Sketches by Boz, Vol. I ~ Paperbound ~ Paperbound

Front Cover
Classic Books Company

From inside the book

Contents

CHAPTER XVIII
177
CHAPTER XIX
190
CHAPTER XX
197
CHAPTER XXII
212
CHAPTER XXIII
219
CHAPTER XXIV
228
CHAPTER XXV
234
CHARACTERS
251

CHAPTER III
69
CHAPTER IV
75
CHAPTER V
81
CHAPTER VI
87
CHAPTER VII
95
CHAPTER VIII
100
CHAPTER IX
107
CHAPTER X
113
Astleys
121
CHAPTER XII
129
CHAPTER XIII
139
CHAPTER XIV
147
CHAPTER XV
154
CHAPTER XVI
161
CHAPTER II
257
CHAPTER III
263
CHAPTER IV
269
The Parlour Orator
275
CHAPTER VI
281
CHAPTER VII
286
CHAPTER VIII
293
CHAPTER IX
300
CHAPTER X
307
CHAPTER XII
319
The Boardinghouse
323
CHAPTER II
367
CHAPTER III
380

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Page 258 - One little seat may be empty ; one slight form that gladdened the father's heart, and roused the mother's pride to look upon, may not be there. Dwell not upon the past ; think not that one short year ago, the fair child now resolving into dust, sat before you, with the bloom of health upon its cheek, and the gaiety of infancy in its joyous eye.
Page 111 - ... parties arriving every moment, look as warm as the tables which have been recently painted, and have the appearance of being redhot. What a dust and noise! Men and women — boys and girls — sweethearts and married people — babies in arms, and children in chaises — pipes and shrimps — cigars and periwinkles — tea and tobacco. Gentlemen, in alarming waistcoats, and steel watch-guards, promenading about, three abreast, with surprising dignity (or as the gentleman in the next box facetiously...
Page v - I walked down to Westminster Hall, and turned into it for half an hour, because my eyes were so dimmed with joy and pride, that they could not bear the street, and were not fit to be seen there.
Page 308 - ... old shoes from slipping off at the heels, — if you observe too that his yellowish-white neckerchief is carefully pinned up, to conceal the tattered garment underneath, and that his hands are encased in the remains of an old pair of beaver gloves , you may set him down as a shabbygenteel man. A glance at that depressed face, and timorous air of conscious poverty , will make your heart ache — always supposing that you are neither a philosopher, nor a political economist.

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