Wilfrid Cumbermede

Wilfrid Cumbermede
Автор книги: id книги: 968380     Оценка: 0.0     Голосов: 0     Отзывы, комментарии: 0 0 руб.     (0$) Читать книгу Скачать бесплатно Купить бумажную книгу Электронная книга Жанр: Зарубежная классика Правообладатель и/или издательство: Public Domain Дата добавления в каталог КнигаЛит: Скачать фрагмент в формате   fb2   fb2.zip Возрастное ограничение: 0+ Оглавление Отрывок из книги

Реклама. ООО «ЛитРес», ИНН: 7719571260.

Оглавление

George MacDonald. Wilfrid Cumbermede

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER I. WHERE I FIND MYSELF

CHAPTER II. MY UNCLE AND AUNT

CHAPTER III. AT THE TOP OF THE CHIMNEY-STAIR

CHAPTER IV. THE PENDULUM

CHAPTER V. I HAVE LESSONS

CHAPTER VI. I COBBLE

CHAPTER VII. THE SWORD ON THE WALL

CHAPTER VIII. I GO TO SCHOOL, AND GRANNIE LEAVES IT

CHAPTER IX. I SIN AND REPENT

CHAPTER X. I BUILD CASTLES

CHAPTER XI. A TALK WITH MY UNCLE

CHAPTER XII. THE HOUSE-STEWARD

CHAPTER XIII. THE LEADS

CHAPTER XIV. THE GHOST

CHAPTER XV. AWAY

CHAPTER XVI. THE ICE-CAVE

CHAPTER XVII. AMONG THE MOUNTAINS

CHAPTER XVIII. AGAIN THE ICE-CAVE

CHAPTER XIX. CHARLEY NURSES ME

CHAPTER XX. A DREAM

CHAPTER XXI. THE FROZEN STREAM

CHAPTER XXII. AN EXPLOSION

CHAPTER XXIII. ONLY A LINK

CHAPTER XXIV. CHARLEY AT OXFORD

CHAPTER XXV. MY WHITE MARE

CHAPTER XXVI. A RIDING LESSON

CHAPTER XXVII. A DISAPPOINTMENT

CHAPTER XXVIII. IN LONDON

CHAPTER XXIX. CHANGES

CHAPTER XXX. PROPOSALS

CHAPTER XXXI. ARRANGEMENTS

CHAPTER XXXII. PREPARATIONS

CHAPTER XXXIII. ASSISTANCE

CHAPTER XXXIV. AN EXPOSTULATION

CHAPTER XXXV. A TALK WITH CHARLEY

CHAPTER XXXVI. TAPESTRY

CHAPTER XXXVII. THE OLD CHEST

CHAPTER XXXVIII. MARY OSBORNE

CHAPTER XXXIX. A STORM

CHAPTER XL. A DREAM

CHAPTER XLI. A WAKING

CHAPTER XLII. A TALK ABOUT SUICIDE

CHAPTER XLIII. THE SWORD IN THE SCALE

CHAPTER XLIV. I PART WITH MY SWORD

CHAPTER XLV. UMBERDEN CHURCH

CHAPTER XLVI. MY FOLIO

CHAPTER XLVII. THE LETTERS AND THEIR STORY

CHAPTER XLVIII. ONLY A LINK

CHAPTER XLIX. A DISCLOSURE

CHAPTER L. THE DATES

CHAPTER LI. CHARLEY AND CLARA

CHAPTER LII. LILITH MEETS WITH A MISFORTUNE

CHAPTER LIII. TOO LATE

CHAPTER LIV. ISOLATION

CHAPTER LV. ATTEMPTS AND COINCIDENCES

CHAPTER LVI. THE LAST VISION

CHAPTER LVII. ANOTHER DREAM

CHAPTER LVIII. THE DARKEST HOUR

CHAPTER LIX. THE DAWN

CHAPTER LX. MY GREAT-GRANDMOTHER

CHAPTER LXI. THE PARISH REGISTER

CHAPTER LXII. A FOOLISH TRIUMPH

CHAPTER LXIII. A COLLISION

CHAPTER LXIV. YET ONCE

CHAPTER LXV. CONCLUSION

Отрывок из книги

No wisest chicken, I presume, can recall the first moment when the chalk-oval surrounding it gave way, and instead of the cavern of limestone which its experience might have led it to expect, it found a world of air and movement and freedom and blue sky—with kites in it. For my own part, I often wished, when a child, that I had watched while God was making me, so that I might have remembered how he did it. Now my wonder is whether, when I creep forth into ‘that new world which is the old,’ I shall be conscious of the birth, and enjoy the whole mighty surprise, or whether I shall become gradually aware that things are changed and stare about me like the new-born baby. What will be the candle-flame that shall first attract my new-born sight? But I forget that speculation about the new life is not writing the history of the old.

I have often tried how far back my memory could go. I suspect there are awfully ancient shadows mingling with our memories; but, as far as I can judge, the earliest definite memory I have is the discovery of how the wind is made; for I saw the process going on before my very eyes, and there could be, and there was, no doubt of the relation of cause and effect in the matter. There were the trees swaying themselves about after the wildest fashion, and there was the wind in consequence visiting my person somewhat too roughly. The trees were blowing in my face. They made the wind, and threw it at me. I used my natural senses, and this was what they told me. The discovery impressed me so deeply that even now I cannot look upon trees without a certain indescribable and, but for this remembrance, unaccountable awe. A grove was to me for many years a fountain of winds, and, in the stillest day, to look into a depth of gathered stems filled me with dismay; for the whole awful assembly might, writhing together in earnest and effectual contortion, at any moment begin their fearful task of churning the wind.

.....

‘Will you bring it me just as it is. I want to look for something in it.’

I went and brought it with shame. He took it, and having found the passage he wanted, turned the volume once over in his hands, and gave it me back without a word.

.....

Добавление нового отзыва

Комментарий Поле, отмеченное звёздочкой  — обязательно к заполнению

Отзывы и комментарии читателей

Нет рецензий. Будьте первым, кто напишет рецензию на книгу Wilfrid Cumbermede
Подняться наверх