The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent, Volume 1 |
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Page 9
... hours together on the tranquil bosom of a summer's sea ; -to gaze upon the piles of golden clouds just peering above the horizon , fancy them some fairy realms , and people them with a creation of my own ; -to watch the gentle ...
... hours together on the tranquil bosom of a summer's sea ; -to gaze upon the piles of golden clouds just peering above the horizon , fancy them some fairy realms , and people them with a creation of my own ; -to watch the gentle ...
Page 13
... hours in the dense fog . We fired signal guns , and list- ened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors : but all was silent - we never saw or heard any thing of them more ! " I confess these stories , for a time , put an end to all ...
... hours in the dense fog . We fired signal guns , and list- ened if we might hear the halloo of any survivors : but all was silent - we never saw or heard any thing of them more ! " I confess these stories , for a time , put an end to all ...
Page 19
... hour you may , you are sure to find it filled with grave looking personages , deeply absorbed in the study of newspapers . As I was once visiting this haunt of the learned , my attention was attracted to a person just enter- ing the ...
... hour you may , you are sure to find it filled with grave looking personages , deeply absorbed in the study of newspapers . As I was once visiting this haunt of the learned , my attention was attracted to a person just enter- ing the ...
Page 23
... hours and seasons snatched from the pur- suit of worldly interests by intelligent and public spirited individuals . He has shown how much may be done for a place in hours of leisure by one master spirit , and how completely it can give ...
... hours and seasons snatched from the pur- suit of worldly interests by intelligent and public spirited individuals . He has shown how much may be done for a place in hours of leisure by one master spirit , and how completely it can give ...
Page 27
... have been the only cir- cumstance that could provoke the notice of his muse . The scholar only knows how dear these silent , yet eloquent , companions of pure thoughts and innocent hours become in the season of ad- versity ROSCOE . 27.
... have been the only cir- cumstance that could provoke the notice of his muse . The scholar only knows how dear these silent , yet eloquent , companions of pure thoughts and innocent hours become in the season of ad- versity ROSCOE . 27.
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abbey ancient antiquity aunts Baron beauty Boar's Head bosom bustling castle chamber charms church cottage countenance crowd Dame Van Winkle deep delight distant door dust earth Eastcheap elegant England English Falstaff fancy feelings flowers funeral gaze George Somers Gersau gloomy grave hand heard heart hour humble Jack Straw kind labour literary living looked Maid's Tragedy meditation melancholy ment mind mingled monument mountain nature neighbours ness never noble Odenwald once passed Peter Stuyvesant poem poet poetical poor pride quarto quiet racter Rip Van Winkle Robert Preston Roscoe round rural sawtrie scene seat seemed sepulchre silent solemn sorrow soul spectre spirit story strange stranger sweet tale tavern tender thing thought tion tomb tower trees turned verger village wandering Wat Tyler WESTMINSTER ABBEY whole wife wild William Walworth writers Wurtzburg young
Popular passages
Page 52 - 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.
Page 83 - Methinks I see in my mind a noble and puissant Nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full midday beam...
Page 66 - ... that overhung a sunny precipice; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities. What was to be done? The morning was passing away, and Rip felt famished for want of his breakfast. He grieved to give up his dog and gun; he dreaded to meet his wife; but it would not do to starve among the mountains. He shook his head, shouldered the rusty firelock, and, with a heart full of trouble and anxiety, turned his steps homeward.
Page 70 - ... gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, "what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?
Page 67 - ... passed. The very village was altered ; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors — strange faces at the windows — everything was strange.
Page 64 - He determined to revisit the scene of the last evening's gambol, and if he met with any of the party, to demand his dog and gun. As he rose to walk he found himself stiff in the joints, and wanting in his usual activity. "These mountain beds do not agree with me...
Page 50 - In that same village, and in one of these very houses (which, to tell the precise truth, was sadly time-worn and weather-beaten), there lived many years since, while the country was yet a province of Great Britain, a simple, good-natured fellow of the name of Rip Van Winkle. He was a descendant of the Van Winkles who figured so gallantly in the chivalrous days of Peter Stuyvesant, and accompanied him to the siege of Fort Christina.
Page 57 - ... curl about his nose, would gravely nod his head in token of perfect approbation. From even this strong-hold the unlucky Rip was at length routed by his termagant wife, who would suddenly break in upon the tranquillity of the assemblage and call the members all to naught ; nor was that august personage, Nicholas Vedder himself, sacred from the daring tongue of this terrible virago, who charged him outright with encouraging her husband in habits of idleness.
Page 261 - Where is the mother who would willingly forget the infant that perished like a blossom from her arms, though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament?
Page 49 - 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.