Swinton's Advanced First, Second Reader, Book 4

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Ivison, Blakeman, Taylor, 1886 - Readers
 

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Page 158 - I would not enter on my list of friends (Though graced with polished manners and fine sense. Yet wanting sensibility) the man Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm.
Page 98 - Thus I went up Market Street as far as Fourth Street, passing by the door of Mr. Read, my future wife's father ; when she, standing at the door, saw me, and thought I made, as I certninly did, a most awkward, ridiculous appearance.
Page 159 - The sum is this. If man's convenience, health, Or safety interfere, his rights and claims Are paramount, and must extinguish theirs, Else they are all — the meanest things that are, As free to live, and to enjoy that life, As God was free to form them at the first, Who in his sovereign wisdom made them all.
Page 301 - Not there ; not there, my child. Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy, Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ; For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb, It is there ; it is there, my child.
Page 180 - How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view! The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, And every loved spot which my infancy knew!
Page 17 - And, like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering. Out came the children running. All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
Page 183 - White are his shoulders and white his crest, Hear him call in his merry note : Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link, Spink, spank, spink ; Look, what a nice new coat is mine ! Sure there was never a bird so fine. Chee, chee, chee.
Page 24 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush?— our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! Of the three hundred, grant but three To make a new Thermopylae!
Page 301 - Is it far away in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold ? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? Not there ; not there, my child.
Page 97 - I have been the more particular in this description of my journey, and shall be so of my first entry into that city, that you may in your mind compare such unlikely beginnings with the figure I have since made there. I was in my working dress, my best clothes being to come round by sea.

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