Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:23

Excerpt #1, 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 #2, from Mr. Standfast, by John Buchan

…“It’s time ye was home, Miss Mary. It chappit half-eleven as I came up the stairs. It’s comin’ on to rain, so I’ve brought an umbrelly.” “One word,” I said. “How old is the man?” “Just gone thirty-six,” Blenkiron replied. I turned to Mary, who nodded. “Younger than you, Dick,” she said wickedly as she got into her big Jaeger coat. “I’m going to see you home,” I said. “Not allowed. You’ve had quite enough of my society for one day. Andrew’s on escort duty tonight.” Blenkiron looked after her as the door closed. “I reckon you’ve got the best girl in the world.” “Ivery thinks the same,” I said grimly, for my detestation of the man who had made love to Mary fairly choked me. “You can see why. Here’s this degenerate coming out of his rotten class, all pampered and petted and satiated with the easy pleasures of life. He has seen nothing of women except the bad kind and the overfed specimens of his own country. I hate being impolite about females, but I’ve always considered the German variety uncommon like cows. He has had desperate years of intrigue and danger, and consorting with every kind of scallawag. Remember, he’s a big man and a poet, with a brain and an imagination that takes every grade without changing gears….

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Excerpt #3, from David Copperfield, by Charles Dickens

…taken up. The result is destruction. The bolt is impending, and the tree must fall. ‘Let the wretched man who now addresses you, my dear Copperfield, be a beacon to you through life. He writes with that intention, and in that hope. If he could think himself of so much use, one gleam of day might, by possibility, penetrate into the cheerless dungeon of his remaining existence–though his longevity is, at present (to say the least of it), extremely problematical. ‘This is the last communication, my dear Copperfield, you will ever receive ‘From ‘The ‘Beggared Outcast, ‘WILKINS MICAWBER.’ I was so shocked by the contents of this heart-rending letter, that I ran off directly towards the little hotel with the intention of taking it on my way to Doctor Strong’s, and trying to soothe Mr. Micawber with a word of comfort. But, half-way there, I met the London coach with Mr. and Mrs. Micawber up behind; Mr. Micawber, the very picture of tranquil enjoyment, smiling at Mrs. Micawber’s conversation, eating walnuts out of a paper bag, with a bottle sticking out of his breast pocket. As they…

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Excerpt #4, from Middlemarch, by George Eliot

…vaults where he walked taper in hand. He did not confess to himself, still less could he have breathed to another, his surprise that though he had won a lovely and noble-hearted girl he had not won delight,—which he had also regarded as an object to be found by search. It is true that he knew all the classical passages implying the contrary; but knowing classical passages, we find, is a mode of motion, which explains why they leave so little extra force for their personal application. Poor Mr. Casaubon had imagined that his long studious bachelorhood had stored up for him a compound interest of enjoyment, and that large drafts on his affections would not fail to be honored; for we all of us, grave or light, get our thoughts entangled in metaphors, and act fatally on the strength of them. And now he was in danger of being saddened by the very conviction that his circumstances were unusually happy: there was nothing external by which he could account for a certain blankness of sensibility which came over him just when his expectant gladness should have been most lively, just when he exchanged the accustomed dulness of his Lowick library for his visits to the Grange. Here was a weary experience in which he was as utterly condemned to loneliness as in the despair which sometimes threatened him while toiling in the morass of authorship without seeming nearer to…

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Excerpt #5, from A Tall Ship, by Bartimeus

…* * * * * Jeremiah Casey, Petty Officer and Captain’s Coxswain, hauled himself nimbly up the Jacob’s ladder to the quarter-boom and came inboard. The Captain was walking up and down, deep in thought, with his hands linked behind his back. Casey pattered up and saluted. “I’ve bent on that noo mainsail, sir. . . . There’s a nice li’l sailin’ breeze, sir.” Casey, hinting at a spin in the galley, somehow reminded one of a spaniel when he sees the gun-case opened. Had he been blessed with a tail, he would most certainly have wagged it. The Captain walked slowly aft and looked down into the galley lying at the quarter-boom. Few men could have resisted the appeal of that long slim boat with the water lapping invitingly against her clinker-built sides. The brasswork in her gleamed in the sun like jewels set in ivory, for the woodwork was as near the whiteness of ivory as holystone and sharkskin could make it. She had little white mats with blue borders on the thwarts and in the sternsheets, and her yoke, of curious Chinese design, had a history as mysterious and legendary as the diamonds of Marie Antoinette. “Get her alongside,” said the Captain. “I want to try that mainsail.” Five minutes later the galley was spinning across the sparkling waters of the harbour….

