The Expedition of Humphry Clinker

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Harper & Brothers, 1836 - English fiction - 400 pages

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Page 292 - While, lightly poised, the scaly brood In myriads cleave thy crystal flood; The springing trout in speckled pride, The salmon, monarch of the tide; The ruthless pike, intent on war, The silver eel, and mottled par. Devolving from thy parent lake, A charming maze thy waters make, By bowers of birch and groves of pine, And hedges flower'd with eglantine.
Page 165 - ... is now engrossed by female authors, who publish merely for the propagation of virtue, with so much ease, and spirit, and delicacy, and knowledge of the human heart, and all in the serene tranquillity of high life, that the reader is not only enchanted by their genius, but reformed by their morality.
Page 292 - Arcadian plain. Pure stream, in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave; No torrents stain thy limpid source, No rocks impede thy dimpling course, That sweetly warbles o'er its bed, With white, round, polish'd pebbles spread...
Page 119 - Hark ye, Clinker, you are a most notorious offender. You stand convicted of sickness, hunger, wretchedness, and want. But, as it does not belong to me to punish criminals, I will only take...
Page 162 - A fourth had contracted such an antipathy to the country, that he insisted upon sitting with his back towards the window that looked into the garden ; and when a dish of cauliflower was set upon the table he snuffed up volatile salts to keep him from fainting: yet this delicate person was the son of a cottager, born under a hedge, and had many years run wild among asses on a common.
Page 163 - ... first counterfeited, was now become so habitual that he could not lay it aside. A certain winking genius, who wore yellow gloves at dinner, had, on his first introduction, taken such offence at S , because he looked and talked, and ate and drank, like any other man, that he spoke contemptuously of his understanding ever after, and never would repeat his visit until he had exhibited the following proof of his caprice. Wat...
Page 145 - Molly, what shall I say of London ? All the towns that ever I beheld in my born days are no more than Welsh barrows and crumlecks to this wonderful sitty...
Page 161 - He carried me to dine with S , whom you and I have long known by his writings. He lives in the skirts of the town ; and every Sunday his house is open to all unfortunate brothers of the quill, whom he treats with beef, pudding, and potatoes, port, punch, and Calvert's entire butt beer.
Page 125 - Vauxhall is a composition of baubles, overcharged with paltry ornaments, ill conceived and poorly executed, without any unity of design or propriety of disposition. It is an unnatural assemblage of objects, fantastically illuminated in broken masses, seemingly contrived to dazzle the eyes and divert the imagination of the vulgar.
Page vi - Roman spirit, who is the father of the linen manufacture in this place, and was the great promoter of the city workhouse, infirmary, and other works of public utility. Had he lived in ancient Rome, he would have been honoured with a statue at the public expense.

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