The Sketch-book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent

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Putnam, 1868 - Всего страниц: 507
 

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Пользовательский отзыв  - haloedrain - LibraryThing

4 stars for Rip Van Winkle and Sleepy Hollow. The rest are skippable, they read like the kind of op-ed that spawns lots of other op-eds and blog posts disagreeing with each other. Читать весь отзыв

LibraryThing Review

Пользовательский отзыв  - JBD1 - LibraryThing

I had read "Rip Van Winkle" and "The Legend of Sleepy Hollow" before, but I picked this up to read the other essays included in the collection. "The Art of Book-making" (about a visit to the British ... Читать весь отзыв

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Стр. 55 - Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on ; a tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use.
Стр. 466 - ... eye turned up, as if watching the weather, some with their heads under their wings, or buried in their bosoms, and others swelling, and cooing, and bowing about their dames, were enjoying the sunshine on the roof. Sleek unwieldy porkers were grunting in the repose and abundance of their pens; whence sallied forth, now and then, troops of sucking pigs, as if to snuff the air. A stately squadron of snowy geese were riding in an adjoining pond...
Стр. 50 - 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.
Стр. 53 - Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound.
Стр. 105 - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him.
Стр. 493 - An opening in the trees now cheered him with the hopes that the church bridge was at hand. The wavering reflection of a silver star in the bosom of the brook told him that he was not mistaken. He saw the walls of the church dimly glaring under the trees beyond. He recollected the place where Brom Bones' ghostly competitor had disappeared. " If I can but reach that bridge,
Стр. 482 - The musician was an old grayheaded negro, who had been the itinerant orchestra of the neighborhood for more than half a century. His instrument was as old and battered as himself. The greater part of the time he scraped on two or three strings, accompanying every movement of the bow with a motion of the head ; bowing almost to the ground, and stamping with his foot whenever a fresh couple were to start. Ichabod prided himself upon his dancing as much as upon his vocal powers. Not a limb, not a...
Стр. 468 - ... roofs, built in the style handed down from the first Dutch settlers, the low projecting eaves forming a piazza along the front capable of being closed up in bad weather. Under this were hung flails, harness, various utensils of husbandry, and nets for fishing in the neighboring river. Benches were built along the sides for summer use, and a great spinning-wheel at one end and a churn at the other showed the various uses to which this important porch might be devoted.
Стр. 64 - ... was strange. His mind now misgave him; he began to doubt whether both he and the world around him were not bewitched. Surely this was his native village, which he had left but the day before. There stood the Kaatskill mountains — there ran the silver Hudson at a distance — there was every hill and dale precisely as it had always been. Rip was sorely perplexed — "That flagon last night/' thought he, "has addled my poor head sadly!
Стр. 192 - Say I died true. My love was false, but I was firm, From my hour of birth, Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth.

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