Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:23

Excerpt #1, from Stage Coach and Tavern Days, by Alice Morse Earle

…because any such description of mine would be simply a transcription of their facts, but because there is a sense of closeness of touch, a pleasant intimacy, and indeed a profound sympathy thereby established with those old travellers and modes of travel which cannot be obtained by modern wording; nor indeed can their descriptions and travellers’ tales be improved. Careless or ignorant writers often portray early stage-coach travel in America in the same terms as would be used of similar travel in England, and as having the same accessories; it was in truth very different in nearly all of its conditions, as different as were the vehicles used in America. I do not believe that travellers in coaching days found much pleasure in long journeys by stage-coach. They doubtless enjoyed short trips, or possibly a day on a coach, as we do now, but serious travel was serious indeed. In winter it must have appeared a slow form of lingering death. Grant Thorburn, the New York seedsman, tells of the first journey he ever made by land. It was in the winter of 1831; he was then fifty-eight years old. "We left Hoboken with about fifteen passengers closely packed in a stage with wheels, and a very neat coach, and so foolish was I and ignorant (never having travelled on land) I thought this same fine close carriage would go through thick and thin with me all the way to…

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Excerpt #2, from Tales of an Old Sea Port, by Wilfred Harold Munro

…ship; that he had formerly received the Sacrament, &c. And, as in all his conversation, he constantly mingled invectives against the English nation, they made him leave me, forbidding him to speak with me for the future, under penalty of chastisement. He received this with a very bad grace; swearing, blustering, and protesting that he would speak with me in spite of them. However, he went away; and scarcely had he gone when another came, as drunk as the first, and, like him, too, an Irishman. He was the surgeon, who at first addressed me with some Latin words,–Pater, misereor. I attempted to reply to him in Latin; but I soon found that these words constituted the whole of his knowledge of the language; and, as he was no better acquainted with French, we could hold no conversation together. In the mean while it grew late, and I felt sleepiness pressing on me, having scarcely closed my eyes during the preceding nights. I did not know where to go to obtain a little repose. The ship was so careened over that it was necessary to be continually fastened to prevent one’s self rolling. I wanted to lie down in one of the three berths; but I did not dare, for fear some one would immediately force me to leave it. The captain saw my embarrassment, and, touched with the miserable figure we made, sitting on the chests,–the storekeeper…

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Excerpt #3, from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum

…castle of the Wicked Witch and the Emerald City. When the four travelers went in search of the Witch she had seen them coming, and so sent the Winged Monkeys to bring them to her. It was much harder to find their way back through the big fields of buttercups and yellow daisies than it was being carried. They knew, of course, they must go straight east, toward the rising sun; and they started off in the right way. But at noon, when the sun was over their heads, they did not know which was east and which was west, and that was the reason they were lost in the great fields. They kept on walking, however, and at night the moon came out and shone brightly. So they lay down among the sweet smelling yellow flowers and slept soundly until morning—all but the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman. The next morning the sun was behind a cloud, but they started on, as if they were quite sure which way they were going. “If we walk far enough,” said Dorothy, “I am sure we shall sometime come to some place.” But day by day passed away, and they still saw nothing before them but the scarlet fields. The Scarecrow began to grumble a bit. “We have surely lost our way,” he said, “and unless we find it again in time to reach the Emerald City, I shall never get my brains.” “Nor I my heart,” declared the Tin Woodman. “It seems to me I can…

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Excerpt #4, from Norman Ten Hundred, by A. Stanley Blicq

…and the dreaded “trench feet” fastens its fierce grip upon the victim, there lies before him many weeks of agony in hospital, haunted daily by a chance of losing one or both feet. All this without the glad consolation of a WOUND! Washed in warm water, the feet are greased and powdered and new socks placed carefully over before setting out on the trudge Linewards. Trench equipment is issued, two days’ rations served out, and a start is made in the night. Stumpy lost his “grub” by misadventure, but found somebody else’s, withstood a fierce argument for ten minutes and finally pacified his opponent by “finding” still another issue. Hoarse orders sent men probing about for their rifles and assortment of equipment. The Ten Hundred filed out. XII PASSCHENDAELE SECTOR Eyes gazing eastward at the rising and falling Verey Lights in Jerry’s lines, the Ten Hundred trudged wearily along a sodden plank “road” winding into a stretch of muddy track strewn on all sides with the gruesome conglomeration of war’s jetsam. The way had to be carefully chosen past shell-holes full of water, with here and there a slowly twirling body, a white face shining hideously in…

