Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

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Excerpt #1, from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, by Washington Irving

…would have thought St. Vitus himself, that blessed patron of the dance, was figuring before you in person. He was the admiration of all the negroes; who, having gathered, of all ages and sizes, from the farm and the neighborhood, stood forming a pyramid of shining black faces at every door and window, gazing with delight at the scene, rolling their white eyeballs, and showing grinning rows of ivory from ear to ear. How could the flogger of urchins be otherwise than animated and joyous? The lady of his heart was his partner in the dance, and smiling graciously in reply to all his amorous oglings; while Brom Bones, sorely smitten with love and jealousy, sat brooding by himself in one corner. When the dance was at an end, Ichabod was attracted to a knot of the sager folks, who, with Old Van Tassel, sat smoking at one end of the piazza, gossiping over former times, and drawing out long stories about the war. This neighborhood, at the time of which I am speaking, was one of those highly favored places which abound with chronicle and great men. The British and American line had run near it during the war; it had, therefore, been the scene of marauding and infested with refugees, cowboys, and all kinds of border chivalry. Just sufficient time had elapsed to enable each storyteller to dress up his tale with a little becoming fiction, and, in the indistinctness of his recollection, to…

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Excerpt #2, from Diary of Anna Green Winslow, a Boston School Girl of 1771, by Anna Green Winslow

…(or rather she with me) upon a perticular matter, which you shall know in its place. How strangely industrious I have been this week, I will inform you with my own hand–at present, I am so dilligent, that I am oblig’d to use the hand & pen of my old friend, who being near by is better than a brother far off. I dont forgit dear little John Henry so pray mamma, dont mistake me. Dec^r 28th.–Last evening a little after 5 o’clock I finished my shift. I spent the evening at Mr. Soley’s. I began my shift at 12 o’clock last monday, have read my bible every day this week & wrote every day save one. Dec^r 30th.–I return’d to my sewing school after a weeks absence, I have also paid my compliments to Master Holbrook.[23] Yesterday between meetings my aunt was call’d to Mrs. Water’s[13] & about 8 in the evening Dr. Lloyd[24] brought little master to town (N.B. As a memorandum for myself. My aunt stuck a white sattan pincushin[25] for Mrs Waters.[13] On one side, is a planthorn with flowers, on the reverse, just under the border are, on one side stuck these words, Josiah Waters, then follows on the end, Dec^r 1771, on the next side & end are the words, Welcome little Stranger.) Unkle has just come in & bro’t one from me. I mean, unkle is just come in with a letter from Papa in his hand (& none for me) by way of Newbury. I am glad to hear that…

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Excerpt #3, from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain

…actions, and if we ever got the least show we would give them the cold shake and clear out and leave them behind. Well, early one morning we hid the raft in a good, safe place about two mile below a little bit of a shabby village named Pikesville, and the king he went ashore and told us all to stay hid whilst he went up to town and smelt around to see if anybody had got any wind of the Royal Nonesuch there yet. (“House to rob, you mean,” says I to myself; “and when you get through robbing it you’ll come back here and wonder what has become of me and Jim and the raft–and you’ll have to take it out in wondering.”) And he said if he warn’t back by midday the duke and me would know it was all right, and we was to come along. So we stayed where we was. The duke he fretted and sweated around, and was in a mighty sour way. He scolded us for everything, and we couldn’t seem to do nothing right; he found fault with every little thing. Something was a-brewing, sure. I was good and glad when midday come and no king; we could have a change, anyway–and maybe a chance for the change on top of it. So me and the duke went up to the village, and hunted around there for the king, and by and by we found him in the back room of a little low doggery, very tight, and a lot of loafers bullyragging him for sport, and he a-cussing and a-threatening with all his might, and so tight he couldn’t walk, and couldn’t do nothing to…

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Excerpt #4, from Derelicts: An Account of Ships Lost at Sea in General Commercial Traffic, by Sprunt

…Colonel Scharf, writing of the Confederate States Navy, mentions the shore lights: “At the beginning of the war,” he says, “nearly all the lights along the Southern coast had been discontinued, the apparatus being removed to places of safety. In 1864 it was deemed expedient to re-establish the light on Smith’s Island, which had been discontinued ever since the beginning of hostilities, and to erect a structure for a light on the ‘Mound.’ The ‘Mound’ was an artificial one, erected by Colonel Lamb, who commanded Fort Fisher.” Captain Wilkinson says of the “Mound” and the range lights: "Two heavy guns were mounted upon it, and it eventually became a site for a light, and very serviceable for blockade runners; but even at this period it was an excellent landmark. Joined by a long, low isthmus of sand with the higher mainland, its regular conical shape enabled the blockade runners easily to identify it from the offing; and in clear weather, it showed plain and distinct against the sky at night. I believe the military men used to laugh slyly at the colonel for undertaking its erection, predicting that it would not stand; but the result showed the contrary; and whatever difference of opinion may have existed with regard to its value as a military position, there can be but one as to its utility to the blockade runners, for it was not a landmark alone, along this monotonous coast, but one of the range lights for crossing New Inlet…

