Paul Ulric: Or, The Adventures of an Enthusiast, Volume 1Harper & Brothers, 1835 |
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Page 16
... Florence . Here I fell in love with a countess , in her thirty - fifth year , who curled my hair , and gave me sugar - plums . She was an old acquaintance of my mother's , and was travelling on the Continent for her health , or - to ...
... Florence . Here I fell in love with a countess , in her thirty - fifth year , who curled my hair , and gave me sugar - plums . She was an old acquaintance of my mother's , and was travelling on the Continent for her health , or - to ...
Page 28
... * * " Paul is growing more mischievous and wicked every day . You may remember the beautiful * The countess was married a short time after her arrival in Florence monthly rose which I was at so much pains to 28 PAUL ULRIC .
... * * " Paul is growing more mischievous and wicked every day . You may remember the beautiful * The countess was married a short time after her arrival in Florence monthly rose which I was at so much pains to 28 PAUL ULRIC .
Page 148
... Florence mansion ? " she asked . " Very like who is its owner ? " " A man of the same name - Richard Flor- ence . " " Who is Richard Florence ? " " An Englishman ; he came to this country a year or two ago . " " Has he a wife ? " " Not ...
... Florence mansion ? " she asked . " Very like who is its owner ? " " A man of the same name - Richard Flor- ence . " " Who is Richard Florence ? " " An Englishman ; he came to this country a year or two ago . " " Has he a wife ? " " Not ...
Page 149
... Oh , nothing , nothing ! " briefly answered the old woman . " But who fired the " A young gentleman , as Miss Florence de- gun ? " scribes him , with black eyes and chestnut hair ; N 2 PAUL ULRIC . 149 "What is her name ?" ...
... Oh , nothing , nothing ! " briefly answered the old woman . " But who fired the " A young gentleman , as Miss Florence de- gun ? " scribes him , with black eyes and chestnut hair ; N 2 PAUL ULRIC . 149 "What is her name ?" ...
Page 150
... Florence often speaks of him , but that is only to me ; she dare not hint the subject to her father ; she would not have it known that she had formed the slightest acquaint- ance with a stranger . " My ecstasy knew no bounds . I was ...
... Florence often speaks of him , but that is only to me ; she dare not hint the subject to her father ; she would not have it known that she had formed the slightest acquaint- ance with a stranger . " My ecstasy knew no bounds . I was ...
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acquaintance adventure answered appeared asked asso baronet beautiful Borel Bunting bright eyes Brown carriage CHAPTER charming commenced continued cottage Dame Lawler daugh daughter deacon delight Dingee door doubt editor Eleanor eloped Essex exclaimed eyes fancy father favour fear Fife gentleman Gertrude girl gout hand happiness heart hour hurried inquired interrupted interview knew laugh length Leslie letter Lionel Wafer lips look Lord Byron Master Le Brun matter melancholy Miss Florence morning mother mystery never night object observed occasion Othello Ovid Paul Ulric pause phatically pistols poetry rambled Rattleton reader received remark replied returned Richard Florence RICHARD III rock Romeo and Juliet Rosaline scarcely scribe silent sister smile soliloquy soon spirit stood strange stranger sweet tell thee thing thou thought tion tone tree village Violet voice walked woman words young lady
Popular passages
Page 52 - Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy For you to laugh and leap and say you are merry, Because you are not sad. Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time : Some that will evermore peep through their eyes And laugh like parrots at a bag-piper, And other of such vinegar aspect That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable.
Page 23 - There is a dangerous silence in that hour, A stillness which leaves room for the full soul To open all itself, without the power Of calling wholly back its self-control; The silver light which, hallowing tree and tower, Sheds beauty and deep softness o'er the whole Breathes also to the heart, and o'er it throws A loving languor, which is not repose.
Page 140 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Page 82 - Find, if you can, in what you cannot change. Manners with Fortunes, Humours turn with Climes. Tenets with Books, and Principles with Times.
Page 5 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together...
Page 90 - Who shames a scribbler? break one cobweb through, He spins the slight, self-pleasing thread anew: Destroy his fib or sophistry, in vain, The creature's at his dirty work again, Throned in the centre of his thin designs, Proud of a vast extent of flimsy lines!
Page 97 - It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance; And so am I for Phebe.
Page 72 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 22 - He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 97 - Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. It is to be all made of sighs and tears...