Selections from the Writings of Mrs. Margaret M. Davidson, the Mother of Lucretia Maria and Margaret M. DavidsonLea & Blanchard, 1843 - 272 sider |
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Side 17
... wagons and teams in the vicinity , for the purpose of transporting their baggage and military stores . From these movements , General Macomb , the American commander , was convinced that an attack was speedily meditated upon Platts ...
... wagons and teams in the vicinity , for the purpose of transporting their baggage and military stores . From these movements , General Macomb , the American commander , was convinced that an attack was speedily meditated upon Platts ...
Side 28
... wagons with all speed , feeling thankful that their own little pony was quietly feeding in the stable , ready to be put before the little pleasure wagon , any moment when the safety of the family should render it neces- sary for them to ...
... wagons with all speed , feeling thankful that their own little pony was quietly feeding in the stable , ready to be put before the little pleasure wagon , any moment when the safety of the family should render it neces- sary for them to ...
Side 29
... wagons which were constantly passing from Chazy and Cumberland- Head . She had hardly resolved upon this step , when she heard the sound of wagons ; on hailing one of them , to her infinite relief , she found it to be the pro- perty of ...
... wagons which were constantly passing from Chazy and Cumberland- Head . She had hardly resolved upon this step , when she heard the sound of wagons ; on hailing one of them , to her infinite relief , she found it to be the pro- perty of ...
Side 31
... wagons , which were expected at midnight . Her exertions were indeed almost superhuman : that was truly a night of dreadful anxiety . Oh ! how her heart beat as the couriers galloped by , and with stentorian voices pro- claimed the ...
... wagons , which were expected at midnight . Her exertions were indeed almost superhuman : that was truly a night of dreadful anxiety . Oh ! how her heart beat as the couriers galloped by , and with stentorian voices pro- claimed the ...
Side 35
... . The hour which had been named for the return of the husband had long since past ; the streets were still filled with loaded wagons and car- riages ; families were flying in order to keep before A FEW EVENTFUL DAYS IN 1814 . 335.
... . The hour which had been named for the return of the husband had long since past ; the streets were still filled with loaded wagons and car- riages ; families were flying in order to keep before A FEW EVENTFUL DAYS IN 1814 . 335.
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arms art thou bards battle beam beautiful blessings blood bosom bound brave breast bright brow Cairbar Calmar Carril chief cloud Connal cried Cromla's Cuthullin dark daughter dear death echoing enemy Erin Erin's eyes fair fame father fear feast feeble fight Fillan Fingal flowing tears Gaul grief hall hand hast hath heart heaven hero's heroes hill Horace Walpole husband king king of swords Lena's heath light Lochlin's lonely Lord loud maid mamma Margaret mighty Morna morning Morven's mother mournful neath night noble o'er Orpah Oscar Ossian pale peace Peru plain Plattsburgh Polly pride raise replied rise roaring rock roll Ruth Ryno scene shield side silent song sons soul sound spear spirit Stanley Starno's storm stream Swaran sweet sword tears thee thine thou tomb trembling Tura's Ullin valiant voice Volumes wagons warriors WASHINGTON IRVING waves wind young youth
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Side 152 - Saviour, who is Christ the Lord ; And this shall be the sign : The heavenly Babe you there shall find To human view displayed, All meanly wrapt in swathing bands, And in a manger laid.
Side 256 - ... promise of never returning to Ireland, in a hostile manner. The night is spent in settling Swaran's departure, in songs of bards, and in a conversation in which the story of Grumal is introduced by Fingal, Morning comes. Swaran departs ; Fingal goes on a hunting party, and finding Cuthullin in the cave of Tura, comforts him, and sets sail, the next day, for Scotland ; which concludes the poem.
Side 230 - Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife, my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But remember, my son, to place this sword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow house, whose mark is one grey stone ! Oscar, I have no love to leave to the care of my son.