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Excerpt #5, from Life And Letters Of John Gay (1685

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Excerpt #6, from The Fifth Ace, by Isabel Ostrander

…Mr. Wiley is a friend and I will see him—-" “Not here, you won’t!” growled Jim. “He’s gone.” The girl wheeled upon him, her face darkening. “Gone where?” she demanded. “What do you mean, Jim?” “How should I know where?” The hotel-keeper shrugged. “His hacienda is shut up tight, except for the caretaker. Reckon he’s gone home for good. It wasn’t none too healthy for him around here.” Billie rose and stumbled to the window. Across the plaza beyond the flower-market, the Blue Chip could be discerned in an unfamiliar aspect of transformation. Scaffolding had been erected against its walls and their cerulean expanse was being rapidly hidden beneath a coating of brick red. Her eyes blurred for a moment, then a swift hardness came into them and her small fists clenched at her sides. “We will not discuss the matter of your inheritance, further, for the moment.” The lawyer’s voice, smooth as oil, came from just behind her. “You will listen to reason, I know, when you have had time for consideration. Mr. Baggott, here, will agree with me that you must accept the conditions of your grandfather’s will—-” “Mr. Baggott will do nothing of the kind,” vociferated that gentleman, suddenly. "I’ve listened to all you had to say, and kept my mouth shet, but since you’re bringing me into this, you might as well know…

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Excerpt #7, from Pygmalion, by Bernard Shaw

…PICKERING [much alarmed] Oh! but you’re coming back to Wimpole Street, aren’t you? You’ll forgive Higgins? HIGGINS [rising] Forgive! Will she, by George! Let her go. Let her find out how she can get on without us. She will relapse into the gutter in three weeks without me at her elbow. Doolittle appears at the centre window. With a look of dignified reproach at Higgins, he comes slowly and silently to his daughter, who, with her back to the window, is unconscious of his approach. PICKERING. He’s incorrigible, Eliza. You won’t relapse, will you? LIZA. No: Not now. Never again. I have learnt my lesson. I don’t believe I could utter one of the old sounds if I tried. [Doolittle touches her on her left shoulder. She drops her work, losing her self-possession utterly at the spectacle of her father’s splendor] A—a—a—a—a—ah—ow—ooh! HIGGINS [with a crow of triumph] Aha! Just so. A—a—a—a—ahowooh! A—a—a—a—ahowooh ! A—a—a—a—ahowooh! Victory! Victory! [He throws himself on the divan, folding his arms, and spraddling arrogantly]. DOOLITTLE. Can you blame the girl? Don’t look at me like that, Eliza. It ain’t my fault. I’ve come into money. LIZA. You must have touched a millionaire this time, dad. DOOLITTLE. I have. But I’m dressed something special today. I’m going…

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Excerpt #8, from The Grenadier Guards in the Great War of 1914 to 1918, Vol. 3 of 3, by Ponsonby

…Lieut. R. S. Challands No. 3 Company. Lieut. W. A. Pembroke " " 2nd Lieut. N. P. Andrews " " Lieut. H. Freeman-Greene No. 4 Company. 2nd Lieut. L. F. A. d’Erlanger " " 2nd Lieut. C. A. Fitch " " Capt. W. Lindsay, R.A.M.C. Medical Officer. Capt. the Rev. C. Venables Chaplain. [Sidenote: Nov. 5.] At 2.15 A.M. the Battalion moved out from Villers Pol with intervals of thirty yards between platoons, and marched to La Buvette cross-roads, where a halt was made, and the Lewis guns were taken off the limbers. Directed by two guides from the 1st Battalion Scots Guards, the Battalion made its way across country to a bridge, where a long halt was made to find the Headquarters of the 3rd Battalion Grenadiers–no easy matter in the dark. The Battalion eventually managed to get into position close behind the front line posts. No. 2 Company, under Lieutenant Kennaway, was on the right and in touch with the 2/20th London Regiment from the Sixty-second Division; No. 3 Company, under Lieutenant Challands, on the left in touch with the 2nd Battalion Scots Guards; No. 4 Company, under Lieutenant Freeman-Greene,…

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Excerpt #9, from Uncle Wiggily’s Adventures, by Howard Roger Garis

