The Turkish spies Ali Abubeker Kaled, and Zenobia Marrita Mustapha, or, the Mohammedan prophet of 1854: a true history of the Russo-Turkish war, المجلد 17
A.R. Orton., 1855 - 267 من الصفحات
ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
لم نعثر على أي مراجعات في الأماكن المعتادة.
طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
acquainted Albert Allah arms asked attack beautiful became Bellair Benicia Bowie knife brother cabin captain Charles Charlotte Circassian Cornelins cried crime dark death Derienni Don Miguel door dress drew Emperor entered escape eyes face father favorite wife fear fell fire floor followed Fontainbleau friends gave gazed girl gold Gortschakoff Grovenor hand Handermoff head heard heart Helen horses hour Julia knew knife knout leave lips look manner Margaret Marritta minutes mother murder Murrell night Nina Omer Pasha Pacha Panama passed pirate pocket prisoner reached replied returned rushed Russians sabre schooner seated shouted sister slave smile soon speak splendid sprang stood street Sultan thee thou thought thousand dollars told took Torinda Tuolumne City Turkey Turks turned vessel voice walked woman words Wyckoff young lady
الصفحة 70 - Ours the wild life in tumult still to range From toil to rest, and joy in every change. Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave! Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave; Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
الصفحة 70 - O'ER the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
الصفحة 70 - When lost— what recks it — by disease or strife ? Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay, Cling to his couch, and sicken years away, Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head ; Ours— the fresh turf, and not the feverish bed.
الصفحة 70 - Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried, And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide, The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play, That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
الصفحة 143 - I'm going to be immoral ; now I mean to show things really as they are, Not as they ought to be : for I avow, That till we see what's what in fact, we're far From much improvement...
الصفحة 219 - And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes, Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, The world is not thy friend, nor the world's law: The world affords no law to make thee rich; Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.
الصفحة 207 - What boots it, on the lineal tree to trace, Through many a branch, the founders of our race, Time-honored chiefs ; if, in their sight, we give A loose to vice, and like low villains live?
الصفحة 209 - Bartsia, in his painted vest Of green and crimson. Tut! enough, enough, Your madcap fancy runs too riot, girl. We must shut up your books of Botany, And give you graver studies.