The Phantom 'rickshaw and Other Tales

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John W. Lovell Company, 1890 - Ghost stories, English - 391 pages

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Page 204 - T'HE SON of GOD goes forth to war, A kingly crown to gain, His blood-red banner streams afar ; Who follows in His train? Who best can drink His cup of woe, Triumphant over pain, Who patient bears his cross below, He follows in His train.
Page 236 - BAA BAA, BLACK SHEEP Baa Baa, Black Sheep, Have you any wool ? Yes, Sir, yes, Sir, three bags full. One for the Master, one for the Dame — None for the Little Boy that cries down the lane. Nursery Shyme. THE FIRST BAG When I was in my father's house, I was in a better place.
Page 380 - Some talk of Alexander, And some of Hercules ; Of Hector and Lysander, And such great names as these...
Page 297 - Where the word of a king is, there is power: and who may say unto him, What doest thou?
Page 40 - Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Joying to feel herself alive, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, Lord of the senses five ; Communing with herself : ' All these are mine, And let the world have peace or wars, Tis one to me.
Page 166 - Yes ;' very haughty, and eats it slow. That was how we came to our first village, without any trouble, just as though we had tumbled from the skies. But we tumbled from one of those damned rope-bridges, you see, and you couldn't expect a man to laugh much after that.
Page 157 - The two then were beyond the border. I would have prayed for them, but that night a real king died in Europe, and demanded an obituary notice. The wheel of the world swings through the same phases again and again. Summer passed and winter thereafter, and came and passed again. The daily paper continued, and I with it, and upon the third summer there fell a hot night, a...
Page 141 - It was a shade cooler in the press-room than the office, so I sat there, while the type ticked and clicked, and the night-jars hooted at the windows, and the all but naked compositors wiped the sweat from their foreheads and called for water.
Page 142 - said the smaller of the two. He was the man I had met in the Mhow train, and his fellow was the red-bearded man of Marwar Junction. There was no mistaking the eyebrows of the one or the beard of the other. I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep, not to squabble with loafers. "What do you want?" I asked. "Half an hour's talk with you cool and comfortable, in the office,
Page 296 - There! Told you so,' says Punch. 'It's all different now, and we are just as much Mother's as if she had never gone.' Not altogether, O Punch, for when young lips have drunk deep of the bitter waters of Hate, Suspicion, and Despair, all the Love in the world will not wholly take away that knowledge; though it may turn darkened eyes for a while to the light, and teach Faith where no Faith was.