The Oriel readers. First (-Third) infant primer

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Page 223 - Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain ; 0 listen ! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No Nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt, Among Arabian sands : A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings...
Page 224 - Hebrides. Will no one tell me what she sings? — Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again? Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang As if her song could have no ending...
Page 130 - The golden ripple on the wall came back again, and nothing else stirred in the room. The old, old fashion! The fashion that came in with our first garments, and will last unchanged until our race has run its course, and the wide firmament is rolled up like a scroll. The old, old fashion — Death!
Page 121 - Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did NOT die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world.
Page 181 - I intend to form several of my ensuing speculations. Sir Roger, who is very well acquainted with my humour, lets me rise and go to bed when I please, dine at his own table or in my chamber as I think fit, sit still and say nothing without bidding me be merry.
Page 204 - They climb up into my turret, O'er the arms and back of my chair; If I try to escape, they surround me: They seem to be everywhere.
Page 121 - A merry Christmas. Bob !" said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. " A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you for many a year ! I'll raise your salary, and endeavor to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob ! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit !" Scrooge was better than his word.
Page 227 - And now he feels the bottom ; Now on dry earth he stands; Now round him throng the Fathers To press his gory hands; And now with shouts and clapping, And noise of weeping loud, He enters through the River-Gate, Borne by the joyous crowd.
Page 123 - But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled.
Page 233 - LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

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