…“Yes, of course I want you,” replied the dog. “Then I guess I’ve got to go!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily, as he looked for his crutch and valise. “I guess this is the end of my fortune-hunting. Goodbye everybody!” And he felt so badly that two big tears rolled down his ears–I mean his eyes. Well, he bravely walked out of the door, and as he did so the dog-soldier, with the gun, exclaimed: “Ah, here you are at last! Now hurry up, Uncle Wiggily, or we’ll be late for the parade!” And, would you believe it? that dog was good, kind, old Percival, who used to be in a circus. And of course he wouldn’t hurt the rabbit gentleman for anything. Percival just put his gun to his shoulder, and said: “Come on, we’ll get in the parade now.” “Parade? What parade?” asked Uncle Wiggily. “Oh my! how you frightened me!” “Why the Decoration Day parade,” answered Percival. "To-day is the day when we put flowers on the soldiers’ graves, and remember them for being so brave as to go to war. All old soldiers march in the parade, and so do all their friends. I’m going to march, and I’m going to put flowers on a lot of soldiers’ graves. I happened to remember that you were once in the war, so I came for you. I didn’t mean to scare you. You were in the war,…

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Excerpt #10, from The Great Boer War, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…with guns. Lord Roberts determined to drive them off, and on March 28th Tucker’s 7th Division, consisting of Chermside’s brigade (Lincolns, Norfolks, Hampshires, and Scottish Borderers), and Wavell’s brigade (Cheshires, East Lancashires, North Staffords, and South Wales Borderers), were assembled at Glen. The artillery consisted of the veteran 18th, 62nd, and 75th R.F.A. Three attenuated cavalry brigades with some mounted infantry completed the force. The movement was to be upon the old model, and in result it proved to be only too truly so. French’s cavalry were to get round one flank, Le Gallais’s mounted infantry round the other, and Tucker’s Division to attack in front. Nothing could be more perfect in theory and nothing apparently more defective in practice. Since on this as on other occasions the mere fact that the cavalry were demonstrating in the rear caused the complete abandonment of the position, it is difficult to see what the object of the infantry attack could be. The ground was irregular and unexplored, and it was late before the horsemen on their weary steeds found themselves behind the flank of the enemy. Some of them, Le Gallais’s mounted infantry and Davidson’s guns, had come from Bloemfontein during the night, and the horses were exhausted by the long march, and by the absurd weight which the British troop-horse is asked to carry. Tucker advanced his infantry exactly as Kelly-Kenny had done…

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Excerpt #11, from Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log

…sailing ships of war, the little Water Witch and a merchant schooner carrying the 8-inch guns for our proposed shore battery. We had long discussed in the wardroom the many advantages of this coveted position in the river, as compared with the discomforts of our anchorage outside the bar, and now that we had achieved it, with nothing to annoy us but occasional visits from the Ivy, we settled down to the placid enjoyment of our environments. In fact we discovered that we even had “society” at our present station. This consisted of the family of a precious old scoundrel, half-fisherman, half-pirate, I imagine, when opportunity presented, who had a wife and a brace of buxom daughters. In default of anything better presenting itself, some of our younger officers used to visit this fellow’s cabin, ostensibly to purchase fish for their messes, but really with the hope of gleaning some information from him as to the condition of affairs at the forts above. The family always seemed glad to see our officers, especially when they brought offerings of coffee or tobacco, and, posing as “an original Union family,” spun them some very tough yarns. Meanwhile, as we later discovered at our cost, they were quietly selling us to their rebel friends up the river. On October 12 a schooner arrived with coal, and the Richmond took her…

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Excerpt #12, from Mr. Munchausen , by John Kendrick Bangs

…could you?" “I think I might try,” said Mr. Munchausen, puffing thoughtfully upon his cigar and making a ring with the smoke for Angelica to catch upon her little thumb. “I might try–but it will all depend upon whether you want me to tell you about Decoration Day as it is celebrated in the United States, or the way a band of missionaries I once knew in the Cannibal Islands observed it for twenty years or more.” “Why can’t we have both stories?” said Angelica. “I think that would be the nicest way. Two stories is twice as good as one.” “Well, I don’t know,” returned Mr. Munchausen. "You see the trouble is that in the first instance I could tell you only what a beautiful thing it is that every year the people have a day set apart upon which they especially honour the memory of the noble fellows who lost their lives in defence of their country. I’m not much of a poet and it takes a poet to be able to express how beautiful and grand it all is, and so I should be afraid to try it. Besides it might sadden your little hearts to have me dwell upon the almost countless number of heroes who let themselves be killed so that their fellow-citizens might live in peace and happiness. I’d have to tell you about hundreds and hundreds of graves scattered over the battle fields that no one knows about, and which, because no one knows of them, are not decorated at all,…

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