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American answered arms asked beautiful began born brother called carried Charles child close coming cried dark dear door Elizabeth eyes face father feeling feet fell fire flag Florinda flowers followed Frank friends gave girl give gone hand head hear heard heart horse hour Indians Jackanapes keep knew leaves legs light live looked Maggie Maidie Master morning mother never night once opened pass play poor returned rolling Rosalie round seemed seen sent side sight sleep snow sometimes soon sound spent standing stood story strange talk tell things thought tion told took tree turned Violet voice walk whole wind wonderful woods writing young
Seite 127 - My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure.
Seite 208 - It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble.
Seite 211 - He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark, here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.
Seite 221 - Where's Van Bummel, the schoolmaster?" "He went off to the wars too, was a great militia general, and is now in congress." Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time, and of matters which he could not understand: war— congress— Stony Point— he had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip...
Seite 221 - Rip looked and beheld a precise counterpart of himself as he went up the mountain, apparently as lazy and certainly as ragged. The poor fellow was now completely confounded. He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name. "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end; "I'm not myself.
Seite 214 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed.
Seite 207 - Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky; but sometimes when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last...
Seite 295 - It is, rather, for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us; that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they here gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that...