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Excerpt #5, from The Time Machine, by H. G. Wells

…there in the laboratory we beheld a larger edition of the little mechanism which we had seen vanish from before our eyes. Parts were of nickel, parts of ivory, parts had certainly been filed or sawn out of rock crystal. The thing was generally complete, but the twisted crystalline bars lay unfinished upon the bench beside some sheets of drawings, and I took one up for a better look at it. Quartz it seemed to be. “Look here,” said the Medical Man, “are you perfectly serious? Or is this a trick—like that ghost you showed us last Christmas?” “Upon that machine,” said the Time Traveller, holding the lamp aloft, “I intend to explore time. Is that plain? I was never more serious in my life.” None of us quite knew how to take it. I caught Filby’s eye over the shoulder of the Medical Man, and he winked at me solemnly. III. The Time Traveller Returns I think that at that time none of us quite believed in the Time Machine. The fact is, the Time Traveller was one of those men who are too clever to be believed: you never felt that you saw all round him; you always suspected some subtle reserve, some ingenuity in ambush,…

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Excerpt #6, from Planet of the Damned, by Harry Harrison

…“He is here so we can listen to what he says, Gebk. He is the one I told you of, that I found in the desert.” “We listen to what he says and then we kill him,” Gebk said with a mirthless grin. The remark wasn’t meant to be humorous, but was made in all seriousness. Brion recognized this and knew that there was no danger for the present moment. He slid the gun away, and for the first time looked around the chamber. It was domed in shape and was still hot from the heat of the day. Ulv took off the length of cloth he had wrapped around his body against the chill, and refolded it as a kilt, strapping it on under his belt artifacts. He grunted something unintelligible and when a muttered answer came, Brion for the first time became aware of the woman and the child. The two sat against the far wall, squatting on either side of a heap of fibrous plants. Both were nude, clothed only in the matted hair that fell below their shoulders. The belt of strange tools could not be classified as clothing. Even the child wore a tiny replica of her mother’s. Putting down a length of plant she had been chewing, the woman shuffled over to the tiny fire that illuminated the room. A clay pot stood over it, and from this she ladled three bowls of food for the men. It smelled atrocious, and Brion tried not to taste or…

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Excerpt #7, from The Bacchae of Euripides, by Euripides

…Touched a great pine-tree’s high and heavenward crown, And lower, lower, lower, urged it down To the herbless floor. Round like a bending bow, Or slow wheel’s rim a joiner forces to, So in those hands that tough and mountain stem Bowed slow–oh, strength not mortal dwelt in them!– To the very earth. And there he set the King, And slowly, lest it cast him in its spring, Let back the young and straining tree, till high It towered again amid the towering sky; And Pentheus in the branches! Well, I ween, He saw the Maenads then, and well was seen! For scarce was he aloft, when suddenly There was no Stranger any more with me, But out of Heaven a Voice–oh, what voice else?– ’Twas He that called! “Behold, O damosels, I bring ye him who turneth to despite Both me and ye, and darkeneth my great Light. ’Tis yours to avenge!” So spake he, and there came ’Twixt earth and sky a pillar of high flame. And silence took the air, and no leaf stirred…

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Excerpt #8, from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen

…ultimately have prevented the marriage, had it not been seconded by the assurance that I hesitated not in giving, of your sister’s indifference. He had before believed her to return his affection with sincere, if not with equal regard. But Bingley has great natural modesty, with a stronger dependence on my judgement than on his own. To convince him, therefore, that he had deceived himself, was no very difficult point. To persuade him against returning into Hertfordshire, when that conviction had been given, was scarcely the work of a moment. I cannot blame myself for having done thus much. There is but one part of my conduct in the whole affair on which I do not reflect with satisfaction; it is that I condescended to adopt the measures of art so far as to conceal from him your sister’s being in town. I knew it myself, as it was known to Miss Bingley; but her brother is even yet ignorant of it. That they might have met without ill consequence is perhaps probable; but his regard did not appear to me enough extinguished for him to see her without some danger. Perhaps this concealment, this disguise was beneath me; it is done, however, and it was done for the best. On this subject I have nothing more to say, no other apology to offer. If I have wounded your sister’s feelings, it was unknowingly done and though the motives…

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Excerpt #9, from James Nasmyth, Engineer: An Autobiography, by James Nasmyth

