Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:54

Excerpt #1, from The Idiot, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

…suffered more than any of them, am walking on foot to the house of a woman of rather questionable reputation! A man, look you, who has thirteen bullets on his breast!… You don’t believe it? Well, I can assure you it was entirely on my account that Pirogoff telegraphed to Paris, and left Sebastopol at the greatest risk during the siege. Nelaton, the Tuileries surgeon, demanded a safe conduct, in the name of science, into the besieged city in order to attend my wounds. The government knows all about it. ‘That’s the Ivolgin with thirteen bullets in him!’ That’s how they speak of me…. Do you see that house, prince? One of my old friends lives on the first floor, with his large family. In this and five other houses, three overlooking Nevsky, two in the Morskaya, are all that remain of my personal friends. Nina Alexandrovna gave them up long ago, but I keep in touch with them still… I may say I find refreshment in this little coterie, in thus meeting my old acquaintances and subordinates, who worship me still, in spite of all. General Sokolovitch (by the way, I have not called on him lately, or seen Anna Fedorovna)… You know, my dear prince, when a person does not receive company himself, he gives up going to other people’s houses involuntarily. And yet… well… you look as if you didn’t believe me…. Well now, why should I not present the son of my old friend and companion to this delightful family—General Ivolgin and…

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Excerpt #2, from Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds, by Roy Rockwood

…rarefied,” Dave explained to Hiram. “It may work in quite well when we get up above ten thousand feet.” “Oh, Dave, you can’t hope to do that!” exclaimed his young assistant. The manager and a helper visited the five machines while the rules of the contest were being read by his secretary. The barograph of each biplane was examined, sealed up and put in place. Three hours was the time limit allowed, the pilots to select their own course. There was some cloudiness, but no wind, and the five machines made a splendid initial rise. The Whirlwind was all for speed. Dave took it more slowly. Within fifteen minutes the five crafts were scattered to all points of the compass. They became mere specks as a lower strata of cloud haze obscured them. Then they vanished from view as a denser upper cumulus enveloped them. At eleven o’clock one of the contestants came back to the grounds because of a break in the control. A comrade competitor gave up the contest a quarter of an hour later. Number three reported itself out of the race at noon. “It’s the Ariel and the Whirlwind,” went the rounds of the stand. Everybody was wrought up to a great pitch of doubt and suspense. The clouds still obscured all sight of the clear sky. “There’s one of them!” burst out a voice and there was great excitement…

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Excerpt #3, from Mr. Midshipman Easy, by Frederick Marryat

…repeated: “Stop a little.” The men then walked along the rocks until they were abreast of the ship. “Ship ahoy!” “Halloo,” replied Mesty. “Bring the boat ashore directly, with a breaker of water.” “I knew dat,” cried Mesty, rubbing his hands with delight. “Massy Easy, you must tell them No.” “But why should I not give them water, Mesty?” “Because, sar, den they take boat.” “Very true,” replied Easy. “Do you hear on board?” cried the coxswain, who was the man who hailed–“send the boat immediately, or we’ll cut the throats of every mother’s son of you, by God!” “I shall not send the boat,” replied Jack, who now thought Mesty was right. “You won’t–won’t you?–then your doom’s sealed,” replied the man, walking up to the tent with the other. In a short time all the seamen turned out of the tent, bringing with them four muskets, which they had taken on shore with them. “Good heavens! they are not, surely, going to fire at us, Mesty.”…

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Excerpt #4, from Twenty Four Unusual Stories for Boys and Girls, by Anna Cogswell Tyler

…till another tenant comes and tosses ‘em out o’ doors for rubbish. Whew! ’tis coarse weather." He went to the door, opened it, and stood studying the gale that beat upon his cottage-front, straight from the Manacle Reef. The rain drove past him into the kitchen aslant like threads of gold silk in the shine of the wreckwood fire. Meanwhile by the same firelight I examined the relics on my knee. The metal of each was tarnished out of knowledge. But the trumpet was evidently an old cavalry trumpet, and the threads of its parti-colored sling, though frayed and dusty, still hung together. Around the side-drum, beneath its cracked brown varnish, I could hardly trace a royal coat-of-arms and a legend running, Per Mare per Terram–the motto of the Marines. Its parchment, though colored and scented with wood-smoke, was limp and mildewed, and I began to tighten up the straps–under which the drum-sticks had been loosely thrust –with the idle purpose of trying if some music might be got out of the old drum yet. But as I turned it on my knee, I found the drum attached to the trumpet-sling by a curious barrel-shaped padlock, and paused to examine this. The body of the lock was composed of half a dozen brass rings, set accurately edge to edge; and, rubbing the brass with my thumb, I saw that each of the six had a series of letters engraved around it….

