Master Humphrey's Clock, àÅèÁ·Õè 1

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William H. Colyer, 1841 - 214 ˹éÒ
 

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˹éÒ 111 - Oh! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away.
˹éÒ 216 - ... folded to his breast, for warmth. It was the hand she had stretched out to him with her last smile - the hand that had led him on through all their wanderings. Ever and anon he pressed it to his lips; then hugged it to his breast again, murmuring that it was warmer now; and as he said it he looked, in agony, to those who stood around, as if imploring them to help her.
˹éÒ 41 - I love these little people ; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.
˹éÒ 246 - Please wave it at the window," was the faint reply. "Tie it to the lattice. Some of them may see it there. Perhaps they'll think of me, and look this way.
˹éÒ 215 - No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon. She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life ; not one who had lived and suffered death. Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor.
˹éÒ 217 - But when he saw her little favourite, he was moved as they had not seen him yet, and made as though he would have him come nearer. Then, pointing to the bed, he burst into tears for the first time ; and they who stood by, knowing that the sight of this child had done him good, left them alone together. Soothing him with his artless...
˹éÒ 216 - She had been dead two days. They were all about her at the time, knowing that the end was drawing on. She died soon after daybreak. They had read and talked to her in the earlier portion of the night, but as the hours crept on, she sunk to sleep.
˹éÒ 48 - ... and still, before, behind, and to the right and left, was the same interminable perspective of brick towers , never ceasing in their black vomit, blasting all things living or inanimate, shutting out the face of day, and closing in on all these horrors with a dense dark cloud.
˹éÒ 38 - ... the stream of life that will not stop, pouring on, on, on, through all his restless dreams, as if he were condemned to lie, dead but conscious, in a noisy church-yard, and had no hope of rest for centuries to come...
˹éÒ 148 - Drink of this cup, you'll find there's a spell in its every drop 'gainst the ills of mortality. Talk of the cordial that sparkled for Helen ! Her cup was a fiction, but this is reality (Barclay and Co.'s). If they ever send it in a flat state, complain to the Governor. Yours, RS" " RS ! " said Kit, after some consideration.

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