Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:29

Excerpt #1, from Just So Stories, by Rudyard Kipling

…‘It’s very like the carp-fish-mouth noise. Let’s draw another bit of the carp-fish and join ‘em,’ said her Daddy. He was quite incited too. ‘No. If they’re joined, I’ll forget. Draw it separate. Draw his tail. If he’s standing on his head the tail will come first. ‘Sides, I think I can draw tails easiest,’ said Taffy. ‘A good notion,’ said Tegumai. ‘Here’s a carp-fish tail for the yer-noise.’ And he drew this. (4.) ‘I’ll try now,’ said Taffy. ‘’Member I can’t draw like you, Daddy. Will it do if I just draw the split part of the tail, and the sticky-down line for where it joins?’ And she drew this. (5.) Her Daddy nodded, and his eyes were shiny bright with ‘citement. ‘That’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘Now make another noise, Daddy.’ ‘Oh!’ said her Daddy, very loud. ‘That’s quite easy,’ said Taffy. ‘You make your mouth all around like an egg or a stone. So an egg or a stone will do for that.’ ‘You can’t always find eggs or stones. We’ll have to scratch a round something like one.’ And he drew this. (6.) ‘My gracious!’ said Taffy, ‘what a lot of noise-pictures we’ve made,–carp-mouth, carp-tail, and egg! Now, make another noise, Daddy.’ ‘Ssh!’ said her Daddy, and frowned to himself, but Taffy was too incited to notice….

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Excerpt #2, from The power and the glory, by Henry Kuttner

…crushing weight of that suddenly ponderable air. Even above his own deafness and the shriek of the unnatural wind in the room he heard the scream of riven marble. And the weight upon him lessened a little. He could see again. He could see the great block of stone uprooted with jagged edges from the broken floor at the foot of Brann’s dais. It seemed to tear itself free, to leap into the air of its own volition—to hurtle toward Brann’s curtains as if Brann’s castle itself had suddenly turned upon him with great jagged stone fangs. In his brain Miller could feel the tremendous, concentrated effort of Llesi’s teleportation, balancing the marble weapon and guiding it on its course. The weight upon him ceased abruptly. The release was so sudden that the congested blood drained from Miller’s brain and for an instant the great room swam before him. In that moment of faltering the hurtling marble fragment faltered too and Llesi and Miller together struggled with the faintness of Miller’s overtaxed brain. * * * * * Brann seized the opening that brief hesitation gave him. He could not stop the flying weapon but he could block it. . . . A broken segment of the marble steps flew up in the path of the oncoming boulder, grated against it, deflected its course….

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Excerpt #3, from Kidnapped, by Robert Louis Stevenson

…and had scarce a wave upon it; so that I must put the water to my lips before I could believe it to be truly salt. The mountains on either side were high, rough and barren, very black and gloomy in the shadow of the clouds, but all silver-laced with little watercourses where the sun shone upon them. It seemed a hard country, this of Appin, for people to care as much about as Alan did. There was but one thing to mention. A little after we had started, the sun shone upon a little moving clump of scarlet close in along the water-side to the north. It was much of the same red as soldiers’ coats; every now and then, too, there came little sparks and lightnings, as though the sun had struck upon bright steel. I asked my boatman what it should be, and he answered he supposed it was some of the red soldiers coming from Fort William into Appin, against the poor tenantry of the country. Well, it was a sad sight to me; and whether it was because of my thoughts of Alan, or from something prophetic in my bosom, although this was but the second time I had seen King George’s troops, I had no good will to them. At last we came so near the point of land at the entering in of Loch Leven that I begged to be set on shore. My boatman (who was an honest fellow and mindful of his promise to the catechist) would fain have carried me on to Balachulish; but as this was to take me farther from my…

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Excerpt #4, from The Pirates’ Who’s Who, by Philip Gosse

