Ben Burton, the Slate-pickerA.L. Burt, 1888 - 275 pages |
Common terms and phrases
ain't Amy Burton asked beat Ben's Bennie Burton Bennie's blind miner Bob Snaggles Buzzard's Roost child chute coal coal-breaker coal-dust cracker-boss cried David Burton Doctor Optic door ear infirmary Enoch Evans eye and ear face father fear felt flogged girl Grace hand HARRY CASTLEMON hastened head heard heart hope inmates Jimmy Jones kissed knew lash latter lion's mouth lips little Ben little Bennie little fellow little slate-picker look mamma Mick Muldoon mind morning mother never night Nock Old Vinegar Bottle pain papa Pinchtown poor-house Podge poet poet-miner poet-miner's poor rawhide replied rushing scene screen-room seemed sight slate sleep Smeeker sorrow stood suffering Superintendent Mapleton tears tell Terence O'Dowd thee thought told Tom Jones voice Widow Gordon wife Willie Willie Burton woman wonder wooden leg words وو
Popular passages
Page 115 - Nor did woman — oh woman ! whose form and whose soul Are the spell and the light of each path we pursue ! Whether sunn'd in the tropics or chill'd at the pole, If woman be there, there is happiness too ! Nor did she her enamouring magic deny, That magic.
Page 257 - The charmed repose to suffering dear. Still waits kind Nature to impart Her choicest gifts to such as gain An entrance to her loving heart Through the sharp discipline of pain. Forever from the Hand that takes One blessing from us others fall; And, soon or late, our Father makes His perfect recompense to all!
Page 1 - JR. JULIAN MORTIMER : or, A Brave Boy's Struggles for Home and Fortune. By HARRY CASTLEMON. ADRIFT IN THE WILDS ; or, The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. FRANK FOWLER, THE CASH BOY. By HORATIO ALOER, JR.
Page 5 - how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand to move the world, on a child's heart, — Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart? Our blood splashes upward, O goldheaper, And your purple shows your path ! But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence Than the strong man in his wrath !
Page 5 - If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping, We fall upon our faces, trying to go, And underneath our heavy eyelids, drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For all day we drag our burden, tiring, Through the coal-dark underground ; Or all day we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round.