The Autocrat of the Breakfast-table: Every Man His Own Boswell

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Houghton, Mifflin and Company, 1886 - 403 pages

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Page 116 - Year after year beheld the silent toil That spread his lustrous coil ; Still, as the spiral grew, He left the past year's dwelling for the new, Stole with soft step its shining archway through, Built up its idle door, Stretched in his last-found home, and knew the old no more. Thanks for the heavenly message brought by thee, Child of the wandering sea, Cast from her lap, forlorn ! From thy dead lips a clearer note is born Than ever Triton blew from wreathed horn ! While on mine ear it rings, Through...
Page 312 - The parson was working his Sunday's text, Had got to fifthly, and stopped perplexed At what the -Moses - was coming next. All at once the horse stood still, Close by the meet'n'-house on the hill First a shiver, and then a thrill, Then something decidedly like a spill.
Page 310 - So the Deacon inquired of the village folk Where he could find the strongest oak, That could n't be split nor bent nor broke, — That was for spokes and floor and sills; He sent for lancewood to make the thills; The crossbars were ash, from the straightest trees, The panels of white-wood, that cuts like cheese, But lasts like iron for things like these; The hubs of logs from the "Settler's ellum...
Page 310 - Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and wide ; Boot, top, dasher, from tough old hide Found in the pit when the tanner died. That was the way he
Page 309 - Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss shay, That was built in such a logical way It ran a hundred years to a day, And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but stay...
Page 328 - An easy gait — two, forty-five — Suits me ; I do not care; — Perhaps, for just a single spurt, Some seconds less would do no hurt, Of pictures, I should like to own Titians and Raphaels three or four, — I love so much their style and tone, — One Turner...
Page 309 - Secundus was then alive, — Snuffy old drone from the German hive ! That was the year when Lisbon-town Saw the earth open and gulp her down, And Braddock's army was done so brown, Left without a scalp to its crown.
Page 327 - I only wish a hut of stone (A very plain brown stone will do) That I may call my own ; And close at hand is such a one, In yonder street that fronts the sun. Plain food is quite enough for me; Three courses are as good as ten ; If Nature can subsist on three, Thank Heaven for three — Amen ! I always thought cold victual nice,— My choice would be...
Page 329 - Some little luxury there Of red morocco's gilded gleam, And vellum rich as country cream. Busts, cameos, gems, — such things as these, Which others often show for pride...
Page 311 - Little of all we value here Wakes on the morn of its hundredth year Without both feeling and looking queer. In fact, there's nothing that keeps its youth, So far as I know, but a tree and truth.

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