Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
ancient antiquated beautiful bosom Bracebridge Canonchet castle character charm cheer Christmas church churchyard companion cottage countenance customs Dame dance delight distant door earth Eastcheap face fancy favourite feelings fire flowers gathered grave green hall hand head heard heart holyday honour hung Ichabod Ichabod Crane Indian Izaak Walton John Bull Justice Shallow kind lady Lambs land Little Britain living look mansion Master Simon merry mind mingled monuments morning nature neighbourhood neighbouring never night noble old English old gentleman once parson passed Philip poet Pokanoket poor pride quiet renegado Rip Van Winkle round rural Sachem scene seemed Shakspeare Sleepy Hollow sometimes song sorrow sound spectre spirit Squire story Stratford sweet tender thing Thomas Lucy thought tion tomb tower trees tribes village Wampanoags wandering warrior Wassail whole wild window Winkle worthy young
Seite 47 - Rip Van Winkle, however, was one of those happy mortals, of foolish, well-oiled dispositions, who take the world easy, eat white bread or brown, whichever can be got with least thought or trouble, and would rather starve on a penny than work for a pound. If left to himself, he would have whistled life away in perfect contentment ; but his wife kept continually dinning in his ears about his idleness, his carelessness, and the ruin he was bringing on his family.
Seite 53 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.
Seite 55 - ... came tumbling in a sheet of feathery foam, and fell into a broad deep basin, black from the shadows of the surrounding forest. Here, then, poor Rip was brought to a stand. He again called and whistled after his dog ; he was only answered by the cawing of a flock of idle crows, sporting high in air about a dry tree that overhung a sunny precipice ; and who, secure in their elevation, seemed to look down and scoff at the poor man's perplexities.
Seite 48 - ... and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue ? The moment Wolf entered the house his crest fell, his tail drooped to the ground, or curled between his legs, he sneaked about with a gallows air, casting many a sidelong glance at Dame Van Winkle, and at the least flourish of a broomstick or ladle he would fly to the door with yelping precipitation.
Seite 50 - ... cliffs and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!
Seite 60 - A tory! A tory! A spy! A refugee! Hustle him! Away with him!" It was with great difficulty that the self-important man in the cocked hat restored order; and, having assumed a tenfold austerity of brow, demanded again of the unknown culprit, what he came there for and whom he was seeking. The poor man humbly assured him that he meant no harm, but merely came there in search of some of his neighbors who used to keep about the tavern. "Well, who are they? Name them.
Seite 52 - As they ascended, Rip, every now and then, heard long rolling peals, like distant thunder, that seemed to issue out of a deep ravine, or rather cleft between lofty rocks, toward which their rugged path conducted.
Seite 11 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Seite 43 - WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson, must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country.