Once a Week, Volume 23

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Bradbury and Evans, 1870

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Página 202 - Murder? Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is; But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Página 67 - Oh, what a tangled web we weave, When first we practise to deceive!
Página 27 - The jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, and the police were put on their mettle to discover the unknown and daring murderer.
Página 99 - ... met, a pistol was put into his hand, which he fired, and was awakened by the report. On another occasion they found him asleep on the top of a locker...
Página 385 - Here lies Fred, Who was alive, and is dead. Had it been his father, I had much rather. Had it been his brother, Still better than another. Had it been his sister, No one would have missed her. Had it been the whole generation, Still better for the nation. But since 'tis only Fred, Who was alive, and is dead, There's no more to be said.
Página 240 - The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees, Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees ; Three centuries he grows, and three he stays, Supreme in state, and in three more decays...
Página 9 - B, which is in the red near the end of the spectrum ; c is farther advanced in the red ; D is in the orange ; E, in the green ; F, in the blue ; G, in the indigo ; and H, in the violet.
Página 132 - Changes of glorious light from moving boughs, songs of birds, scents from gardens, woods, and fields - or, rather, from the one great garden of the whole cultivated island in its yielding time penetrate into the Cathedral, subdue its earthy odour, and preach the Resurrection and the Life. The cold stone tombs of centuries ago grow warm, and flecks of brightness dart into the sternest marble corners of the building, fluttering there like wings.
Página 239 - Where last year's mould'ring leaves bestrew the ground, And o'er their heads, loud lash'd by furious squalls, Bright from their cups the rattling treasure falls ; Hot, thirsty food ; whence doubly sweet and cool The welcome margin of some rush-grown pool...
Página 153 - Allons, enfants de la Patrie, Le jour de gloire est arrivé, Contre nous de la tyrannie, L'étendard sanglant est levé.

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