny neck never night novel old house pale paper pearls pleasant poet POETICAL poor portrait Printem & Sellem Ralph reader replied romance SAME-full gilt sides shadow sides and edges sitting sleep smile Snarle's soul speak stairs stood strange sunshine sweet Sycorax tell Theocritus thought touched turned twilight voice watched weary wild wind window wonder words young
Popular passages
Page 134 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for Heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Page 90 - Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play!
Page 196 - Our revels now are ended... These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air, And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind: we are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep..
Page 134 - Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees; Unclasps her warmed jewels one by one; Loosens her fragrant boddice; by degrees Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees: Half-hidden, like a mermaid in seaweed, Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, In fancy, fair St.
Page 134 - Of fruits and flowers and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings ; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries And twilight saints and dim emblazonings, A shielded 'scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
Page 130 - FULL knee-deep lies the winter snow, And the winter winds are wearily sighing : Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow, And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying.
Page 91 - O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill ; But O for the touch of a...
Page 90 - O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still ! Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
Page 130 - Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow And tread softly and speak low, For the old year lies a-dying. Old year, you must not die; You came to us so readily, You lived with us so steadily, Old year, you shall not die.
Page 134 - ST AGNES' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold; Numb were the Beadsman's fingers, while he told His rosary, and while his frosted breath, Like pious incense from a censer old, Seemed taking flight for heaven, without a death, Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.