Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:13

Excerpt #1, from Primitive & Mediaeval Japanese Texts, by F. Victor Dickins

…hidzuchi nakedomo aki-daranu ka mo. 1-10 suggest the death of the Miko (Takechi?); 11-18 the faithful service of his retainers; 19 to end, their inconsolable grief. 3, 4 This common phrase seems to mean ‘for some reason or other’, an expression used to signify dubiety of cause, real or respectful. 24 omohi-hafuru = omohi-hanachi-chirasu. For shikishimano, yukutorino, tsurugitachi see List m. k. tonogomori and amakumoni are quasi m. k. 185 Momoshinuno 1 Minu no ohokimi nishi no umaya tatete kafu koma himukashi no umaya 5 tatete kafu koma kusa koso ha torite kahi-name midzu koso ha kumite kahi-name 10 nani shi ka mo…

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Excerpt #2, from Vistas in Sicily, by Arthur Stanley Riggs

…of the “pans” are a yard in diameter by about eight inches deep, the wreaths draped with plentiful streamers of black upon which are stamped in gold letters suitable inscriptions and the names of the departed. The monks were chanting sleepily in a choir gallery as we entered the sacristy of the little church, to examine some interesting unfinished cartoons upon the walls for frescoes never executed–our guide an amazing friendly young brother whose face was a replica of Giotto’s unforgettable fresco of Dante in the Florence Bargello. Fra Giacomo, he called himself; and his interest in the world generally, his simple attitude of dangerous curiosity in everything not connected with the cloistered life, made us think of Hichens’ sorry hero–if hero he could be called!–in the “Garden of Allah.” Neither he, nor any of the other monks with whom we came into contact anywhere in either Sicily or Italy, had the spiritual austerity that is so marked a characteristic of the Spanish monk; nothing at all of the bearing or atmosphere that instantly stamps a man as either genuinely consecrated or fanatic–according to the eye with which he is seen. This lack of spirituality came out strongly when, wholly ignoring the service going on, Fra Giacomo dragged a confessional with a dreadful clatter across the tiled floor to serve as a camera-stand from which he insisted that I photograph the poor, bare little altar with its tawdry…

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Excerpt #3, from Astounding Stories, August, 1931, by Various

…instruments for space navigation that the ensuing years were to bring. Chet’s accuracy was more the result of that flyer’s sixth sense–that same uncanny power that had served aviators so well in an earlier day. But Chet was glad to see his instruments registering once more as he approached a new world. Even the sonoflector was recording; its invisible rays were darting downward to be reflected back again from the surface below. That absolute altitude recording was a joy to read; it meant a definite relationship with the world. “I’ll hold her at fifty thousand,” he told Harkness. “Watch for some outline that you can remember from last time.” There was an irregular area of continental size; only when they had crossed it did Harkness point toward an outflung projection of land. “That peninsula,” he exclaimed; “we saw that before! Swing south and inland…. Now down forty, and east of south…. This ought to be the spot.” Perhaps Harkness, too, had the flyer’s indefinable power of orientation. He guided Chet in the downward flight, and his pointing finger aimed at last at a cluster of shadows where a setting sun brought mountain ranges into strong relief. Chet held the ship steady, hung high in the air, while the quick-spreading mantle of night swept…

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Excerpt #4, from The Wave: An Egyptian Aftermath, by Algernon Blackwood

…Tony and his Amanda had been with them. The incident in question had left a singular impression on his mind, though why it emerged now, as they wandered through the quiet wood, he could not tell. It had occurred a week or two ago. He now saw it again–in a tenth of the time it takes to tell. The scene was laid in ancient Egypt, and while the play was commonplace, the elaborate production–scenery, dresses, atmosphere–was good. But Tom, unable to feel interest in the trivial and badly acted story, had felt interest in another thing he could not name. There was a subtle charm, a delicate glamour about it as of immensely old romance, but some lost romance of very far away. Yet, whether this charm was due to the stage effects or to themselves, sitting there in the stalls together, escaped him. For in some singular way the party, his hostess certainly, seemed to interpenetrate the play itself. She, above all, and Tony vaguely, seemed inseparable from what he gazed at, heard, and felt. Continually he caught himself thinking how delightful it was to know himself next to Madame Jaretzka, so close that he shared her atmosphere, her perfume, touched her even; that their minds were engaged intimately together watching the same scene; and also, that on her other side, sat Tony, affectionate, whimsical, fascinating Tony, whom they were trying to help ‘find himself’; and that he, again, was next to a girl he liked….

