Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:23

Excerpt #1, from The call of Cthulhu, by H. P. Lovecraft

…possess it. On November 1st, 1907, there had come to New Orleans police a frantic summons from the swamp and lagoon country to the south. The squatters there, mostly primitive but good-natured descendants of Lafitte’s men, were in the grip of stark terror from an unknown thing which had stolen upon them in the night. It was voodoo, apparently, but voodoo of a more terrible sort than they had ever known; and some of their women and children had disappeared since the malevolent tom-tom had begun its incessant beating far within the black haunted woods where no dweller ventured. There were insane shouts and harrowing screams, soul-chilling chants and dancing devil-flames; and, the frightened messenger added, the people could stand it no more. So a body of twenty police, filling two carriages and an automobile, had set out in the late afternoon with the shivering squatter as a guide. At the end of the passable road they alighted, and for miles splashed on in silence through the terrible cypress woods where day never came. Ugly roots and malignant hanging nooses of Spanish moss beset them, and now and then a pile of dank stones or fragments of a rotting wall intensified by its hint of morbid habitation a depression which every malformed tree and every fungous islet combined to create. At length the squatter settlement, a miserable huddle of huts, hove in…

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Excerpt #2, from Champions of the Fleet, by Edward Fraser

…deemed advisable to keep the news secret if possible. The authorities at Calcutta understood that the French garrison at Chandernagore—barely twenty-five miles off up the Hooghly river—numbered some five hundred Europeans and a thousand Sepoys, and the French also had another garrison at Cossimbazaar (Kasim Bazar), within touch of Chandernagore. What if the French should make common cause with Suraj-u-daulah, then on his march down country, and reinforce his horde of armed men with their drilled troops, officered by men who had seen service. The bare idea was a nightmare to the Council of Calcutta. As it happened, Governor Renault at Chandernagore had received the news of war with England on the very day (the 6th of January) that the officials at Fort William had their information. They, too, for their own particular reasons, had decided for the time being to say nothing about it. The French at Chandernagore were, as a fact, in a very different position from what they were thought to be at Calcutta. The garrison actually numbered only a hundred and forty-six European soldiers, many of whom were invalids, and some three hundred Sepoys. In addition there were between three and four hundred officials, traders, and sailors belonging to ships from France in the river. What was to be done was a very difficult question. There seemed to be two courses open. One was to join with the Nawab in his campaign against Calcutta then—in January—just…

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Excerpt #3, from Don Juan, by Baron George Gordon Byron Byron

…I know its mighty empire now allures Much flattery—even Voltaire’s, and that ’s a pity. For me, I deem an absolute autocrat Not a barbarian, but much worse than that. And I will war, at least in words (and—should My chance so happen—deeds), with all who war With Thought;—and of Thought’s foes by far most rude, Tyrants and sycophants have been and are. I know not who may conquer: if I could Have such a prescience, it should be no bar To this my plain, sworn, downright detestation Of every depotism in every nation. It is not that I adulate the people: Without me, there are demagogues enough, And infidels, to pull down every steeple, And set up in their stead some proper stuff. Whether they may sow scepticism to reap hell, As is the Christian dogma rather rough, I do not know;—I wish men to be free As much from mobs as kings—from you as me. The consequence is, being of no party,…

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Excerpt #4, from Condemned as a Nihilist: A Story of Escape from Siberia, by G. A. Henty

…the length of their sentence, they are allowed to live out of prison, and after a still further time are at liberty to settle down anywhere in Siberia they choose." “Have you been here long?” Godfrey asked. “I have been here three years,” he said, “and I should be out by this time if I had not run away last year.” “How did you get on?” “I got on well enough till the cold weather came. There are plenty of berries in the woods, and besides we occasionally came down and stole things from the carts waiting at night at the post-houses. We got a chest of tea once, and that lasted us all through the summer. There were ten of us together. Besides that, the people all along the road are very good to escaped prisoners. They dare not give them anything, because, if it were known they did so, they would be severely punished; but on the window-sill of almost every house is placed at night a plate with food on it, in case any wanderer should come along. Of course when winter came I had to give myself up.” “Do you think escape altogether is possible?” "I don’t say that it is not possible, for some have done it; but I suppose for every one who has tried it, hundreds have died. There is no living in the mountains in winter. Men do get free. There are a great…

