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Table des matières
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent. [pseud.].
Affichage du livre entier - 1819
Expressions et termes fréquents
affection antiquity appearance arms attend authors Baron beauty become break brought castle character charms church close comfort common continually Dame deep distant door earth England English existence face fancy feelings flowers fortune friends give given grave green hand head heard heart hour interest keep kind lady land light living looked manner melancholy mind monument mountain nature neighbouring never noble observed once passed poet poor present pride quiet rich round rural scene seat seemed seen short side silent sometimes soon sorrow soul sound spirit steps story strange stranger sweet tell tender thing thought tion told tomb travels trees true turn village voice volume walls wandering whole wife window Winkle writers young
Page 88 - Rip's heart died away at hearing of these sad changes in his home and friends, and finding himself thus alone in the world. Every answer puzzled him, too, by treating of such enormous lapses of time and of matters which he could not understand: war — congress — Stony Point. He had no courage to ask after any more friends, but cried out in despair, "Does nobody here know Rip Van Winkle?" "Oh, Rip Van Winkle!" exclaimed two or three. "Oh, to be sure! That's Rip Van Winkle yonder, leaning against...
Page 76 - ... narrow gully, apparently the dry bed of a mountain torrent. As they ascended. Rip every now and then heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted.
Page 67 - The great error in Rip's composition was an insuperable aversion to all kinds of profitable labor. It could not be from the want of assiduity or perseverance ; for he would sit on a wet rock, with a rod as long and heavy as a Tartar's lance, and fish all day without a murmur, even though he should not be encouraged by a single nibble.
Page 78 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that, though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.
Page 73 - Wolf would wag his tail, look wistfully in his master's face, and if dogs can feel pity I verily believe he reciprocated the sentiment with all his heart.
Page 87 - It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors who used to keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? Name them.
Page 70 - The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.
Page 69 - If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family.
Page 90 - The bystanders began now to look at each other, nod, wink significantly, and tap their fingers against their foreheads. There was a whisper, also, about securing the gun, and keeping the old fellow from doing mischief, at the very suggestion of which the selfimportant man in the cocked hat retired with some precipitation.
Page 74 - He saw at a distance the lordly Hudson, far, far below him, moving on its silent but majestic course, with the reflection of a purple cloud, or the sail of a lagging bark,* here and there sleeping on its glassy bosom, and at last losing itself in the blue highlands.