Notes and Queries, Volumes 144-145

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Oxford University Press, 1923
 

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Page 153 - From that blessed little room, Roderick Random, Peregrine Pickle, Humphrey Clinker, Tom Jones, The Vicar of Wakefield, Don Quixote, Gil Bias, and Robinson Crusoe, came out, a glorious host, to keep me company.
Page 31 - twould a saint provoke," (Were the last words that poor Narcissa spoke ;} " No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face : One would not, sure, be frightful when one's dead — And — Betty — give this cheek a little red.
Page 414 - It is not so long since the first entry of this abuse amongst us here, as this present age cannot yet very well remember, both the first author, and the form of the first introduction of it amongst us.
Page 511 - The beauties of description in this book lie so very thick, that it is impossible to enumerate them in this paper. The poet has employed on them the whole energy of our tongue.
Page 450 - Just when we are safest, there's a sunset touch, A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death, A chorus-ending from Euripides, — And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears As old and new at once as nature's self, To rap and knock and enter in our soul, Take hands and dance there, a fantastic ring, Round the ancient idol, on his base again, — The grand Perhaps!
Page 389 - ... memory serves him, occupies between five and six hundred printed quarto pages, and must therefore have filled more pages of manuscript than the number mentioned in the text, has this quatrain at the end of the volume — With one good pen I wrote this book, Made of a grey goose quill ; A pen it was when it I took, And a pen I leave it still.
Page 23 - ... first happen. Now all the Rest and Residue of my personal Estate whatsoever and wheresoever (having no Real Estate to dispose of) I give and bequeath unto my Daughter Catherine Brown Widow and Relict of the late Colonel James Brown deceased and I do institute and appoint my good friend Henry Furness of the parish of St. James Westminster in the County of Middlesex...
Page 368 - High up in the North in the land called Svithjod, there stands a rock. It is a hundred miles high and a hundred miles wide. Once every thousand years a little bird comes to this rock to sharpen its beak. When the rock has thus been worn away, then a single day of eternity will have gone by.
Page 32 - Sussex, lately deceased, was not put in, wrapt up, or wound up, or buried in any shirt, shift, sheet, or shroud, made or mingled with flax, hemp, silk, hair, gold, or silver, or other than what is made of sheep's wool only...
Page 93 - But the mayor liked his company so well, and was grown so intimate, that he pursued him hastily, and, catching him fast by the hand, cried out with a vehement oath and accent, " Sir, you shall stay and take t'other bottle.

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