Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:40

Excerpt #1, from Sailing Alone Around the World, by Joshua Slocum

…the sea, as he turned to clear my vessel, brought me on deck in time to catch a wetting from the water he threw up with his flukes. The monster was apparently frightened. He headed quickly for the east; I kept on going west. Soon another whale passed, evidently a companion, following in its wake. I saw no more on this part of the voyage, nor did I wish to. [Illustration: Meeting with the whale] Hungry sharks came about the vessel often when she neared islands or coral reefs. I own to a satisfaction in shooting them as one would a tiger. Sharks, after all, are the tigers of the sea. Nothing is more dreadful to the mind of a sailor, I think, than a possible encounter with a hungry shark. A number of birds were always about; occasionally one poised on the mast to look the Spray over, wondering, perhaps, at her odd wings, for she now wore her Fuego mainsail, which, like Joseph’s coat, was made of many pieces. Ships are less common on the Southern seas than formerly. I saw not one in the many days crossing the Pacific. My diet on these long passages usually consisted of potatoes and salt cod and biscuits, which I made two or three times a week. I had always plenty of coffee, tea, sugar, and flour. I carried usually a good supply of potatoes, but before reaching Samoa I had a mishap which…

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Excerpt #2, from Famous Modern Ghost Stories, by Dorothy Scarborough et al.

…d’Aumont told me, as we sat under the arbor of the White Horse, one fine summer evening, drinking a bottle of old wine to the health of the dead man, now very much at his ease, whom that very morning he had borne to the grave with full honors, beneath a pall powdered with smart silver tears. “My poor father who is dead” (it is the sacristan who is speaking,) "was in his lifetime a grave-digger. He was of an agreeable disposition, the result, no doubt, of the calling he followed, for it has often been pointed out that people who work in cemeteries are of a jovial turn. Death has no terrors for them; they never give it a thought. I, for instance, monsieur, enter a cemetery at night as little perturbed as though it were the arbor of the White Horse. And if by chance I meet with a ghost, I don’t disturb myself in the least about it, for I reflect that he may just as likely have business of his own to attend to as I. I know the habits of the dead, and I know their character. Indeed, so far as that goes, I know things of which the priests themselves are ignorant. If I were to tell you all I have seen, you would be astounded. But a still tongue makes a wise head, and my father, who, all the same, delighted in spinning a yarn, did not disclose a twentieth part of what he knew. To make up for this he often repeated the same stories, and to my knowledge he told the story of Catherine…

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Excerpt #3, from The Terror: A Mystery, by Arthur Machen

…together to make a whole. Merritt, as the doctor guessed, had a kind of uneasy feeling–it scarcely amounted to a suspicion–as to the business of the marsh; chiefly because he thought the official talk about the railway embankment and the course of the river rank nonsense. But finding that nothing more happened, he let the matter drop from his mind, and settled himself down to enjoy his holiday. He found to his delight that there were no sentries or watchers to hinder him from the approach to Larnac Bay, a delicious cove, a place where the ashgrove and the green meadow and the glistening bracken sloped gently down to red rocks and firm yellow sands. Merritt remembered a rock that formed a comfortable seat, and here he established himself of a golden afternoon, and gazed at the blue of the sea and the crimson bastions and bays of the coast as it bent inward to Sarnau and swept out again southward to the odd-shaped promontory called the Dragon’s Head. Merritt gazed on, amused by the antics of the porpoises who were tumbling and splashing and gamboling a little way out at sea, charmed by the pure and radiant air that was so different from the oily smoke that often stood for heaven at Midlingham, and charmed, too, by the white farmhouses dotted here and there on the heights of the curving coast….

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Excerpt #4, from Across Asia on a Bicycle, by Thomas Gaskell Allen and William Lewis Sachtleben

…by three distinct river-systems emanating from Ararat’s immediate vicinity. No other region has seen or heard so much of the story of mankind. In its grim presence empires have come and gone; cities have risen and fallen; human life has soared up on the wings of hope, and dashed against the rocks of despair. To the eye Ararat presents a gently inclined slope of sand and ashes rising into a belt of green, another zone of black volcanic rocks streaked with snow-beds, and then a glittering crest of silver. From the burning desert at its base to the icy pinnacle above, it rises through a vertical distance of 13,000 feet. There are but few peaks in the world that rise so high (17,250 feet above sea-level) from so low a plain (2000 feet on the Russian, and 4000 feet on the Turkish, side), and which, therefore, present so grand a spectacle. Unlike many of the world’s mountains, it stands alone. Little Ararat (12,840 feet above sea-level), and the other still smaller heights that dot the plain, only serve as a standard by which to measure Ararat’s immensity and grandeur. Little Ararat is the meeting-point, or corner-stone, of three great empires. On its conical peak converge the dominions of the Czar, the Sultan, and the Shah. The Russian border-line runs from Little Ararat along the high ridge which separates it from Great Ararat, through the peak of the latter, and onward a short distance to the northwest, then…

