Jenkinson's Smaller Practical Guide to the Isle of Wight |
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Afton Alum bay ancient appears Appuldurcombe Arreton ascent Ashey bathing beautiful Bembridge Black Gang boats Bonchurch Brading Brixton Brook building Calbourne Carisbrooke Castle Catherine's Chale chalk cliffs chapel Charles charming Chillerton chine church close Compton Cook's Castle cottages cove Culver Cliffs descend distance downs East Cowes entered erected estuary farther feet Freshwater Gate front Gatcombe George's Godshill ground Gurnard Bay Hotel Hurst Castle island Isle of Wight king Lake land landslips Lord manor house mansion Medina Messly miles monument Needles Newport Niton Oglander opposite coast Osborne house Parkhurst forest passing path picturesque pier pleasant present prospect railway residence river road rocks Ryde sand Sandown secluded seen Shanklin shore Shorwell side slope Solent spot station Steephill stone summit tourist towers of Osborne town traveller trees Undercliff Ventnor village walk wall West Cowes Whippingham wood Wootton Worsley obelisk Wroxall yards Yarmouth
Popular passages
Page 57 - Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand still. — How fearful And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
Page 125 - Man that is born of a woman is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : he fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.
Page 133 - The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years.
Page 57 - tis to cast one's eyes so low ! The crows, and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles. Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire ; dreadful trade ! Methinks he seems no bigger than his head. The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice ; and yon' tall, anchoring bark, Diminished to her cock ; her cock, a buoy Almost too small for sight.
Page 7 - She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Weigh the vessel up Once dreaded by our foes ! And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder. And plough the distant main : But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er ; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more.
Page 6 - Toll for the Brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave Whose courage well w.is tried, Had made the vessel heel And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds And she was overset ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Page 34 - It must be so — our father Adam's fall And disobedience, brought this lot on all. All die in him — but hopeless should we be, Blest Revelation, were it not for thee. Hail, glorious Gospel ! heavenly light, whereby We live with comfort, and with comfort die ; And view beyond this gloomy scene, the tomb, A life of endless happiness to come.
Page 53 - I had the spiritual charge of another parish, adjoining to that in which I resided. It was a small district, and had but few inhabitants. The church was pleasantly situated on a rising bank, at the foot of a considerable hill. It was surrounded by trees, and had a rural, retired appearance. Close to the churchyard stood a large old mansion, which had formerly been the residence of an opulent and titled family ; but it had long since been appropriated to the use of the estate as a farm-house. Its...
Page 6 - Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Page 34 - Forgive, blest shade, the tributary tear, That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, And stayed thy progress to the seats of bliss • No more confined to grov'ling scenes of night, No more a tenant pent in mortal clay, Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, And trace thy journey to the realms of day.