References in classic literature ?
My father was called away before he had finished his sentence, and he left my mind resting on the word PRAGUE, with a strange sense that a new and wondrous scene was breaking upon me: a city under the broad sunshine, that seemed to me as if it were the summer sunshine of a long-past century arrested in its course--unrefreshed for ages by dews of night, or the rushing rain-cloud; scorching the dusty, weary, time-eaten grandeur of a people doomed to live on in the stale repetition of memories, like deposed and superannuated kings in their regal gold-inwoven tatters.
The vision had begun when my father was speaking of our going to Prague.
While this superadded consciousness of the actual was almost constant with me, I had never had a recurrence of that distinct prevision which I have described in relation to my first interview with Bertha; and I was waiting with eager curiosity to know whether or not my vision of Prague would prove to have been an instance of the same kind.
One thing alone I looked towards as a possible means of casting doubt on my terrible conviction--the discovery that my vision of Prague had been false--and Prague was the next city on our route.
I thought I should gain confidence even for this, if my vision of Prague proved to have been veracious; and yet, the horror of that certitude
Our arrival in Prague happened at night, and I was glad of this, for it seemed like a deferring of a terribly decisive moment, to be in the city for hours without seeing it.
I recognized the face of my friend Gordon Doyle, whom I had met in Liverpool on the day of my embarkation, when he was himself about to sail on the steamer City of Prague, on which he had urged me to accompany him.
The steamer City of Prague, bound from Liverpool to New York, three weeks out with a broken shaft.
This was Miss Maria's return for George's rudeness about the Battle of Prague.
Then, without any more preliminaries, she turned on all the horrors of the "Battle of Prague," that venerable shivaree, and waded chin-deep in the blood of the slain.
Once when I was abroad I went into Bohemia, and from Prague I sent Antonia some photographs of her native village.
I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you.