Routledge's Every Boy's Annual

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Routledge, Warne & Routledge, 1865

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Page 754 - Where many a time he triumph'd, is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired, Where grey-beard mirth, and smiling toil retired, Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound, And news much older than their ale went round.
Page 749 - I received one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that I would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly.
Page 568 - May the great God whom I worship grant to my country, and for the benefit of Europe in general, a great and glorious victory, and may no misconduct in any one tarnish it ; and may humanity after victory be the predominant feature in the British fleet...
Page 44 - I went by the field of the slothful, and by the vineyard of the man void of understanding ; And, lo, it was all grown over with thorns, and nettles had covered the face thereof, and the stone wall thereof was broken down.
Page 750 - I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. He then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady I should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller sold it for sixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill.
Page 62 - I shall bid an eternal adieu to all the pains, and uneasiness, and disquietudes of this weary life ; for I assure you, I am heartily tired of it, and if I do not very much deceive myself, I could contentedly and gladly resign it. " The soul uneasy and confined at home, " Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
Page 635 - A SWARM of bees in May Is worth a load of hay; A swarm of bees in June Is worth a silver spoon; A swarm of bees in July Is not worth a fly.
Page 749 - I perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of Madeira and a glass before him. I put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated.
Page 473 - A talebearer revealeth secrets : but he that is of a faithful spirit concealeth the matter.

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