A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy, 2. köide

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T. Becket and P.A. De Hondt, 1770

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Page 22 - Make the most of it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another word for a tower ;— and a tower is but another word for a house you can't get out of. — Mercy on the gouty ! for they are in it twice a year. — But with nine livres a day, and pen and ink and paper and patience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well within...
Page 24 - I looked up and down the passage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor child, I went out without further attention. In my return back through the passage, I heard the same words repeated twice over; and looking up, I saw it was a starling hung in a little cage ; " I can't get out, I can't get out,
Page 191 - His wife sung now and then a little to the tune, then intermitted, and joined her old man again as their children and grandchildren danced before them.
Page 175 - As she told me this, she took the handkerchief out of her pocket to let me see it : she had folded it up neatly in a couple of vine leaves, tied round with a tendril ; on opening it, I saw an S marked in one of the corners.
Page 32 - ... there. He had one of these little sticks in his hand, and with a rusty nail he was etching another day of misery to add to the heap. As I darkened 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...
Page 31 - Upon looking nearer, 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.
Page 29 - The bird in his cage pursued me into my room. I sat down close to 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, and so I gave full scope to my imagination. I was going to begin with the millions of my...
Page 192 - I should have looked upon it now as one of the illusions of an imagination which is eternally misleading me, had not the old man, as soon as the dance ended, said that this was their constant way; and that all his life long he had made it a rule, after supper was over, to call out his family to dance and rejoice; believing, he said, that a cheerful and contented mind was the best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illiterate peasant could pay Or a learned prelate either, said I.
Page 27 - Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still, Slavery! said I ' still thou art a bitter draught! and though thousands in all ages have been made to drink of thee, thou art no less bitter on that account.
Page 173 - I felt such undescribable emotions within me, as I am sure could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.

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