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Excerpt #5, from The Awakening, and Selected Short Stories, by Kate Chopin

…bed,” said her husband, when he discovered her lying there. He had walked up with Madame Lebrun and left her at the house. His wife did not reply. “Are you asleep?” he asked, bending down close to look at her. “No.” Her eyes gleamed bright and intense, with no sleepy shadows, as they looked into his. “Do you know it is past one o’clock? Come on,” and he mounted the steps and went into their room. “Edna!” called Mr. Pontellier from within, after a few moments had gone by. “Don’t wait for me,” she answered. He thrust his head through the door. “You will take cold out there,” he said, irritably. “What folly is this? Why don’t you come in?” “It isn’t cold; I have my shawl.” “The mosquitoes will devour you.” “There are no mosquitoes.” She heard him moving about the room; every sound indicating impatience and irritation. Another time she would have gone in at his request. She would, through habit, have yielded to his desire; not with any sense of submission or obedience to his compelling wishes, but unthinkingly, as we walk, move, sit, stand, go through the daily treadmill of the life…

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Excerpt #6, from Stage Coach and Tavern Days, by Alice Morse Earle

…delivered a series of Moral Dialogues In Five Parts Depicting the evil effects of jealousy and other bad passions and Proving that happiness can only spring from the pursuit of Virtue. MR. DOUGLASS–Will represent a noble magnanimous Moor called Othello, who loves a young lady named Desdemona, and, after he marries her, harbours (as in too many cases) the dreadful passion of jealousy. Of jealousy, our being’s bane Mark the small cause and the most dreadful pain. MR. ALLYN–Will depict the character of a specious villain, in the regiment of Othello, who is so base as to hate his commander on mere suspicion and to impose on his best friend. Of such characters, it is to be feared, there are thousands in the world, and the one in question may present to us a salutary warning. The man that wrongs his master and his friend What can he come to but a shameful end? MR. HALLAM–Will delineate a young and thoughtless officer who is traduced by Mr. Allyn and, getting drunk, loses his situation and his general’s esteem. All young men whatsoever take example from Cassio. _The ill effects of drinking would you see?…

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Excerpt #7, from Seven Short Plays, by Lady Gregory

…and his information from I don’t know, unless it might be that he is gifted from above. Sergeant: Well, Mrs. Delane, I think we have settled that question. Mr. Halvey, you will be the speaker at the meeting. The lecturer sent these notes—you can lengthen them into a speech. You can call to the people of Cloon to stand out, to begin the building of their character. I saw a lecturer do it one time at Dundrum. “Come up here,” he said, “Dare to be a Daniel,” he said—— Hyacinth: I can’t—I won’t—— Sergeant: (Looking at papers and thrusting them into his hand.) You will find it quite easy. I will conduct you to the platform—these papers before you and a glass of water—That’s settled. (Turns to go.) Follow me on to the Courthouse in half an hour—I must go to the barracks first—I heard there was a telegram—(Calls back as he goes.) Don’t be late, Mrs. Delane. Mind, Quirke, you promised to come. Mrs. Delane: Well, it’s time for me to make an end of settling myself—and indeed, Mr. Quirke, you’d best do the same. Mr. Quirke: (Rubbing his cheek.) I suppose so. I had best keep on good terms with him for the present. (Turns.) Well, now, I had a great escape this day. (Both go in as Fardy reappears whistling.)…

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Excerpt #8, from The Grand Inquisitor, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

…made tolerable. And once convinced of it, he sees as clearly that to achieve that object, one must follow blindly the guidance of the wise spirit, the fearful spirit of death and destruction, hence accept a system of lies and deception and lead humanity consciously this time toward death and destruction, and moreover, be deceiving them all the while in order to prevent them from realizing where they are being led, and so force the miserable blind men to feel happy, at least while here on earth. And note this: a wholesale deception in the name of Him, in whose ideal the old man had so passionately, so fervently, believed during nearly his whole life! Is this no suffering? And were such a solitary exception found amidst, and at the head of, that army ‘that thirsts for power but for the sake of the mean pleasures of life,’ think you one such man would not suffice to bring on a tragedy? Moreover, one single man like my Inquisitor as a principal leader, would prove sufficient to discover the real guiding idea of the Romish system with all its armies of Jesuits, the greatest and chiefest conviction that the solitary type described in my poem has at no time ever disappeared from among the chief leaders of that movement. Who knows but that terrible old man, loving humanity so stubbornly and in such an original…

