After A Shadow

Portada
1st World Publishing, 2004 - 184 pàgines
ARTY! Arty! called Mrs. Mayflower, from the window, one bright June morning. "Arty, darling! What is the child after? Just look at him, Mr. Mayflower!" I leaned from the window, in pleasant excitement, to see what new and wonderful performance had been attempted by my little prodigy - my first born - my year old bud of beauty, the folded leaves in whose bosom were just beginning to loosen themselves, and send out upon the air sweet intimations of an abounding fragrance. He had escaped from his nurse, and was running off in the clear sunshine, the slant rays of which threw a long shadow before him.

Des de l'interior del llibre

Continguts

10 LITTLE LIZZIE
108
11 ALICE AND THE PIGEON
118
12 DRESSED FOR A PARTY
123
13 COFFEE vs BRANDY
133
14 AMYS QUESTION
145
15 AN ANGEL IN DISGUISE
149
16 WHICH WAS MOST THE LADY?
160
17 OTHER PEOPLES EYES
170

Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot

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Passatges populars

Pàgina 19 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends, thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, 0 Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Pàgina 121 - STOOP to my window, thou beautiful dove ! Thy daily visits have touched my love! I watch thy coming, and list the note That stirs so low in thy mellow throat, And my joy is high To catch the glance of thy gentle eye.
Pàgina 122 - This noise of people, — this sultry air ? Thou alone, of the feathered race, Dost look unscared on the human face ; Thou alone, with a wing to flee, Dost love with man in his haunts to be ; And ' the gentle dove ' Has become a name for trust and love.
Pàgina 19 - Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition ! By that sin fell the angels : how can man, then, The image of his Maker, 'hope to win by't? Love thyself last ; cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty ; Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, And silence envious tongues.
Pàgina 122 - Thou alone, of the feathered race, Dost look unscared on the human face ; Thou alone, with a wing to flee, Dost love with man in his haunts to be , And the " gentle dove " Has become a name for trust and love. A holy gift is thine, sweet bird ! Thou'rt named with childhood's earliest word ; Thou'rt linked with all that is fresh and wild In the prisoned thoughts of the city child ; And thy even wings Are its brightest image of moving things.
Pàgina 111 - See here, my friend! If you are about making a temperance lecture, you can adjourn to the Town Hall or the Methodist Chapel." The stranger moved aside a pace or two, so that the hand of Jenks might fall from his person, and then said, mildly, "There must be something wrong here if a man may not speak in praise of water without giving offense.
Pàgina 57 - The sick man did not respond warmly to this proposition. He had been so long a mere recipient of good offices, - had so long felt himself the object towards which pity and service must tend, - that he had nearly lost the relish for good deeds. Idle dependence had made him selfish. "Give this poor cripple a lesson every day," went on the neighbor, pressing home the subject, "and talk and read to him.
Pàgina 56 - I stopped to say a word to poor Tom Hicks, the cripple, as he stood swinging on the gate before his mother's house, looking so unhappy that I pitied him in my heart. 'What do you do with yourself all through these long days, Tom?' I asked. 'Nothing,' he replied, moodily. 'Don't you read sometimes?' I queried. 'Can't read,' was his sullen answer. 'Were you never at school?' I went on. 'No: how can I get to school?' 'Why don't your mother teach you?' 'Because she can't read herself,

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