Scribner's Magazine ..., Volumen21C. Scribner's sons, 1897 |
Contenido
| 446 | |
| 465 | |
| 493 | |
| 540 | |
| 573 | |
| 580 | |
| 657 | |
| 662 | |
| 129 | |
| 134 | |
| 190 | |
| 194 | |
| 221 | |
| 229 | |
| 254 | |
| 264 | |
| 266 | |
| 308 | |
| 351 | |
| 390 | |
| 398 | |
| 413 | |
| 441 | |
Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Términos y frases comunes
A. B. FROST actor Ah'll Alvarez American Armenians arms artist asked bank Bannalec beautiful Bihan boat boys called captain carriage Celestia cent Clay club color course Dawlish door eyes face friends girl give Godolphin hand Haxard head Henry VI Hope horses hundred keep King KIRK MUNROE knew laughed less light live Liver looked Louise MacWilliams Maxwell ment mind Miss Langham morning ness never night Odysseus Olancho once painting passed play portrait Richard RICHARD HARDING DAVIS SCRIBNER'S MAGAZINE seemed seen ship side smiled stand stood street Stuart sure talk tell thing thought tion took Torrington Trelawny turned Victor Hugo W. D. HOWELLS wait watch woman York young
Pasajes populares
Página 720 - A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers; There was lack of woman's nursing, there was dearth of woman's tears; But a comrade stood beside him, and he took that comrade's hand, And he said, "I never more shall see my own, my native land.
Página 716 - If I am going to be drowned, if I am going to be drowned, if I am going to be drowned - why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about to nibble the sacred cheese of life? The patient captain, drooped over the water-jar, was sometimes obliged to speak to the oarsman. "Keep her head up!
Página 720 - ... wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that there are no bricks and no temples. Any visible expression of nature would surely be pelleted with his jeers. Then, if there be no tangible thing to hoot he feels, perhaps, the desire to confront a personification and indulge in pleas, bowed to one knee and with hands supplicant, saying :
Página 720 - Other people had drowned at sea since galleys swarmed with painted sails, but stillWhen it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that there are no bricks and no temples.
Página 713 - Houses of refuge don't have crews," said the correspondent. "As I understand them, they are only places where clothes and grub are stored for the benefit of shipwrecked people. They don't carry crews." "Oh, yes, they do,
Página 713 - Well, we're not there yet, anyhow," said the oiler, in the stern. "Well," said the cook, "perhaps it's not a house of refuge that I'm thinking of as being near Mosquito Inlet Light; perhaps it's a life-saving station." "We're not there yet,
Página 721 - ... was no longer the flame of the long trail. The light in the north still glimmered, but it was apparently no nearer to the boat. Sometimes the boom of the surf rang in the correspondent's ears, and he turned the craft seaward then and rowed harder. Southward, some one had evidently built a watch-fire on the beach.
Página 717 - ... in-board and drenched him once more. But these matters did not annoy him. It is almost certain that if the boat had capsized he would have tumbled comfortably out upon the ocean as if he felt sure that it was a great soft mattress. " Look! There's a man on the shore!
Página 716 - Funny they don't see us!" A broad stretch of lowly coast lay before the eyes of the men. It was of low dunes topped with dark vegetation. The roar of the surf was plain, and sometimes they could see the white lip of a wave as it spun up the beach. A tiny house was blocked out black upon the sky. Southward, the slim lighthouse lifted its little gray length. Tide, wind, and waves were swinging the dinghy northward. "Funny they don't see us,
Página 712 - ... of dawn of seven turned faces, and later a stump of a topmast with a white ball on it, that slashed to and fro at the waves, went low and lower, and down. Thereafter there was something strange in his voice. Although steady, it was deep with mourning, and of a quality beyond oration or tears. "Keep 'er a little more south, Billie," said he. "A little more south, sir,