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The FS Daily

Daily Excerpts: My humble attempt at offering fresh, daily, bookstore-style browsing…

Below you’ll find twelve book excerpts selected at random, each day, from over 400 different hand-selected Project Gutenberg titles. This includes many of my personal favorites.

Excerpts for Monday, February 16, 2026

Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:52

Excerpt #1, from The Prose Tales of Alexander Pushkin, by Aleksandr Sergeevich Pushkin

…silent; Hermann fell upon his knees. “If your heart has ever known the feeling of love,” said he, “if you remember its rapture, if you have ever smiled at the cry of your new-born child, if any human feeling has ever entered into your breast, I entreat you by the feelings of a wife, a lover, a mother, by all that is most sacred in life, not to reject my prayer. Reveal to me your secret. Of what use is it to you?… May be it is connected with some terrible sin, with the loss of eternal salvation, with some bargain with the devil…. Reflect,–you are old; you have not long to live–I am ready to take your sins upon my soul. Only reveal to me your secret. Remember that the happiness of a man is in your hands, that not only I, but my children, and grandchildren will bless your memory and reverence you as a saint….” The old Countess answered not a word. Hermann rose to his feet. “You old hag!” he exclaimed, grinding his teeth, “then I will make you answer!” With these words he drew a pistol from his pocket. At the sight of the pistol, the Countess for the second time exhibited strong emotion. She shook her head and raised her hands as if to protect herself from the shot … then she fell backwards and remained…

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Excerpt #2, from Famous Adventures and Prison Escapes of the Civil War, by Basil Wilson Duke et al.

…20, on the first range, was occupied by Colonel R.C. Morgan, a brother of General Morgan. That cell had been prepared for General Morgan by opening a hole to the chamber, and when the hour for locking up came, General Morgan stepped into Cell 21, and Colonel Morgan into General Morgan’s cell in the second range. The guard did not discover the exchange, as General Morgan and Colonel Morgan were of about the same physical proportions, and each stood with his back to the cell door when it was being locked. At intervals of two hours every night, beginning at eight, the guards came around to each cell and passed a light through the grating to see that all was well with the prisoners. The approach of the guard was often so stealthily made that a knowledge of his presence was first had by seeing him at the door of the cell. To avoid a surprise of this kind we sprinkled fine coal along in front of the cells, walking upon which would give us warning. By a singular coincidence that might have been a fatality, on the day we had determined upon for the escape General Morgan received a letter from Lexington, Kentucky, begging and warning him not to attempt to escape, and by the same mail I received a letter from a member of my family saying that it was rumored and generally believed at home that I had escaped. Fortunately these letters did not put the officials on their guard. We ascertained from the paper we had…

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Excerpt #3, from French Idioms and Proverbs, by de V. Payen

…business best. Mien J’y ai mis du mien, mettez-y du vôtre = I have given way a bit, meet me half-way; I have done my share at it, now it’s your turn. Mieux *Le mieux est l’ennemi du bien = Leave well alone. Ils criaient à qui mieux mieux = Each was trying to shout louder than the other; Each tried to drown the others’ voices. Je ne demande pas mieux = Nothing would give me greater pleasure. Elle est mieux que sa sœur = She is prettier than her sister. Faute de mieux = For want of something better. Tant mieux = So much the better. Il est au mieux avec son médecin = He is on the best terms with his doctor. On ne peut mieux = As well as possible; It could not be better. Vous arrivez on ne peut mieux = You could not have come at a more opportune moment. Milieu Le juste milieu = The golden mean. Au beau milieu = In the very midst….

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Excerpt #4, from Latin for Beginners, by Benjamin L. D’Ooge

…(b) «Perseus terram trīstitiā līberat» Perseus frees the land from sorrow (figurative separation–no actual motion is expressed) «181.» RULE. «Ablative of the Personal Agent.» The word expressing the person from whom an action starts, when not the subject, is put in the ablative with the preposition «ā» or «ab.» a. In this construction the English translation of «ā», «ab» is by rather than from. This ablative is regularly used with passive verbs to indicate the person by whom the act was performed. «Mōnstrum ā Perseō necātur», the monster is being slain by (lit. from) Perseus b. Note that the active form of the above sentence would be «Perseus monstrum necat», Perseus is slaying the monster. In the passive the object of the active verb becomes the subject, and the subject of the active verb becomes the ablative of the personal agent, with «ā» or «ab». c. Distinguish carefully between the ablative of means and the ablative of the personal agent. Both are often translated into English by the preposition by. (Cf. §100. b.) Means is a «thing»; the agent or actor is a «person». The ablative of means…

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Excerpt #5, from Two Years Before the Mast, by Richard Henry Dana