…deserted. In an account of his execution on board H.M.S. Weymouth we read: “Being on board a Man of War there was no Body to press him to an Acknowledgement of the Crime he died for, nor of sorrowing in particular for it, which would have been exemplary, and made suitable Impressions on seamen; so that his last Hour was spent in lamenting and bewailing his Sins in general, exhorting the Spectators to an honest and good life, in which alone they could find Satisfaction.” This painful scene ended by the condemned singing with the spectators a few verses of the 140th Psalm: at the conclusion of which, at the firing of a gun, “he was tric’d up at the Fore Yard.” Died at the age of 34. ARNOLD, SION. A Madagascar pirate, who was brought to New England by Captain Shelley in 1699. ASHPLANT, VALENTINE. Born in the Minories, London. He served with Captain Howell Davis, and later with Bartholomew Roberts. He was one of the leading lights of Roberts’s crew, a member of the “House of Lords.” He took part in the capture and plundering of the King Solomon at Cape Apollonia, North-West Coast of Africa, in January, 1719, when the pirates,…

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Excerpt #5, from Little Women, by Louisa May Alcott

…days, and for rainy ones, they had house diversions, some old, some new, all more or less original. One of these was the ‘P.C.’, for as secret societies were the fashion, it was thought proper to have one, and as all of the girls admired Dickens, they called themselves the Pickwick Club. With a few interruptions, they had kept this up for a year, and met every Saturday evening in the big garret, on which occasions the ceremonies were as follows: Three chairs were arranged in a row before a table on which was a lamp, also four white badges, with a big ‘P.C.’ in different colors on each, and the weekly newspaper called, The Pickwick Portfolio, to which all contributed something, while Jo, who reveled in pens and ink, was the editor. At seven o’clock, the four members ascended to the clubroom, tied their badges round their heads, and took their seats with great solemnity. Meg, as the eldest, was Samuel Pickwick, Jo, being of a literary turn, Augustus Snodgrass, Beth, because she was round and rosy, Tracy Tupman, and Amy, who was always trying to do what she couldn’t, was Nathaniel Winkle. Pickwick, the president, read the paper, which was filled with original tales, poetry, local news, funny advertisements, and hints, in which they good-naturedly reminded each other of their faults and short comings. On one occasion, Mr. Pickwick put on a pair of spectacles without any glass, rapped upon the table, hemmed, and having stared…

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Excerpt #6, from The School for Scandal, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

…Passion.– MARIA. Why will you distress me by renewing this subject– SURFACE. Ah! Maria! you would not treat me thus and oppose your guardian’s Sir Peter’s wishes–but that I see that my Profligate Brother is still a favour’d Rival. MARIA. Ungenerously urged–but whatever my sentiments of that unfortunate young man are, be assured I shall not feel more bound to give him up because his Distresses have sunk him so low as to deprive him of the regard even of a Brother. SURFACE. Nay but Maria do not leave me with a Frown–by all that’s honest, I swear—-Gad’s Life here’s Lady Teazle–you must not–no you shall–for tho’ I have the greatest Regard for Lady Teazle—- MARIA. Lady Teazle! SURFACE. Yet were Sir Peter to suspect—- [Enter LADY TEAZLE, and comes forward] LADY TEAZLE. What’s this, Pray–do you take her for me!–Child you are wanted in the next Room.–What’s all this, pray– SURFACE. O the most unlucky circumstance in Nature. Maria has somehow suspected the tender concern I have for your happiness, and threaten’d to acquaint Sir Peter with her suspicions–and I was just endeavouring to reason with her when you came….

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Excerpt #7, from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, by L. Frank Baum

…“Come along, Toto,” she said, “we will go to the Emerald City and ask the great Oz how to get back to Kansas again.” She closed the door, locked it, and put the key carefully in the pocket of her dress. And so, with Toto trotting along soberly behind her, she started on her journey. There were several roads near by, but it did not take her long to find the one paved with yellow brick. Within a short time she was walking briskly toward the Emerald City, her silver shoes tinkling merrily on the hard, yellow roadbed. The sun shone bright and the birds sang sweet and Dorothy did not feel nearly as bad as you might think a little girl would who had been suddenly whisked away from her own country and set down in the midst of a strange land. [Illustration] She was surprised, as she walked along, to see how pretty the country was about her. There were neat fences at the sides of the road, painted a dainty blue color, and beyond them were fields of grain and vegetables in abundance. Evidently the Munchkins were good farmers and able to raise large crops. Once in a while she would pass a house, and the people came out to look at her and bow low as she went by; for everyone knew she had been the means of destroying the wicked witch and setting them free from bondage. The houses of the…

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Excerpt #8, from Poems, by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, by Emily Dickinson