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Excerpt #5, from Old Greek Stories, by James Baldwin

…the crater of a burning mountain, to take a lump of clay which he gave him, and mold it into the form of a woman. Vulcan did as he was bidden; and when he had finished the image, he carried it up to Jupiter, who was sitting among the clouds with all the Mighty Folk around him. It was nothing but a mere lifeless body, but the great blacksmith had given it a form more perfect than that of any statue that has ever been made. “Come now!” said Jupiter, “let us all give some goodly gift to this woman;” and he began by giving her life. Then the others came in their turn, each with a gift for the marvelous creature. One gave her beauty; and another a pleasant voice; and another good manners; and another a kind heart; and another skill in many arts; and, lastly, some one gave her curiosity. Then they called her Pandora, which means the all-gifted, because she had received gifts from them all. Pandora was so beautiful and so wondrously gifted that no one could help loving her. When the Mighty Folk had admired her for a time, they gave her to Mercury, the light-footed; and he led her down the mountain side to the place where Prometheus and his brother were living and toiling for the good of mankind. He met Epimetheus first, and said to him: “Epimetheus, here is a beautiful woman, whom Jupiter has sent to you to be your wife.”…

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Excerpt #6, from Boswell’s Life of Johnson, by James Boswell

…romance, ‘Madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.’ We talked of a lady’s verses on Ireland. MISS REYNOLDS. ‘Have you seen them, Sir?’ JOHNSON. ‘No, Madam. I have seen a translation from Horace, by one of her daughters. She shewed it me.’ MISS REYNOLDS. ‘And how was it, Sir?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, very well for a young Miss’s verses;–that is to say, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the person who wrote them. I am vexed at being shewn verses in that manner.’ MISS REYNOLDS. ‘But if they should be good, why not give them hearty praise?’ JOHNSON. ‘Why, Madam, because I have not then got the better of my bad humour from having been shown them. You must consider, Madam; beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. Nobody has a right to put another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not true.’ BOSWELL. ‘A man often shews his writings to people of eminence, to obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may afterwards avail himself.’ JOHNSON. ’Very true, Sir. Therefore the man, who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, is put to the torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; so that what he says is not considered as his opinion; yet he has said it, and cannot retract it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a cannister…

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Excerpt #7, from Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll

…“Ye-es, pretty well—some poetry,” Alice said doubtfully. “Would you tell me which road leads out of the wood?” “What shall I repeat to her?” said Tweedledee, looking round at Tweedledum with great solemn eyes, and not noticing Alice’s question. “‘The Walrus and the Carpenter’ is the longest,” Tweedledum replied, giving his brother an affectionate hug. Tweedledee began instantly: “The sun was shining—” Here Alice ventured to interrupt him. “If it’s very long,” she said, as politely as she could, “would you please tell me first which road—” Tweedledee smiled gently, and began again: “The sun was shining on the sea, Shining with all his might: He did his very best to make The billows smooth and bright— And this was odd, because it was The middle of the night. The moon was shining sulkily, Because she thought the sun Had got no business to be there After the day was done—…

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Excerpt #8, from Home Life in Colonial Days, by Alice Morse Earle

…The regulation of fish-weirs soon became an important matter in all towns where streams let alewives up from the sea. The New England ministers took a hand in promoting and encouraging the fisheries, as they did all positive social movements and commercial benefits. Rev. Hugh Peter in Salem gave the fisheries a specially good turn. Fishermen were excused from military training, and portions of the common stock of corn were assigned to them. The General Court of Massachusetts exempted “vessels and stock” from “country charges” (which were taxes) for seven years. Seashore towns assigned free lands to each boat to be used for stays and flakes for drying. As early as 1640 three hundred thousand dried codfish were sent to market from New England. Codfish consisted of three sorts, “marchantable, middling, and refuse.” The first grade was sold chiefly to Roman Catholic Europe, to supply the constant demands of the fast-days of that religion, and also those of the Church of England; the second was consumed at home or in the merchant vessels of New England; the third went to the negroes of the West Indies, and was often called Jamaica fish. The dun-fish or dumb-fish, as the word was sometimes written, were the best; so called from the dun-color. Fish was always eaten in New England for a Saturday dinner; and Mr. Palfrey, the historian, says that until this century no New England dinner on Saturday, even a formal dinner party, was complete…

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Excerpt #9, from The Coral Island, by R. M. Ballantyne