…Islander, called Mahannah, who “sang out” for them. Sailors, when heaving at a windlass, in order that they may heave together, always have one to sing out; which is done in a peculiar, high and long-drawn note, varying with the motion of the windlass. This requires a high voice, strong lungs, and much practice, to be done well. This fellow had a very peculiar, wild sort of note, breaking occasionally into a falsetto. The sailors thought it was too high, and not enough of the boatswain hoarseness about it; but to me it had a great charm. The harbor was perfectly still, and his voice rang among the hills, as though it could have been heard for miles. Toward sundown, a good breeze having sprung up, she got under weigh, and with her long, sharp head cutting elegantly through the water, on a taut bowline, she stood directly out of the harbor, and bore away to the southward. She was bound to Callao, and thence to the Sandwich Islands, and expected to be on the coast again in eight or ten months. At the close of the week we were ready to sail, but were delayed a day or two by the running away of F—-, the man who had been our second mate, and was turned forward. From the time that he was “broken,” he had had a dog’s berth on board the vessel, and determined to run away at the first opportunity. Having shipped for an officer when he was not half a seaman, he found little pity with the crew, and was not man…

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Excerpt #6, from Norman Ten Hundred, by A. Stanley Blicq

…of a bat sped through the dark pall. Only man: savage, primitive man, glared at where each remained hidden. The blood lust to kill, always to kill. Animal ferocity and passion: man’s inheritance. From No Man’s Land came the sobbing call of wounded for succour. Far, far across the void sounded those despairing frenzied shrieks. Hoarse, appealing, incessant, until they weakened and nothing reached the ear but the smothered sobs of men whose life’s sands were running out for want of that aid, so near, but which they were unable to reach. Verey lights from Fritz’s lines rose and fell with monotonous certainty, throwing faint glows on the huddled heaps lying in all directions between the two fronts. A gleam would catch reflection in the glassy eyes of a stiff form, fade and leave you staring hypnotised into the night. Was it distorted fancy … then you would see it again, and again, until in its very frequency you noticed–nothing. Shelling slackened. Now and again a pause when the stillness could be “heard.” From the woods in intermittent intervals the one solitary gun still intact in an entire battery belched forth a lone shell into the enemy lines. In the fantastic flash of each explosion three shirt-sleeved forms showed a ruddy silhouette of blackened hands and features. A tearing, splintering crash awoke echoes as some great bough was shattered in impact with a “heavy” and crackled its cumbersome way…

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Excerpt #7, from The Man with Two Left Feet, and Other Stories, by P. G. Wodehouse

…‘But why?’ She burst out a-crying again, like a kid. ‘Didn’t you read about it in the paper, Uncle Bill?’ ‘Read about what in the paper?’ ‘My accident. I broke my ankle at rehearsal ever so long ago, practising my new dance. The doctors say it will never be right again. I shall never be able to dance any more. I shall always limp. I shan’t even be able to walk properly. And when I thought of that … and Andy … and everything … I….’ I got on to my feet. ‘Well, well, well,’ I says. ‘Well, well, well! I don’t know as I blame you. But don’t you do it. It’s a mug’s game. Look here, if I leave you alone for half an hour, you won’t go trying it on again? Promise.’ ‘Very well, Uncle Bill. Where are you going?’ ‘Oh, just out. I’ll be back soon. You sit there and rest yourself.’ It didn’t take me ten minutes to get to the restaurant in a cab. I found Andy in the back room. ‘What’s the matter, Henry?’ he says. ‘Take a look at this,’ I says. There’s always this risk, mister, in being the Andy type of feller what must have his own way and goes straight ahead and has it; and that is…

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Excerpt #8, from A Princess of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

…even Woola’s life to threaten the success of my venture, much less his momentary happiness, for I doubted not he soon would forget me. And so I bade the poor beast an affectionate farewell, promising him, however, that if I came through my adventure in safety that in some way I should find the means to search him out. He seemed to understand me fully, and when I pointed back in the direction of Thark he turned sorrowfully away, nor could I bear to watch him go; but resolutely set my face toward Zodanga and with a touch of heartsickness approached her frowning walls. The letter I bore from them gained me immediate entrance to the vast, walled city. It was still very early in the morning and the streets were practically deserted. The residences, raised high upon their metal columns, resembled huge rookeries, while the uprights themselves presented the appearance of steel tree trunks. The shops as a rule were not raised from the ground nor were their doors bolted or barred, since thievery is practically unknown upon Barsoom. Assassination is the ever-present fear of all Barsoomians, and for this reason alone their homes are raised high above the ground at night, or in times of danger. The Ptor brothers had given me explicit directions for reaching the point of the city where I could find living accommodations and be near the offices of the government agents to whom they had given me letters….

