A Walk from London to John O'Groats

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IndyPublish.com, 1864 - Technology & Engineering - 220 pages
A journey through rural England and Scotland in the year 1864.
 

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Page 25 - What thou art we know not : What is most like thee ? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Page 25 - Do you ne'er think what wondrous beings these? Do you ne'er think who made them, and who taught The dialect they speak, where melodies Alone are the interpreters of thought? Whose household words are songs in many keys, Sweeter than instrument of man e'er caught! Whose habitations in the tree-tops even Are half-way houses on the road to heaven!
Page 114 - In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, How akin they are to human things.
Page 335 - John prevented this rupture. He made a touching speech to them, soothing their angry spirits with an appeal to the common and precious memories of their native land and to all their joint experiences in this. He entreated them to return to their homes quietly, and he would remedy the current difficulty at the next meeting. Won by his kindly spirit and words, they complied with his request. In the interval, John built a house expressly for the purpose, of an octagonal form, with eight doors and windows....
Page 31 - ... generations. 5. It is the singing angel of man's nearest heaven, whose vital breath is music. Its sweet warbling is only the metrical palpitation of its life of joy. It goes up over the rooftrees of the rural hamlet on the wings of its song, as if to train the human soul to trial flights heavenward. 6. Never did the Creator put a voice of such volume into so small a living thing. It is a marvel — almost a miracle. In a still hour you can hear it at nearly a mile's distance. When its form is...
Page 32 - TOPLADT. 654. 8s. 1. THE winter is over and gone, The thrush whistles sweet on the spray, The turtle breathes forth her soft moan, The lark mounts and warbles away. 2. Shall every creature around Their voices in concert unite, And I, the most favored, be found In praising to take less delight ? 3. Awake, then, my harp, and my lute! Sweet organs your notes softly swell! No longer my lips shall be mute, The Saviour's high praises to tell.
Page 30 - It seems to spread out its wings and to be lifted straight upwards out of sight by the afflatus of its own happy heart. To pour out this in undulating rivulets of rhapsody is apparently the only motive of its ascension. This it is that has made it so loved of all generations.
Page 212 - Our autumnal scenery without the maple, would be like the play of Hamlet with Hamlet left out ; or like a royal court without a queen.
Page 243 - America, and perhaps done up to some show of decency and comfort. But how small and rude the pulpit and pews — looking like rough-boarded potatobins! Here is the great banquet-hall, full to overflowing with the tracks and cross-tracks of that wild, strange life of old. There is a fire-place for you, and a mark in the chimney-back of five hundred Christmas logs.
Page 284 - History hangs its webwork everywhere. It is built, high and low, into the face of the outside walls. Quaint, old, carved stones from abbey and castle ruins, arms, devices and inscriptions are all here presented to the eye like the printed page of an open volume. Among the interesting relics are a chair made from the rafters of the house in which Wallace was betrayed, Rob Roy's pistol, and the key of the old Tolbooth of Edinburgh. I was conducted through the rooms opened to visitors by a very gentlemanly-looking...

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