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Excerpt #6, from Curiosities of Human Nature, by Samuel G. Goodrich

…currency with credit, he adopted the notion that paper money, equal to the whole property of the nation, might safely be issued. Upon this egregious error, his project was founded, and was, of course, rejected by his wary and sagacious countrymen. Law now visited the principal cities of Europe; his address gaining him admittance to the highest circles in all countries. He finally settled in Paris, and was there during the regency of the Duke of Orleans, as guardian of Louis XV. The government of France was then on the verge of bankruptcy, in consequence of the enormous expenditures of Louis XIV. Law now brought forward his schemes for a free supply of money, and they were seized upon with avidity. He established a bank, for which, a royal charter was granted in 1718. It was first composed of twelve hundred shares, of three thousand livres each, but the number was afterwards increased and the price reduced. This bank became the office at which all public moneys were received. A Mississippi company was also attached to it, which had grants of land in Louisiana, and which was expected to realize immense sums by planting and commerce. One privilege after another was granted, until the prospects of advantage appeared to be so great that crowds came forward to make investments in the stock of what was called the Mississippi Company….

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Excerpt #7, from Why Men Fight: A method of abolishing the international duel, by Bertrand Russell

…the daily round an amazing richness of material, an escape from the triviality and wearisomeness of familiar routine, by which the whole of life is filled with interest, and the prison walls of the commonplace are broken down. The same love of adventure which takes men to the South Pole, the same passion for a conclusive trial of strength which leads some men to welcome war, can find in creative thought an outlet which is neither wasteful nor cruel, but increases the dignity of man by incarnating in life some of that shining splendor which the human spirit is bringing down out of the unknown. To give this joy, in a greater or less measure, to all who are capable of it, is the supreme end for which the education of the mind is to be valued. It will be said that the joy of mental adventure must be rare, that there are few who can appreciate it, and that ordinary education can take no account of so aristocratic a good. I do not believe this. The joy of mental adventure is far commoner in the young than in grown men and women. Among children it is very common, and grows naturally out of the period of make-believe and fancy. It is rare in later life because everything is done to kill it during education. Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth—more than ruin, more even than death. Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible; thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions,…

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Excerpt #8, from Legends of the Gods, by Sir E. A. Wallis Budge

…there is no evidence that he had the slightest knowledge of the details of the original African Legend of these gods as it was known to the Egyptians, say, under the VIth Dynasty. Moreover, he never realized that the characteristics and attributes of both Isis and Osiris changed several times during the long history of Egypt, and that a thousand years before he lived the Egyptians themselves had forgotten what the original form of the legend was. They preserved a number of ceremonies, and performed very carefully all the details of an ancient ritual at the annual commemoration festival of Osiris which was held in November and December, but the evidence of the texts makes it quite clear that the meaning and symbolism of nearly all the details were unknown alike to priests and people. An important modification of the cult of Isis and Osiris took place in the third century before Christ, when the Ptolemies began to consolidate their rule in Egypt. A form of religion which would be acceptable both to Egyptians and Greeks had to be provided, and this was produced by modifying the characteristics of Osiris and calling him Sarapis, and identifying him with the Greek Pluto. To Isis were added many of the attributes of the great Greek goddesses, and into her worship were introduced “mysteries” derived from non-Egyptian cults, which made it acceptable to the people everywhere. Had a high priest…

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Excerpt #9, from Contemporary One

…[The FORMER POOR MAN grunts in irritation and turns his back on her. VAIN WOMAN. I cannot hear a word that is said to me. No one seems to want me around, and I am not invited out any more. I have the feeling that people are making fun of me instead of praising my beauty. Oh, it is dreadful to be deaf. [Getting hysterical.] I want the Judge to take away this deafness. I would rather have my wrinkles. [IMP shakes his head in pretended sympathy, saying: “Too bad, too bad.” [She misunderstands and cries out. VAIN WOMAN. Has the Judge given away my wrinkles? I want them back. I want my very own wrinkles, too. Wrinkles are distinguished-looking. [Beginning to sob.] I don’t want to be deaf any longer. IMP. [Running over to the FORMER POOR MAN.] Say, this lady feels very bad. Can’t you cheer her up a little? FORMER POOR MAN. [Who is still rocking back and forth with his own misery, looks up at IMP in disgust.] Cheer–her–up! Me? What’s the joke? [The VAIN WOMAN walks to the curtained door, looks in as if seeking something, then returns to a chair, where she sits, weeping softly….