…And bowed and sang again. Doubtless, he thought it meet of him To say good-by to men. X. I died for beauty, but was scarce Adjusted in the tomb, When one who died for truth was lain In an adjoining room. He questioned softly why I failed? “For beauty,” I replied. “And I for truth, – the two are one; We brethren are,” he said. And so, as kinsmen met a night, We talked between the rooms, Until the moss had reached our lips, And covered up our names. XI. “TROUBLED ABOUT MANY THINGS.” How many times these low feet staggered, Only the soldered mouth can tell; Try! can you stir the awful rivet?…

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Excerpt #9, from Tales from a Rolltop Desk, by Christopher Morley

…“Five cents each, but we mend them, too, and sew on the buttons.” “That’s a good idea,” said Dulcet, genially. “I wish I’d known that before; I’d have brought my collars round to you. How long have you been doing that? I often go by here, but I never saw the sign before.” “Only about a week,” the man replied. “Let’s see–a week ago last Monday I put that sign up. You wouldn’t believe how much new trade it has brought in. I thought it would be a kind of a joke–the man next door suggested it, and I put it in to please him. But ’most everybody wears soft collars nowadays, and it seems good business.” “The man next door?” said Dulcet, in a casual tone. “Sure, the cigar store.” “Is his name Stork?” said Dulcet, reflectively. “Stork? Why, no, Basswood. What do you mean, Stork?” “I mean,” said Dulcet, slowly, “does he ever stand on one leg?” “Quit your kidding,” cried the laundryman, annoyed. “I assure you, I do not trifle,” said Dulcet, gravely. “I’ll bring you in some collars to fix up for me. Much obliged.” We went out again, and my companion stood for a moment in front of the laundry window, looking thoughtfully at the sign. “While you ponder, old son,” I said, “I’ll run into Mr. Stork-Basswood’s and get some tobacco.”…

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Excerpt #10, from Short Story Classics (American) Vol. 2, by William Patten

…Providence, or things being ordered; but I’m darned if I don’t believe in them from this day. I was bound to stay where you put me, but I was uneasy, and wild to be in the scrimmage; and, if I had been there, I wouldn’t have taken notice of a little red light that wasn’t much behind the rear platform when we stopped. When I saw there was no danger there I ran back, and what do you think I found? There was a woman in a dead faint, and just clutching a lantern that she had tied up in a red scarf, poor little thing! And, Major, it was Sally! It was the little girl that loved me out at Barker’s, and has loved me and waited for me ever since! And when she came to, and knew me, she was so glad she ’most fainted away again; and she let on as it was her that gave away the job. And I took her into the sleeper, and the madam, God bless her!–she knew Sally before and was good to her–she took care of her and is cheering her up. And now, Major, I’m going to take her straight to Denver, and send for a parson and get her married to me, and she’ll brace up, sure pop." The whistle sounded, and the train started. From the window of the “sleeper” Sinclair and his wife took their last look at the weird scene. The lieutenant, standing at the side of the track, wrapped in his cloak, caught a glimpse of Mrs. Sinclair’s pretty face, and returned her bow. Then, as the car passed out of sight, he tugged at…

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Excerpt #11, from Darkwater: Voices from Within the Veil, by W. E. B. Du Bois

…“staunch and loyal friend.” And perhaps I cannot better end these hesitating words than with that tribute from one who called this master, friend, and whose lament cried in the night with more of depth and passion than Alfred Noyes is wont in his self-repression to voice: “Through him, his race, a moment, lifted up Forests of hands to beauty, as in prayer, Touched through his lips the sacramental cup And then sank back, benumbed in our bleak air.” Yet, consider: to many millions of people this man was all wrong. First, he ought never to have been born, for he was the mulatto son of a white woman. Secondly, he should never have been educated as a musician,–he should have been trained, for his “place” in the world and to make him satisfied therewith. Thirdly, he should not have married the woman he loved and who loved him, for she was white and the niece of an Oxford professor. Fourthly, the children of such a union–but why proceed? You know it all by heart. If he had been black, like Paul Laurence Dunbar, would the argument have been different? No. He should never have been born, for he is a “problem.” He should never be educated, for he cannot be educated. He should never marry, for that means children and there is no place for black children in this world….

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Excerpt #12, 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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