The Novels, Stories and Sketches of F. Hopkinson Smith, Količina 23C. Scribner's Sons, 1915 |
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ain't asked beadle Becky better Bob Sawyer Bobby Brick called chair chambers CHAPTER charcoal Charles Dickens Cheshire Cheese chop church Club Cock Colonel corner Covent Garden Covent Garden Market cried crowd dear Dickens's dinner door doubt easel Evins eyes face famous fellow Fleet Street floor front Furnival's Inn Garrick Garrick Club gentleman glass Grewgious hand head hour Jermyn Street Lady Clara Lamb Court landlady light Little Dorrit lived London Bridge look Lord Lord Steyne loved morning never Newcome night o'clock once Pendennis Pickwick Raddle round Sam Weller seen side sketch Southwark Square stairs Staple Inn steps Steyne stool story taverns taxi tell Temple Thack Thackeray Thackeray's thing Thomas Light to-day told took voice waiter walk wall Warrington William Makepeace Thackeray window woman wondering young
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Stran 136 - IN these times of ours, though concerning the exact year there is no need to be precise, a boat of dirty and disreputable appearance, with two figures in it, floated on the Thames, between Southwark Bridge, which is of iron, and London Bridge, which is of stone, as an autumn evening was closing in.
Stran 192 - Newcome's hands outside the bed feebly beat a time. And just as the last bell struck, a peculiar sweet smile shone over his face, and he lifted up his head a little, and quickly said, " Adsum !
Stran 316 - Sir Roger de Coverley walking in the Temple Garden, and discoursing with Mr. Spectator about the beauties in hoops and patches who are sauntering over the grass, is just as lively a figure to me as old Samuel Johnson rolling through the fog with the Scotch gentleman at his heels on their way to Dr. Goldsmith's chambers in Brick Court ; or Harry Fielding, with inked ruffles and a wet towel round his head, dashing off articles at midnight for the Covent Garden Journal, while the printer's boy is asleep...
Stran 254 - How d'ye do, Crawley?" he said, the nerves of his mouth twitching as he tried to grin at the intruder. There was that in Rawdon's face which caused Becky to fling herself before him. "I am innocent, Rawdon," she said; "before God, I am innocent." She clung hold of his coat, of his hands; her own were all covered with serpents, and rings, and baubles. "I am innocent. — Say I am innocent,
Stran 255 - Throw them down," he said, and she dropped them. He tore the diamond ornament out of her breast and flung it at Lord Steyne. It cut him on his bald forehead. Steyne wore the scar to his dying day. "Come upstairs," Rawdon said to his wife. "Don't kill me, Rawdon," she said. He laughed savagely. — "I want to see if that man lies about the money as he has about me. Has he given you any?" "No," said Rebecca, "that is " "Give me your keys," Rawdon answered, and they went out together.
Stran 256 - Why have I alluded to this man? I have alluded to him, Reader, because I think I see in him an intellect profounder and more unique than his contemporaries have yet recognized ; because I regard him as the first social regenerator of the day — as the very master of that working corps who would restore to rectitude the warped system of things...
Stran 137 - ... or river-carrier ; there was no clue to what he looked for, but he looked for something, with a most intent and searching gaze. The tide, which had turned an hour before, was running down, and his eyes watched every little race and eddy in its broad sweep, as the boat made slight headway against, or drove stern foremost before it, according as he directed his daughter by a movement of his head.
Stran 279 - The two great national theatres on one side, a churchyard full of mouldy but undying celebrities on the other ; a fringe of houses studded in every part with anecdote and history ; an arcade often more gloomy and deserted than a cathedral aisle ; a rich cluster of brown, old taverns...
Stran 283 - The supper was elegant, and Johnson had directed that a magnificent hot apple-pie should make a part of it, and this he would have stuck with bay leaves, because, forsooth, Mrs. Lenox was an authoress, and had written verses ; and further, he had prepared for her a crown of laurel...
Stran 161 - We step cautiously and softly about, as if fearful of disturbing the hallowed silence of the tomb; while every...