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Excerpt #9, from Japan: From the Japanese Government History, by Kan’ichi Asakawa

…day. The advocates of recourse to arms resigned, and a new cabinet was organized, under Iwakura and Ōkubo, which was the first cabinet change in Japan since the restoration. The immediate effects of this change were important. The revolt of Etō has already been related, and the case of Itagaki and Gotō will soon be heard of. The name of Saigō has been mentioned as one of the two heroes whose mutual trust had resulted in averting the great battle imminent in Edo. A man of overmastering sincerity, his position in the Tōkyō government, in which he was commander in chief of the army, had been unique. When he resigned and retired to Kagoshima in Satsuma, and established a private military school, nearly all the ambitious young men of the province flocked to the school. Many came from other prefectures also, for Saigō’s reputation as the chief agent in bringing about the restoration was immense, and his simple, great personality commanded universal love and respect. These students, little intent on studies, where animated by a desire to raise Saigō to the leadership of a colossal opposition to the new cabinet, whose policy and conduct they honestly abhorred. When the Hagi and Kumamoto insurrections broke out in 1876 these truculent students maintained correspondence with the rebels, but refrained from openly imitating their example. By and by, some officials of the imperial government who visited the province were seized by the students…

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Excerpt #10, from The Sign of the Four, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-box addresses?” “I have them here,” she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of paper. “You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now.” He spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting glances from one to the other. “They are disguised hands, except the letter,” he said, presently, “but there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same person. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblance between this hand and that of your father?” “Nothing could be more unlike.” “I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then.” “Au revoir,” said our visitor, and, with a bright, kindly glance from one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and hurried away. Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the street, until the grey turban and white feather were but a…

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Excerpt #11, from The Pirates’ Who’s Who, by Philip Gosse

…cut an innocent throat. He only had one hand, and used to fire his piece with great skill, laying the barrel on his stump, and drawing the trigger with his right hand. In all the American “plantations” there were rewards offered for him alive or dead. The end of this “penny-dreadful” pirate is unrecorded, but was probably a violent one, as this type of pirate seldom, if ever, died in his bed. JOHNSON, ISAAC. One of Captain Quelch’s crew. Tried for piracy at the Star Tavern at Boston in 1704. JOHNSON, JACOB. Taken prisoner by Captain Roberts out of the King Solomon, he joined the pirates. JOHNSON, JOHN, or JAYNSON. Born “nigh Lancaster.” Taken out of the King Solomon. One of Roberts’s crew. Hanged in 1722 at the age of 22. JOHNSON, MARCUS. One of Captain Roberts’s crew. Hanged in 1722. Stated in his death warrant to be a native of Smyrna. Died at the age of 21. JOHNSON, ROBERT….

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Excerpt #12, from Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka

…open window. Would his sister have to go and earn money? She was still a child of seventeen, her life up till then had been very enviable, consisting of wearing nice clothes, sleeping late, helping out in the business, joining in with a few modest pleasures and most of all playing the violin. Whenever they began to talk of the need to earn money, Gregor would always first let go of the door and then throw himself onto the cool, leather sofa next to it, as he became quite hot with shame and regret. He would often lie there the whole night through, not sleeping a wink but scratching at the leather for hours on end. Or he might go to all the effort of pushing a chair to the window, climbing up onto the sill and, propped up in the chair, leaning on the window to stare out of it. He had used to feel a great sense of freedom from doing this, but doing it now was obviously something more remembered than experienced, as what he actually saw in this way was becoming less distinct every day, even things that were quite near; he had used to curse the ever-present view of the hospital across the street, but now he could not see it at all, and if he had not known that he lived in Charlottenstrasse, which was a quiet street despite being in the middle of the city, he could have thought that he was looking out the window at a barren waste where the grey sky and the grey earth mingled inseparably. His observant…

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