…generally found that strange and unaccountable things have almost always been accounted for, and found to be quite simple, on close examination. I certainly can’t imagine what that sound is; but I’m quite sure I shall find out before long, and if it’s a ghost I’ll–I’ll–" “Eat it!” cried Peterkin. “Yes, I’ll eat it!–Now, then, my bow and two arrows are finished; so, if you’re ready, we had better turn in.” By this time Peterkin had thinned down his spear, and tied an iron point very cleverly to the end of it; I had formed a sling, the lines of which were composed of thin strips of the cocoa-nut cloth, plaited; and Jack had made a stout bow, nearly five feet long, with two arrows, feathered with two or three large plumes which some bird had dropped. They had no barbs; but Jack said that if arrows were well feathered they did not require iron points, but would fly quite well if merely sharpened at the point, which I did not know before. “A feathered arrow without a barb,” said he, “is a good weapon, but a barbed arrow without feathers is utterly useless.” The string of the bow was formed of our piece of whip-cord, part of which, as he did not like to cut it, was rolled round the bow. Although thus prepared for a start on the morrow we thought it wise to exercise ourselves a little in the use of our weapons before starting,…

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Excerpt #10, from An Introduction to the History of Science, by Walter Libby

…subjective impression, but must devise apparatus to record by a measurable movement the amount of the pressure or the degree of temperature. “God ordered all things by measure, number, and weight.” The scientific mind does not rest satisfied till it is able to see phenomena in their number relationships. Scientific thought is in this sense Pythagorean, that it inquires in reference to quantity and proportion. As implied in a previous chapter, number relations are not clearly grasped by primitive races. Many primitive languages have no words for numerals higher than five. That fact does not imply that these races do not know the difference between large and small numbers, but precision grows with civilization, with commercial pursuits, and other activities, such as the practice of medicine, to which the use of weights and measures is essential. Scientific accuracy is dependent on words and other means of numerical expression. From the use of fingers and toes, a rude score or tally, knots on a string, or a simple abacus, the race advances to greater refinement of numerical expression and the employment of more and more accurate apparatus. One of the greatest contributors to this advance was the celebrated Danish astronomer, Tycho Brahe (1546-1601). Before 1597 he had completed his great mural quadrant at the observatory of Uraniborg. He called it…

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Excerpt #11, from My Adventures During the Late War, by Donat Henchy O’Brien

…a league, until, upon turning suddenly an angle on the road, I discovered that I was close to the gate that led to the town. I likewise saw the town itself, at a considerable distance, on an island, and found that this was the gate of the bridge which connected that island with the mainland. The soldiers were close in the rear; I therefore did not think it prudent to turn back; and I flattered myself that there was no necessity, as I perceived that my road led to the left, after passing the gate on my right hand. I thought that our course might be in opposite directions. In this hope I proceeded–passed the gate and sentinel–not a question was asked me, or a look bestowed upon me–my heart rebounded with joy–I was safe–my sufferings were rewarded, and a glorious triumph filled my imagination, even to ecstasy. Lameness was forgotton; and I was, if I may use the term, tripping along full of visions of the little I should have to undergo, of the little time that would elapse, ere I should be again upon England’s element, under her glorious flag, and in the exercise of all my duties of a naval officer. Alas! how frail are all human hopes! In this state of mind I was suddenly stopped by an elderly man, who, it appeared, had followed me from the gate. He very civilly asked in German if I had a passport. As a ruse de guerre, I replied in French, “That I did not understand his…

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Excerpt #12, from The Invasion of 1910, with a full account of the siege of London, by Le Queux

…Pier–gazed at them in utter bewilderment. “At the first moment of alarm the East Yorkshire Volunteers hurried on their uniforms and assembled at their regimental headquarters for orders. There were, of course, no regular troops in the town, but the Volunteers soon obtained their arms and ammunition, and after being formed, marched down Heddon road to the Alexandra Dock. “On every side was the greatest commotion, already bordering upon panic. Along Spring Bank, the Hessle road, the Anlaby road, and all the thoroughfares converging into Queen Victoria Square, came crowds of all classes eager to see for themselves and learn the truth of the startling rumour. The whole riverside was soon black with the excited populace, but to the astonishment of everyone the motley craft sailed on, taking no notice of us and becoming fewer and fewer, until ships appeared through the grey bank of fog only at intervals. “One thing was entirely clear. The enemy, whoever they might be, had destroyed all our means of appealing for help, for we could not telephone to the military at York, Pontefract, Richmond, or even to the regimental district headquarters at Beverley. They had gone on to Goole, but would they turn back and attack us? “The cry was that if they meant to seize Goole they would also seize Hull! Then the terrified crowd commenced to collect timber and iron from…

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