…I adopted the same practice in working the refined and complex machines used in printing coloured patterns on calico. A great variety of colours has to be transferred by a combination of rollers–each carrying its proper colour; these are printed on the calico with the utmost exactness, and result in the complete pattern. My system of having a separate engine to give motion to these colour-printing machines was found to be of great service, and its value was recognised by its speedy and almost universal adoption. Every connection with the main shaft, with its gearing and belts and pulleys–by which colour-printing had before been accomplished–was entirely done away with, because each machine had its own special engine. The former practice had led to much waste, and the printing was often confused and badly done. The power was conveyed from a great central steam-engine; the printing machines were ranged by the side of a long gallery, and by means of a “clutch” each machine was started at once into action. The result of this was a considerable shock to the machine, and an interference with the relative adjustments of the six or eight colour rollers, which were often jerked out of their exact relative adjustment. Then the machines had to be stopped and the rollers readjusted, and sometimes many yards of calico had been spoiled before this could be done….

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Excerpt #10, from The Shanty Book, Part I, Sailor Shanties, by Richard Runciman Terry

…mourn him. 11. THE HOG’S-EYE MAN Of the numberless versions of this shanty I have chosen that of Capt. Robertson as being the most representative. Of the infinite number of verses to this fine tune hardly one is printable. There has been much speculation as to the origin of the title. As a boy my curiosity was piqued by reticence, evasion, or declarations of ignorance, whenever I asked the meaning of the term. It was only in later life that I learnt it from Mr. Morley Roberts. His explanation made it clear why every sailor called it either ‘hog-eye’ or ‘hog’s-eye,’ and why only landsmen editors ever get the word wrong. One collector labels the shanty ‘The hog-eyed man,’ and another goes still further wide of the mark by calling it ‘The ox-eyed man.’ The remarks on this shanty in the Preface will show the absurdity of both titles. That is all the explanation I am at liberty to give in print. Whall gives the shanty on page 118, his version differing but slightly from Capt. Robertson’s. 12. THE WILD GOOSE SHANTY This I learnt from Capt. John Runciman. Allusions to ‘The Wild Goose Nation’ occur in many shanties, but I never obtained any clue to the meaning (if any) of the term. The verse about ‘huckleberry hunting’…

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Excerpt #11, from Under the White Ensign: A Naval Story of the Great War, by Percy F. Westerman

…landing expedition had been properly ambushed. Treachery had been at work. The Greek who, fortunately, was still detained on board the Portchester Castle had deliberately misled the British. Instead of the operations being directed against a secret petrol depot, the boats found themselves up against a powerful and well-organized system of shore batteries and a strong force of troops to oppose their landing. Clearly Osborne knew his duty. At all costs the steamboat must dash in and rescue her consorts or perish in the attempt. Suddenly one of the seaward-directed searchlights swung rapidly past the steam cutter and, hesitating, played fairly upon the hull of a large torpedo-boat that was making at full speed in the direction of Akhissareli. For a brief instant Osborne hesitated. He knew that British destroyers were in the vicinity, and possibly this was one tearing to the assistance of the Portchester Castle’s boats. He dare not make a private signal lest the shore batteries should spot the steamboat’s presence. On the other hand, there were two factors that tended to upset the friendly destroyer theory. The Turks ashore had made no attempt to fire upon the approaching craft; her outlines, as shown up by the search-lights, were unfamiliar. As she drew nearer, Osborne…

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Excerpt #12, from An Outcast of the Islands, by Joseph Conrad

…save him from the feeble hand of the blind old man, from that hand that even now was, with cautious sweeps along the ground, feeling for his body in the darkness. It was the unreasoning fear of this glimpse into the unknown things, into those motives, impulses, desires he had ignored, but that had lived in the breasts of despised men, close by his side, and were revealed to him for a second, to be hidden again behind the black mists of doubt and deception. It was not death that frightened him: it was the horror of bewildered life where he could understand nothing and nobody round him; where he could guide, control, comprehend nothing and no one–not even himself. He felt a touch on his side. That contact, lighter than the caress of a mother’s hand on the cheek of a sleeping child, had for him the force of a crushing blow. Omar had crept close, and now, kneeling above him, held the kriss in one hand while the other skimmed over his jacket up towards his breast in gentle touches; but the blind face, still turned to the heat of the fire, was set and immovable in its aspect of stony indifference to things it could not hope to see. With an effort Willems took his eyes off the deathlike mask and turned them up to Aissa’s head. She sat motionless as if she had been part of the sleeping earth, then suddenly he saw her big sombre eyes open out wide in a piercing stare and felt the convulsive pressure of her hands pinning his arms along…

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