The First[-fifth] Reader ...Scribner, Armstrong, 1875 - Readers |
From inside the book
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Page 26
... air , despite its chill , and lovely hints of summer - time were everywhere . ດ Thoga welcome sights and sounds met Christie , as she walked down the lane , and , coming to 26 SHELDON'S FIFTH READER . Marian Douglas CHRISTIE'S NEW HOME.
... air , despite its chill , and lovely hints of summer - time were everywhere . ດ Thoga welcome sights and sounds met Christie , as she walked down the lane , and , coming to 26 SHELDON'S FIFTH READER . Marian Douglas CHRISTIE'S NEW HOME.
Page 27
Edward Austin Sheldon. she walked down the lane , and , coming to a gate , paused there to look about her . An old - fashioned cottage stood in the midst of a garden , just awaking from its long sleep . One elm hung protectingly over the ...
Edward Austin Sheldon. she walked down the lane , and , coming to a gate , paused there to look about her . An old - fashioned cottage stood in the midst of a garden , just awaking from its long sleep . One elm hung protectingly over the ...
Page 28
... coming to molest or make afraid , would have found it impossible to mar the tranquillity of that benign old face , or disturb one fold of the soft muslin crossed upon her breast . 6. " I come from Mr. Power , and I have a note for Mrs ...
... coming to molest or make afraid , would have found it impossible to mar the tranquillity of that benign old face , or disturb one fold of the soft muslin crossed upon her breast . 6. " I come from Mr. Power , and I have a note for Mrs ...
Page 32
... Coming to a bed of pansies , she sat down on a rustic chair , and , leaning for- ward , feasted her eyes on these , her favorites . Her face grew young as she looked , and her hands touched them with a lingering tenderness as if to her ...
... Coming to a bed of pansies , she sat down on a rustic chair , and , leaning for- ward , feasted her eyes on these , her favorites . Her face grew young as she looked , and her hands touched them with a lingering tenderness as if to her ...
Page 41
... coming into my eyes , and how , just then , I caught sight of the tall boy glancing at me , and how I tried to turn it off , by looking to see if I could button my over - coat a great Ideal lower down than the button - holes went ...
... coming into my eyes , and how , just then , I caught sight of the tall boy glancing at me , and how I tried to turn it off , by looking to see if I could button my over - coat a great Ideal lower down than the button - holes went ...
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Common terms and phrases
arms Babie Bell beautiful bell beneath bird black fox blue boat Bob Cratchit brave breath Bridal Veil Fall bridge Cape Alexander captain Carcassonne Carthage cheat-ed ye clouds Cratchit cried dark dashed dead door ELIZA COOK eyes face feet fell fire flames flowers foam gray green hair hand head heard heart Heaven hills horse hour J. G. HOLLAND JEAN INGELow John S. C. Abbott land light living look Matterhorn miles morning mother never night passed Procida rising river roar rock rope rose round sail sailors sandpiper seemed shore side silent smile snow soon sound stood sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Tiny Tim trees turned valley voice wall walrus watched waves wild wind window woods young
Popular passages
Page 326 - That orbed maiden , with white fire laden, Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn...
Page 169 - THE SEA. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Page 404 - All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.
Page 325 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Page 189 - Reaper Behold her, single in the field, Yon solitary Highland Lass! Reaping and singing by herself; Stop here, or gently pass! Alone she cuts and binds the grain, And sings a melancholy strain; O listen! for the Vale profound Is overflowing with the sound.
Page 405 - So live, that when thy summons comes to join The innumerable caravan which moves To that mysterious realm, where each shall take His chamber in the silent halls of death, Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at night, Scourged to his dungeon, but, sustained and soothed By an unfaltering trust, approach thy grave Like one who wraps the drapery of his couch About him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.
Page 189 - 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?
Page 220 - To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way. Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
Page 219 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year...
Page 404 - Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound Save his own dashings — yet the dead are there ! And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last sleep — the dead reign there alone.