Punch, Volums 32-33

Portada
Mark Lemon, Henry Mayhew, Tom Taylor, Shirley Brooks, Sir Francis Cowley Burnand, Sir Owen Seaman
Punch Publications Limited, 1857
 

Quč opinen els usuaris - Escriviu una ressenya

No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.

Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot

Frases i termes més freqüents

Passatges populars

Pāgina 72 - Oh! but to breathe the breath Of the cowslip and primrose sweet. With the sky above my head. And the grass beneath my feet ; For only one short hour To feel as I used to feel, Before I knew the woes of want And the walk that costs a meal!
Pāgina 219 - a should not think of God; I hoped there was no need to trouble himself with any such thoughts yet. So 'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put my hand into the bed and felt them, and they were as cold as any stone; then I felt to his knees, and so upward and upward, and all was as cold as any stone.
Pāgina 219 - A' made a finer end and went away an it had been any christom child; a' parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide: for after I saw him fumble with the sheets and play with flowers and smile upon his fingers...
Pāgina 140 - I feel an humble confidence that the kind Providence which inspired our fathers with wisdom to frame the most perfect form of government and union ever devised by man will not suffer it to perish until it shall have been peacefully instrumental by its example in the extension of civil and religious liberty throughout the world.
Pāgina 112 - ... the little light he had, he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, then cast it down, shook his head, and went on with his work of affliction. I heard his chains upon his legs, as he turned his body to lay his little stick upon the bundle. He gave a deep sigh; I saw the iron enter into his soul. I burst into tears. I could not sustain the picture of confinement which my fancy had drawn.
Pāgina 122 - Rockabye Baby, on the tree top, When the wind blows the cradle will rock, When the bough breaks the cradle will fall, Down will come baby, cradle and all.
Pāgina 112 - I saw him pale and feverish ; in thirty years the western breeze had not once fanned his blood, — he had seen no sun, no moon, in all that time, nor had the voice of friend or kinsman breathed through his lattice; — his children — But here my heart began to bleed, and I was forced to go on with another part of the portrait.
Pāgina 112 - I sat down close by my table, and leaning my head upon my hand, I began to figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, so I gave full scope to my imagination. I was going to begin with the millions of my fellowcreatures born to no inheritance but slavery; but finding, however affecting the picture was, that I could not bring it near me, and that the...

Informaciķ bibliogrāfica