A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy, Volumen1

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P. Miller and J. White, 1774 - 328 páginas
 

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Crítica de los usuarios  - Glacierman - LibraryThing

Superb production! Leer comentario completo

LibraryThing Review

Crítica de los usuarios  - Marse - LibraryThing

A Sentimental Journey is the story of a man traveling from England to France and back and his adventures, or should I say, his encounters during the trip. We don't get a lot of "travel" descriptions ... Leer comentario completo

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Página 48 - I thought by the accent, it had been an apostrophe to his child; but 'twas to his ass, and to the very ass we had seen dead in the road, which had occasioned La Fleur's misadventure. The man seemed to lament it much; and it instantly brought into my mind Sancho's lamentation for his; but he did it with more true touches of nature. The mourner was sitting...
Página 93 - I saw him pale and feverish ; in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood, — he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice; — his children — But here my heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.
Página 35 - Turin, in his return home; and a sad tale of sorrowful adventures he had to tell, "wherein he spoke of moving accidents by flood and field, and of the cannibals which each other eat: the Anthropophagi" he had been flay'd alive, and bedevil'd, and used worse than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he had come at I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world. You had better tell it, said I, to your physician.
Página 145 - When we had got within half a league of Moulines, at a little opening in the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Maria sitting under a poplar she was sitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one side within her hand a small brook ran at the foot of the tree.
Página 5 - Now, was I a King of France, cried I what a moment for an orphan to have begg'd his father's portmanteau of me! The Monk — Calais I HAD scarce uttered the words, when a poor monk of the order of St. Francis came into the room to beg something for his convent.
Página 148 - Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless of the first order of fine forms; affliction had touched her looks with something that was scarce earthly, — still she was feminine; and so much was there about her of all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks for in woman, that, could the traces be ever worn out of her brain, and those of...
Página 6 - I fear, forbidding in my look: I have his figure this moment before my eyes, and think there was that in it which deserved better.
Página 49 - It had pleased heaven, he said, to bless him with three sons, the finest lads in all Germany; but having in one week lost two of...
Página 93 - I was going to begin with the millions of my fellow-creatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near...
Página 147 - As she told me this, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let me see it ; she had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine leaves, tied round with a tendril.

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