The phantom 'rickshaw and other storiesCharles Scribner's sons, 1899 |
Istilah dan frasa umum
afraid Ahutosh Lal Deb answer Bashkai beast Bertran Billy Fish Bimi boat bungalow Carnehan Challong Charlie children of men coolies Daniel Dravot dead death deck dere devil Dowse Dumoise eyes face Fleete Fleete's Flores Strait Frithiof ghost Girl give Grish Chunder Gunga Gunga Dass half hand Hanuman head heard Heatherlegh horse Hummil Imray India John Hay Kafiristan Keller killed King Kitty knew laughed light looked Lowndes Marwar miles morning Mottram Mumrath never night once Peachey Peshawar Pornic priests punkah Rathmines Reingelder remember rickshaw road round RUDYARD KIPLING Sahib sand says Dravot ship side Simla singing sleep song Spurstow steamer stood story streaks Strick Strickland talk tell There's thing Tietjens told took turned verandah village voice waiting walked watching Wessington woman
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Halaman 44 - ... wholesome horror of English newspapers, which may throw light on their peculiar methods of government, and do their best to choke correspondents with champagne, or drive them out of their mind with four-in-hand barouches. They do not understand that nobody cares a straw for the internal administration of Native States so long as oppression and crime are kept within decent limits, and the ruler is not drugged, drunk, or diseased from one end of the year to the other. They are the dark places of...
Halaman 112 - Spanish sailors with bearded lips, And the beauty and mystery of the ships, And the magic of the sea. And the voice of that wayward song Is singing and saying still: 'A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.
Halaman 54 - And that's all we know, except that no one has gone there, and they fight, and in any place where they fight a man who knows how to drill men can always be a King. We shall go to those parts and say to any King we find — 'D'you want to vanquish your foes?
Halaman 51 - said the smaller of the two. He was the man I had met in the Mhow train, and his fellow was the red-bearded man of Marwar Junction. There was no mistaking the eyebrows of the one or the beard of the other. I was not pleased, because I wished to go to sleep, not to squabble with loafers. "What do you want?" I asked. "Half an hour's talk with you cool and comfortable, in the office," said the red-bearded man. "We'd like some drink — the Contrack doesn't begin yet, Peachey, so you needn't look —...
Halaman 40 - Budget, which necessitated travelling, not Second-class, which is only half as dear as First-class, but by Intermediate, which is very awful indeed. There are no cushions in the Intermediate class, and the population are either Intermediate, which is Eurasian, or native, which for a long night journey is nasty, or Loafer, which is amusing though intoxicated. Intermediates do not buy from refreshment-rooms.
Halaman 64 - Lord!' I was more than a little astonished, and expressed my feelings accordingly. 'It's true,' said Carnehan, with a dry cackle, nursing his feet, which were wrapped in rags. 'True as gospel. Kings we were, with crowns upon our heads - me and Dravot - poor Dan - oh, poor, poor Dan, that would never take advice, not though I begged of him!
Halaman 120 - What was that?" said Olaf, standing On the quarter-deck. "Something heard I like the stranding Of a shattered wreck.
Halaman 288 - MY OWN TRUE GHOST STORY As I came through the Desert thus it was — As I came through the Desert.
Halaman 26 - Singing and murmuring in her feastful mirth, Joying to feel herself alive, Lord over Nature, Lord of the visible earth, Lord of the senses five ; Communing with herself : ' All these are mine, And let the world have peace or wars, Tis one to me.
Halaman 50 - June night can be, and the loo, the red-hot wind from the westward, was booming among the tinder-dry trees and pretending that the rain was on its heels. Now and again a spot of almost boiling water would fall on the dust with the flop of a frog, but all our weary world knew that was only pretence. It was a shade cooler in the press-room than the office, so I sat there, while the type ticked and clicked, and the night-jars hooted at the windows, and the all but naked compositors wiped the sweat from...