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American appeared arms artistic Ashburn asked beautiful began Berenice black horse Boston boys Brander Matthews Bret Harte character child clouds dark Decameron door Duchess emperor Ethan Brand Eunice's eyes face fancy feel felt gave glance glove Graham's Magazine Hammond hand Hawthorne Hawthorne's head heard heart Hentz hour instant Keene knew lady Ligeia light literary little seamstress lived looked Mam'selle ment Metzengerstein mind Miss Eunice Morella morning Mother Shipton mountain Nabajo narrative never night notary Oakhurst Old Maid once passed Peter Rugg piece Piney Poe's Poker Flat poor reached replied Rip Van Winkle Rugg's horse scene seemed seen shadow short story side silence sketches soon step stood strange stranger street suddenly sure Szema tale Teh-leen tell terror things thought tion toll-gatherer took turned Usher village whole window woman word young Yuentsoong
155. oldal - DURING the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country ; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
55. oldal - ... and keep a guardian eye upon the river, and the great city called by his name. That his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at nine-pins in a hollow of the mountain; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder. To make a long story short, the company broke up, and returned to the more important concerns of the election.
43. oldal - For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, which held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of his Majesty George the Third. Here they used to sit in the shade through a long lazy summer's day, talking listlessly over village gossip or telling endless sleepy stories about nothing.
53. oldal - He doubted his own identity, and whether he was himself or another man. In the midst of his bewilderment, the man in the cocked hat demanded who he was, and what was his name? "God knows," exclaimed he, at his wit's end.
50. oldal - Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap...
50. oldal - That flagon last night," thought he, " has addled my poor head sadly ! " It was with some difficulty that he found the way to his own house, which he approached with silent awe, expecting every moment to hear the shrill voice of Dame Van Winkle. He found the house gone to decay, the roof fallen in, the windows shattered and the doors off the hinges. A halfstarved dog, that looked like Wolf, was skulking about it. Rip called him by name, but the cur snarled, shewed his teeth, and passed on. This was...
167. oldal - ... the method of collocation of these stones — in the order of their arrangement, as well as in that of the many fungi which overspread them, and of the decayed trees which stood around — above all, in the long, undisturbed endurance of this arrangement, and in its reduplication in the still waters of the tarn. Its evidence — the evidence of the sentience — was to be seen, he said (and I here started as he spoke), in the gradual yet certain condensation of an atmosphere of their own about...
56. oldal - The old Dutch inhabitants, however, almost universally gave it full credit. Even to this day they never hear a thunder-storm of a summer afternoon about the Kaatskill, but they say Hendrick Hudson and his crew are at their game of ninepins ; and it is a common wish of all henpecked husbands in the neighborhood, when life hangs heavy on their hands, that they might have a quieting draught out of Rip Van Winkle's flagon.
174. oldal - ... the rending of her coffin, and the grating of the iron hinges of her prison, and her struggles within the coppered archway of the vault ! Oh whither shall I fly ? Will she not be here anon ? Is she not hurrying to upbraid me for my haste ? Have I not heard her footstep on the stair ? Do I not distinguish that heavy and horrible beating of her heart? Madman...
51. oldal - The orator bustled up to him, and drawing him partly aside, inquired, "on which side he voted?" Rip stared in vacant stupidity. Another short but busy little fellow pulled him by the arm, and rising on tiptoe, inquired in his ear, "whether he was Federal or Democrat.