Outing: Sport, Adventure, Travel, Fiction, Volume 40

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W. B. Holland., 1902
 

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Page 582 - A WET sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast, And fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast ; And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind...
Page 308 - Nay, let me tell you, there be many that have forty times our estates, that would give the greatest part of it to be healthful and cheerful like us, who, with the expense of a little money, have...
Page 562 - You'll smile, young fellah, but 'pon my word they might have been kinsmen. I couldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.
Page 587 - A LIFE on the ocean wave, A home on the rolling deep, Where the scattered waters rave, And the winds their revels keep! Like an eagle caged, I pine On this dull, unchanging shore: Oh! give me the flashing brine, The spray and the tempest's roar!
Page 583 - God, at whose command the ^"^ winds blow, and lift up the waves of the sea, and who stillest the rage thereof; We, thy creatures, but miserable sinners, do in this our great distress cry unto thee for help : Save, Lord, or else we perish.
Page 307 - The window, too, looks out above the river, and there's no music like a little river's. It plays the same tune (and that's the favourite) over and over again, and yet does not weary of it like men fiddlers. It takes the mind out of doors ; and though we should be grateful for good houses, there is, after all, no house like God's out-of-doors. And lastly, sir, it quiets a man down like saying his prayers.
Page 304 - Universe from their several stations, there was nothing in the Heavens above, or the earth beneath, or the waters under the earth...
Page 583 - O send thy word of command to rebuke the raging winds and the roaring sea ; that we, being delivered from this distress, may live to serve thee, and to glorify thy Name all the days of our life.
Page 696 - Settles down, on the side of the old canoe. The stern, half sunk in the slimy wave, Rots slowly away in its living grave, And the green moss creeps o'er its dull decay, Hiding...
Page 27 - The young squat still and flat, often running their heads under a leaf, and mind only their mother's directions given from a distance, nor will your approach make them run again and betray themselves.

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