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Excerpt #10, from Radioisotopes and Life Processes (Revised), by Baserga and Kisieleski

…labeling it with a radioactive precursor, because the amount of m-RNA in a cell is very small. [Illustration: Figure 20 Diagram of ascending paper chromatography.] Quantitative Analysis Another important feature of RNA (or DNA, for that matter) is its base composition, that is, the percentage of each of the nucleotides that make it up. The four bases that, with ribose and phosphoric acid, comprise the RNA molecule are guanine, adenine, cytosine, and uracil. It will be noted that three of the four—guanine, adenine, and cytosine—are the same as those in DNA, but thymidine in DNA has been replaced by another base, uracil. To determine the percentage of each base in a given RNA molecule, we must digest RNA with alkali to produce mononucleotides, which are smaller molecules, each consisting of a base, ribose, and phosphoric acid. We can now separate the four nucleotides by using paper chromatography (see Figure 20). [Illustration: Figure 21 A paper chromatography showing separation of amino acids in two directions. Radioactivity in samples then produced this record by radioautography.] In this technique a mixture of compounds is deposited on the edge of a special type of paper. This edge is then immersed in a solvent that slowly permeates the paper (at a constant speed) by capillary action. As…

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Excerpt #11, from The King in Yellow, by Robert W. Chambers

…Sylvia, little Sylvia, who shared with him his student life,–who bore with him the dreary desolation of the siege without complaint,–this slender blue-eyed girl whom he was so quietly fond of, whom he teased or caressed as the whim suited, who sometimes made him the least bit impatient with her passionate devotion to him,–could this be the same Sylvia who lay weeping there in the darkness? Then he clinched his teeth. “Let him die! Let him die!”–but then,–for Sylvia’s sake, and,–for that other’s sake,–Yes, he would go,–he must go,–his duty was plain before him. But Sylvia,–he could not be what he had been to her, and yet a vague terror seized him, now all was said. Trembling, he struck a light. She lay there, her curly hair tumbled about her face, her small white hands pressed to her breast. He could not leave her, and he could not stay. He never knew before that he loved her. She had been a mere comrade, this girl wife of his. Ah! he loved her now with all his heart and soul, and he knew it, only when it was too late. Too late? Why? Then he thought of that other one, binding her, linking her forever to the creature, who stood in danger of his life. With an oath he sprang to the door, but the door would not open,–or was it that he pressed it back,–locked it,–and flung himself on his knees beside the bed, knowing that he dared not for his life’s sake leave what…

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Excerpt #12, from Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log

…adobe houses we saw before us. Our cargo out, we took in a sufficient quantity of sand ballast, and in June sailed for Manila. Within a week after getting off the coast of California, we struck the southeast trades, and had a most delightful run across the Pacific Ocean, the wind scarcely varying a couple of points for six weeks, when we sighted Guam, one of the Ladrone Islands. As scurvy had made its appearance among our crew, Captain Arthur decided to anchor and lay in a supply of fruit and vegetables. The natives soon came off to us with quantities of limes, yams, and cocoanuts, which they gladly exchanged for any articles of hardware we could spare. The following day we got under weigh and stood to the westward for the Straits of St. Bernardino. At midnight breakers were seen close on the weather bow. We wore ship instantly to the eastward and hauled close on the wind for an hour and a quarter, the wind not permitting us to lay better than east half south. At 1.45 A. M. we tacked to the southward, and hoped to weather this reef, which we had not found set down on our chart; but at 3.15 breakers were again seen on the weather bow too near to allow us to tack. We accordingly wore, and when before the wind the ship struck under the forefoot and remained stationary. The wind was S. S. E., and fortunately the water was as smooth as a…

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