The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. [pseud.] ...
A. and W. Galignani, 1824
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affection ancient appearance arms authors beautiful become bosom brought called castle character Christmas church close comfort continually custom dark deep delight distant door earth England English face fancy father fear feelings fire flowers friends gave give given grave green half hall hand head hear heard heart horse hour Indian keep kind lady land late light living look manner Master mind morning nature neighbourhood neighbouring never night observed once passed poor present pride quiet rich round rural scene seated seemed seen side Sleepy sometimes song soon soul sound spirit stands story taken tender thing thought tion told tomb trees true turn village voice walls wandering whole wild window worthy young
Page 88 - Nicholas Vedder?" There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the church-yard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too.
Page 289 - 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.
Page 12 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Page 83 - The very village was altered; it was larger and more populous. There were rows of houses which he had never seen before, and those which had been his familiar haunts had disappeared. Strange names were over the doors, strange faces at the windows — everything was strange.
Page 80 - He now suspected that the grave roysters of the mountain had put a trick upon him, and, having dosed him with liquor, had robbed him of his gun. Wolf, too, had disappeared, but he might have strayed away after a squirrel or partridge. He whistled after him and shouted his name, but all in vain; the echoes repeated his whistle and shout, but no dog was to be seen.
Page 274 - This is the prettiest low-born lass that ever Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or seems But smacks of something greater than herself, Too noble for this place.
Page 84 - ... the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay — the roof fallen in, the windows shattered, and the doors off the hinges. A half-starved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, showed his teeth, and passed on. This was an unkind cut indeed.
Page 87 - ... knowing, self-important old gentleman, in a sharp cocked hat, made his way through the crowd, putting them to the right and left with his elbows as he passed, and planting himself before Van Winkle, with one arm akimbo, the other resting on his cane, his keen eyes and sharp hat penetrating, as it were, into his very soul, demanded, in an austere tone, "what brought him to the election with a gun on his shoulder and a mob at his heels, and whether he meant to breed a riot in the village?
Page 78 - ... countenances, that his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons, and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with fear and trembling; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence, and then returned to their game.
Page 316 - ... so that though a thief might get in with perfect ease, he would find some embarrassment in getting out : an idea most probably borrowed by the architect, Yost Van Houten, from the mystery of an eel-pot.