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Excerpt #5, from Ten Thousand Dreams Interpreted; Or, What’s in a Dream, by Gustavus Hindman Miller

…will bring pleasant success. If you dream you have the itch yourself, you will be harshly used, and will defend yourself by incriminating others. For a young woman to have this dream, omens she will fall into dissolute companionship. To dream that you itch, denotes unpleasant avocations. Ivory. To dream of ivory, is favorable to the fortune of the dreamer. To see huge pieces of ivory being carried, denotes financial success and pleasures unalloyed. Ivy. To dream of seeing ivy growing on trees or houses, predicts excellent health and increase of fortune. Innumerable joys will succeed this dream. To a young woman, it augurs many prized distinctions. If she sees ivy clinging to the wall in the moonlight, she will have clandestine meetings with young men. Withered ivy, denotes broken engagements and sadness. J. ``Then thou scarest me with dreams, and terrifiest me through visions.’’– Job vii, 14 Jackdaw. To see a jackdaw, denotes ill health and quarrels….

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Excerpt #6, from Mr. Punch’s History of the Great War, by Charles L. Graves

…interesting has been the sudden re-emergence of Mr. John Burns. He sank without a trace two years ago, but has now bobbed up to denounce the proposal to strengthen the Charing Cross railway-bridge. We could have wished that he had been ready to “keep the bridge” in another sense; but at least he has been a silent Pacificist. Mr. Winston Churchill, when his journalistic labours permit, has contributed to the debates, and Lord Haldane has again delivered his famous lecture on the defects of English education. But for Parliamentary sagacity in excelsis commend us to Mr. McCallum Scott. He is seriously perturbed about the shortage of sausage-skins and, in spite of the bland assurance of Mr. Harcourt that supplies are ample, is alleged to be planning a fresh campaign with the assistance of Mr. Hogge. Another shortage has given rise to no anxiety, but rather the reverse. In a police court it was recently stated that there are no longer any tramps in England. Evidently the appeal of that stirring old song, “Tramp! tramp! tramp! the boys are marching,” has not been without its effect. [Illustration: CONJURER (unconscious of the approach of hostile aircraft): “Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, I want you to watch me closely.”] Yet another endurable shortage is reported from the seaside, where an old sailor on the local sea front has been lamenting the spiritual starvation brought about by the war. “Why,” he said, "for the first time for twenty…

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Excerpt #7, from Beowulf: An Anglo

…BARROW.–Mound, rounded hill, funeral-mound. BATTLE-SARK.–Armor. BEAKER.–Cup, drinking-vessel. BEGEAR.–Prepare. BIGHT.–Bay, sea. BILL.–Sword. BOSS.–Ornamental projection. BRACTEATE.–A round ornament on a necklace. BRAND.–Sword. BURN.–Stream. BURNIE.–Armor. CARLE.–Man, hero. EARL.–Nobleman, any brave man. EKE.–Also. EMPRISE.–Enterprise, undertaking. ERST.–Formerly. ERST-WORTHY.–Worthy for a long time past. FAIN.–Glad. FERRY.–Bear, carry. FEY.–Fated, doomed. FLOAT.–Vessel, ship….

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Excerpt #8, from Hard Times, by Charles Dickens

…and back were as much too broad, as his legs were too short. He was dressed in a Newmarket coat and tight-fitting trousers; wore a shawl round his neck; smelt of lamp-oil, straw, orange-peel, horses’ provender, and sawdust; and looked a most remarkable sort of Centaur, compounded of the stable and the play-house. Where the one began, and the other ended, nobody could have told with any precision. This gentleman was mentioned in the bills of the day as Mr. E. W. B. Childers, so justly celebrated for his daring vaulting act as the Wild Huntsman of the North American Prairies; in which popular performance, a diminutive boy with an old face, who now accompanied him, assisted as his infant son: being carried upside down over his father’s shoulder, by one foot, and held by the crown of his head, heels upwards, in the palm of his father’s hand, according to the violent paternal manner in which wild huntsmen may be observed to fondle their offspring. Made up with curls, wreaths, wings, white bismuth, and carmine, this hopeful young person soared into so pleasing a Cupid as to constitute the chief delight of the maternal part of the spectators; but in private, where his characteristics were a precocious cutaway coat and an extremely gruff voice, he became of the Turf, turfy. ‘By your leaves, gentlemen,’ said Mr. E. W. B. Childers, glancing round the room. ‘It was you, I believe, that were wishing to see Jupe!’…

