The Windsor Magazine: An Illustrated Monthly for Men and Women, Zväzok 1Ward, Lock and Bowden, Limited, 1895 |
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Agatha answered Arthur Morrison asked bank Baxter beautiful Beckenham better boat Bournemouth called Captain Bontner Cecil Aldin Challoner colour course Crellan d'Erraha dark daughter dear door dress Duchess of Kent England eyes face fact father Fitz girl give Guy Boothby hair hand Harrington Hatita Hatteras head Hewitt Illustrated Ingham-Baker Kingscote knew lady Lloseta London looked Louis Wain Luke Mafferty Majorca marriage Martin Hewitt means mind Miss Garth morning never night Nikola Norman Gale once paper passed perhaps present pretty remember replied ring round Saffron Hill seemed seen side smile Sneathy sort standing stood street sword tell there's thing thought tion told took turned walked watch West India Docks window WINDSOR MAGAZINE woman women young
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Strana 216 - Requiem Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I laid me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from sea, And the hunter home from the hill.
Strana 469 - The common problem, yours, mine, every one's, Is — not to fancy what were fair in life Provided it could be, — but, finding first What may be, then find how to make it fair Up to our means: a very different thing!
Strana 443 - Doon, To see the rose and woodbine twine; And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And fondly sae did I o...
Strana 469 - You may estimate your capacity for Comic perception by being able to detect the ridicule of them you love, without loving them less : and more by being able to see yourself somewhat ridiculous in dear eyes, and accepting the correction their image of you proposes.
Strana 309 - A dirtier or more wretched place he had never seen. The street was very narrow and muddy, and the air was impregnated with filthy odours. There were a good many small shops ; but the only stock in trade appeared to be heaps of children, who, even at that time of night, were crawling in and out at the doors, or screaming from the inside. The sole places that seemed to prosper amid the general blight of the place were the publichouses...
Strana 112 - But London was never so ill as it is now. In times past men were full of pity and compassion, but now there is no pity; for in London their brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick at the door between stock and stock, I cannot tell what to call it, and perish there for hunger: was there ever more unmercifulness in Nebo?
Strana 469 - Brigham was married again — to a young and really pretty girl but he says he shall stop now. He told me confidentially that he shouldn't get married any more. He says that all he wants now is to live in peace for the remainder of his days — and have his dying pillow soothed by the loving hands of his family. Well — that's all right that's all right — I suppose but if all his family soothe his dying pillow — he'll have to go out-doors to die.
Strana 70 - Whatsoever sensibly exists, whatsoever represents Spirit to Spirit, is properly a Clothing, a suit of Raiment, put on for a season, and to be laid ofF. Thus in this one pregnant subject of CLOTHES, rightly understood, is included all that men have thought, dreamed, done, and been: the whole External Universe and what it holds is but Clothing; and the essence of all Science lies in the PHILOSOPHY OF CLOTHES.
Strana 308 - They crossed from the Angel into St. John's Road; struck down the small street which terminates at Sadler's Wells Theatre; through Exmouth Street and Coppice Row; down the little court by the side of the workhouse; across the classic ground which once bore the name of Hockley-in-theHole; thence into Little Saffron Hill; and so into Saffron Hill the Great: along which the Dodger scudded at a rapid pace, directing Oliver to follow close at his heels.
Strana 304 - THE stormy March is come at last, With wind, and cloud, and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast, That through the snowy valley flies. Ah, passing few are they who speak, Wild stormy month! in praise of thee ; Yet, though thy winds are loud and bleak, Thou art a welcome month to me.