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Excerpt #9, from Short Stories for High Schools, by Rosa Mary Redding Mikels

…Joe—everybody, I thing—mais, hof course, not if they not have been christen’. Even I thing some niggers will go.” “Jools,” said the parson, stopping in his walk—“Jools, I don’t want to lose my niggah.” “You will not loose him. With Baptiste he cannot ged loose.” But Colossus’s master was not reassured. “Now,” said he, still tarrying, “this is jest the way; had I of gone to church——” “Posson Jone’,” said Jules. “What?” “I tell you. We goin’ to church!” “Will you?” asked Jones, joyously. “Allons, come along,” said Jules, taking his elbow. They walked down the Rue Chartres, passed several corners, and by and by turned into a cross street. The parson stopped an instant as they were turning and looked back up the street. “W’at you lookin’?” asked his companion. “I thought I saw Colossus,” answered the parson, with an anxious face; “I reckon ’twa’n’t him, though.” And they went on. The street they now entered was a very quiet one. The eye of any chance passer would have been at once drawn to a broad, heavy, white brick…

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Excerpt #10, from Cliff Castles and Cave Dwellings of Europe, by S. Baring

…ambition and avarice, vanity and luxury; and, as a background to all these seething heaps of decay, misrule and misery, hung the black cloud of the barbarians, waxing stronger and stronger so that the wisest Romans saw clearly as the years rolled on, they would soon be the conquerors of the Caesars and the masters of the Western world. “No wonder, if in such a state of things, the minds of men were stirred by a passion akin to despair, which ended in a new and grand form of suicide. It would have ended often, but for Christianity, in such an actual despair as that which had led in past ages more than one noble Roman to slay himself, when he lost all hope for the Republic. That the world–such at least as they saw it then–was doomed, Scripture and their own reason taught them. They did not merely believe, but saw, in the misery and confusion, the desolation and degradation around them, that the world was passing away, and the lust thereof, and that only he who did the will of God could abide for ever. They did not merely believe, but saw that the wrath of God was revealed from Heaven against all unrighteousness of men. Under these terrible forebodings, men began to flee from a doomed world, and try to be alone with God, if by any means they might save each man his own soul in that dread day.” [Footnote: Kingsley (C.), “The Hermits,” Lond. 1868.] In the year 336 Athanasius was in exile at Trèves. He is traditionally…

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Excerpt #11, from The Principles of Biology, Volume 2 (of 2), by Herbert Spencer

…through it (Grasses) or make its exit sideways (Palms), or be formed at the side (Alisma); and Dicotyledons very similarly. “The occurrence of completely sheathing leaves in grasses is perhaps correlated with the absence of cambium, but grasses are an aberrant type among monocotyledons, and secondary thickening is only found in very few genera of this class, so that the correlation is, so to speak, negative and indirect…. It is clear that the greater part of the discussion will have to be re-written.” For the reasons assigned in the preface I cannot undertake to re-write the discussion, as suggested. It must stand for what it is worth. All I can do is here to include along with it the foregoing criticisms. I may, however, indicate the line of defence I should take were I to go again into the matter. The objections are based on the structure of existing Liverworts and Phænogams. But I have already referred to the probability–or, indeed, the certainty–that in conformity with the general principle set forth in the note to Chapter I, we must conclude that the early types of Liverworts out of which the Phænogams are supposed to have evolved, as well as the early types of Phænogams in which the stages of evolution were presented, no longer exist. We must infer that forms simpler than any now known, and more intermediate in their traits, were the forms concerned; and if so, it may be held that…

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Excerpt #12, from Argonaut stories, by Jerome Hart

…of the flesh. On approaching the house, I saw Robert standing in the doorway. My first glimpse of him set me to trembling with fear of evil tidings, he looked so agitated and distressed. When he perceived me, he wrung his hands and burst into tears. “Oh, Tom!” he cried, “Helen is dying. She was taken with convulsions early this morning. She does not know me. The baby was born dead, and Helen can not live. I must lose her! Oh, God, I must lose her!” He ran through the hall and up the stairs, like a wild man. I followed, but the heaviness of the shock was so great that it was but slowly and with a feeling as if the floor was rising up to my face. Asenath was moving stealthily about the hall. I bade her begone. She looked at me like a startled cat, but did not go. A black girl, coming down the stairs, passed me, and I recognized her as the first of the women who had joined our ghastly crowd the night before. She gazed straight before her, with wide-open, horrified eyes, and her face had the same pinched look the hall mirror had shown me upon my own as I glanced into it involuntarily when passing it. At the top of the stairs, Belinda, Helen’s poor little maid, flung herself at my feet and clasped my knees. “Oh, Massa Tom,” she cried, “she am ’witched. Go an’ git d’ witch…

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