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Excerpt #9, from Myths of the Norsemen: From the Eddas and Sagas, by H. A. Guerber

…Lay of Grimnir (Thorpe’s tr.). Isolated from her beloved companions, Idun pined, grew pale and sad, but persistently refused to give Thiassi the smallest bite of her magic fruit, which, as he well knew, would make him beautiful and renew his strength and youth. “All woes that fall On Odin’s hall Can be traced to Loki base. From out Valhalla’s portal ’Twas he who pure Iduna lured,– Whose casket fair Held apples rare That render gods immortal,– And in Thiassi’s tower immured.” Valhalla (J. C. Jones). Time passed. The gods, thinking that Idun had accompanied her husband and would soon return, at first paid no heed to her departure, but little by little the beneficent effect of the last feast of apples passed away. They began to feel the approach of old age, and saw their youth and beauty disappear; so, becoming alarmed, they began to search for the missing goddess….

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Excerpt #10, from Wild Animals I Have Known, by Ernest Thompson Seton

…Running rills cure many ills. Never take the open if you can keep the cover. Never leave a straight trail if a crooked one will do. If it’s strange, it’s hostile. Dust and water burn the scent. Never hunt mice in a rabbit-woods, or rabbits in a henyard. Keep off the grass. Inklings of the meanings of these were already entering the little ones’ minds–thus, ‘Never follow what you can’t smell,’ was wise, they could see, because if you can’t smell it, then the wind is so that it must smell you. One by one they learned the birds and beasts of their home woods, and then as they were able to go abroad with their parents they learned new animals. They were beginning to think they knew the scent of everything that moved. But one night the mother took them to a field where there was a strange black flat thing on the ground. She brought them on purpose to smell it, but at the first whiff their every hair stood on end, they trembled, they knew not why–it seemed to tingle through their blood and fill them with instinctive hate and fear. And when she saw its full effect she told them– “That is man-scent.”…

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Excerpt #11, from Round the Red Lamp: Being Facts and Fancies of Medical Life, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…who handed him a stoppered glass bottle and a cloth bag which contained something which clinked when you moved it. Johnson thrust the bottle into his pocket, seized the green bag, and pressing his hat firmly down ran as hard as he could set foot to ground until he was in the City Road and saw the name of Pritchard engraved in white upon a red ground. He bounded in triumph up the three steps which led to the door, and as he did so there was a crash behind him. His precious bottle was in fragments upon the pavement. For a moment he felt as if it were his wife’s body that was lying there. But the run had freshened his wits and he saw that the mischief might be repaired. He pulled vigorously at the night-bell. “Well, what’s the matter?” asked a gruff voice at his elbow. He started back and looked up at the windows, but there was no sign of life. He was approaching the bell again with the intention of pulling it, when a perfect roar burst from the wall. “I can’t stand shivering here all night,” cried the voice. “Say who you are and what you want or I shut the tube.” Then for the first time Johnson saw that the end of a speaking-tube hung out of the wall just above the bell. He shouted up it,– “I want you to come with me to meet Dr. Miles at a confinement at once.” “How far?” shrieked the irascible voice….

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Excerpt #12, from Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog), by Jerome K. Jerome

…unusual course to stop all business on that account. He had to go to business: why should other people stop in bed merely because it was dark and foggy! At length he reached Holborn. Not a shutter was down! not a bus was about! There were three men in sight, one of whom was a policeman; a market-cart full of cabbages, and a dilapidated looking cab. George pulled out his watch and looked at it: it was five minutes to nine! He stood still and counted his pulse. He stooped down and felt his legs. Then, with his watch still in his hand, he went up to the policeman, and asked him if he knew what the time was. [Picture: George and the policeman] “What’s the time?” said the man, eyeing George up and down with evident suspicion; “why, if you listen you will hear it strike.” George listened, and a neighbouring clock immediately obliged. “But it’s only gone three!” said George in an injured tone, when it had finished. “Well, and how many did you want it to go?” replied the constable. “Why, nine,” said George, showing his watch. “Do you know where you live?” said the guardian of public order, severely. George thought, and gave the address….

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