Melibœus-Hipponax: The Biglow papers. Second series

Ticknor & Fields, 1867 - 258页




第lxxvii页 - There warn't no stoves (tell comfort died) To bake ye to a puddin'. The wa'nut logs shot sparkles out Towards the pootiest, bless her, An' leetle flames danced all about The chiny on the dresser. Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung, An' in amongst 'em rusted The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther Young Fetched back f'om Concord busted.
第40页 - Perhaps it was right to dissemble your love, But why did you kick me down stairs...
第216页 - Under the yaller-pines I house. When sunshine makes "em all sweetscented, An' hear among their furry boughs The baskin' west-wind purr contented, While 'way o'erhead, ez sweet an...
第lxxvii页 - GOD makes sech nights, all white an' still Fur 'z you can look or listen, Moonshine an' snow on field an' hill, All silence an' all glisten. Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown An' peeked in thru' the winder. An' there sot Huldy all alone, 'Ith no one nigh to hender.
第80页 - It is a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation; for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over to their country to the discredit of the plantation.
第159页 - Sabbath arter meetin'-time : Findin' my feelin's would n't noways rhyme With nobody's, but off the hendle flew An' took things from an east-wind pint o' view, I started off to lose me in the hills Where the pines be, up back o...
第218页 - em growin', Three likely lads ez wal could be, Hahnsome an' brave an' not tu knowin'? I set an' look into the blaze Whose natur', jes' like theirn, keeps climbin', Ez long 'z it lives, in shinin' ways, An' half despise myself for rhymin'.
第ix页 - In choosing the Yankee dialect, I did not aofc without forethought. It had long seemed to me that the great vice of American writing and speaking was a studied— want of -simplicity, that we were in danger of coming to look on our mother-tongue as a dead language, to be sought in the grammar and dictionary rather than in the heart, and that our only chance of escape was by seeking it at its living sources among those who were, as Scottowe says of Major-General Gibbons,
第lxxx页 - em slips, Huldy sot pale ez ashes, All kin' o' smily roun' the lips An' teary roun' the lashes. For she was jes' the quiet kind Whose naturs never vary, Like streams that keep a summer mind Snowhid in Jenooary. The blood clost roun' her heart felt glued Too tight for all expressin', Tell mother see how metters stood, An' gin 'em both her blessin'. Then her red come back like the tide Down to the Bay o' Fundy, An' all I know is they was cried In meetin' come nex
第151页 - GENTLEMEN, — At the special request of Mr. Biglow, I intended to inclose, together with his own contribution, (into which, at my suggestion, he has thrown a little more of pastoral sentiment than usual,) some passages from my sermon on the day of the National Fast, from the text, " Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with them,