The Nautical Magazine: A Journal of Papers on Subjects Connected with Maritime Affairs, Volume 15

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Brown, Son and Ferguson, 1846 - Naval art and science
 

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Page 133 - For honour travels in a strait so narrow, Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons, That one by one pursue: If you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by, And leave you hindmost...
Page 126 - Then they cry unto the LORD in their trouble, And he bringeth them out of their distresses.
Page 66 - Though thy clime Be fickle, and thy year most part deformed, With dripping rains, or withered by a frost, I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.
Page 380 - Pleas, calling upon the plaintiff to show cause why the verdict should not be set aside...
Page 367 - Thus I spoke; and speaking sigh'd; — Scarce repress'd the starting tear; — When the smiling sage reply'd — — Come, my lad, and drink some beer.
Page 126 - They mount up to the heaven, they go down again to the depths : their soul is melted because of trouble. They reel to and fro, and stagger like a drunken man, and are at their wit's end.
Page 604 - Sir, — I have the honour to acquaint you, for the information of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, that...
Page 242 - ... passage across the Atlantic; who so pathetically relate the privations and hardships of the sea, where, after a day of breakfasting, lunching, dining off five courses, chatting, playing whist, and drinking...
Page 243 - The Marquesas! What strange visions of outlandish things does the very name spirit up! Naked houris — cannibal banquets — groves of cocoa-nut — coral reefs — tatooed chiefs— and bamboo temples; sunny valleys planted with bread-fruit- trees — carved canoes dancing on the flashing blue waters — savage woodlands guarded by horrible idols — heathenish rites and human sacrifices.
Page 242 - SIX MONTHS AT SEA ! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific — the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else!

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