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Excerpt #5, from Sixty Years in Southern California, 1853

…dollars. On the sixth of November, 1875, Mrs. Joseph Newmark, my wife’s mother, died here surrounded by her nearest of kin. During the construction of the Southern Pacific Railway, Sisson, Wallace & Company, who furnished both labor and supplies, brought M. Dodsworth to Los Angeles and like many of their employees, he remained here after the railroad was completed. He engaged in the pork-packing business, for a long period prospered and built a residence on the southwest corner of Sixth and Main streets, opening it with a large reception. He was an honorable man and had a host of friends; but about 1887, when the Santa Fé had been built to Los Angeles, the large Eastern packers of hog products sent agents into Southern California and wiped Dodsworth out of business. S. J. Mathes came in 1875, helped enlarge the Mirror and was identified with the Times; but failing health, forcing him to abandon office work, led him in the eighties to conduct Pullman excursions, in which undertaking he became a pioneer, bringing thousands of tourists to the Southland. He also toured the country with a railway car exhibit known as “California on Wheels,” pointing the way of exploitation to later Chambers of Commerce. Toward the end of the year, when attention was being centered on the…

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Excerpt #6, from The Beetle: A Mystery, by Richard Marsh

…‘Then for what did you come?’ I do not know what there was about the question which was startling, but as soon as it was out, she went a fiery red. ‘Because I was a fool.’ I was bewildered. Either she had got out of the wrong side of bed, or I had,–or we both had. Here she was, assailing me, hammer and tongs, so far as I could see, for absolutely nothing. ‘You are pleased to be satirical at my expense.’ ‘I should not dare. Your detection of me would be so painfully rapid.’ I was in no mood for jangling. I turned a little away from her. Immediately she was at my elbow. ‘Mr Atherton?’ ‘Miss Grayling.’ ‘Are you cross with me?’ ‘Why should I be? If it pleases you to laugh at my stupidity you are completely justified.’ ‘But you are not stupid.’ ‘No?–Nor you satirical.’ ‘You are not stupid,–you know you are not stupid; it was only stupidity on my part to pretend that you were.’ ‘It is very good of you to say so.–But I fear that I am an indifferent…

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Excerpt #7, from Radio Activity, by Ernest Rutherford

…science. It carries a negative charge of value 3·4 × 10⁻¹⁰ electrostatic units. Its presence has only been detected when in rapid motion, when, for speeds up to about 10¹⁰ cms. a second, it has an apparent mass m given by e/m = 1·86 × 10⁷ electromagnetic units. This apparent mass increases with the speed as the velocity of light is approached (see section 82). The ions which are produced in gases at ordinary pressure have an apparent size, as determined from their rates of diffusion, large compared with the molecule of the gas in which they are produced. The negative ion consists of an electron with a cluster of molecules attached to and moving with it; the positive ion consists of a molecule from which an electron has been expelled, with a cluster of molecules attached. At low pressures under the action of an electric field the electron does not form a cluster. The positive ion is always atomic in size, even at low pressures of the gas. Each of the ions carries a charge of value 3·4 × 10⁻¹⁰ electrostatic units. =41. Ions produced by collision.= The greater part of the radiation from the radio-active bodies consists of a stream of charged particles travelling with great velocity. In this radiation, the α particles, which cause most of the ionization observed in the gas, consist of positively charged bodies projected with a velocity about one-tenth the…

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Excerpt #8, from Rounding up the Raider: A Naval Story of the Great War, by Percy F. Westerman

…hills at a distance of about ten miles from the coast. The lagoon was quite three miles in breadth and extended in a northerly direction beyond the range of vision. Southward it gradually converged towards the coast, apparently joining it at a distance of five miles from where the ships lay. “An anchorage big enough to take the whole of the British Navy,” declared Denbigh. “It’s the bar that spoils the place, apart from the pestilential swamps. Do you see that peculiar isolated tree? It’s a casuarina. It marks the principal entrance to the Mohoro–or did when I was here last, but these African rivers have a peculiar knack of altering their course entirely in a night.” “I suppose we are going straight up,” remarked O’Hara. “There’s depth enough for us.” “Goodness knows,” replied his chum. “At all events the Pelikan can’t.” Apparently the Germans had a good knowledge of the lagoon, for boldly closing with the land, the Pelikan dropped anchor within three hundred yards of the highest part of the shore, where a cliff rose abruptly to the height of thirty or forty feet. On the summit the ground shelved gently. There were several native huts to be seen in the clearing between the mangroves, while farther back was a…

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Excerpt #9, from Soldiers’ Stories of the War, by Walter Wood and A. C. Michael

…It was at this terrible crisis that Captain Douglas Reynolds and volunteers rushed up with two teams and limbered up two guns, and in spite of all the German batteries and rifles did one gun was saved. This was a wonderful escape, in view of the nearness of the German infantry and their numbers, and for their share in the desperate affair the captain and two of the drivers–Drane and Luke–who had volunteered, got the Victoria Cross. In a way we had got used to retiring, and we were not at the end of it even now, by a good deal, for on our left the Borderers were withdrawing and on our right the Manchesters were being forced right back; fighting magnificently and leaving the ground littered with their dead and wounded. The Yorkshire Light Infantry were left in the centre of the very front line of the trenches, where we were heavily pressed. We made every mortal effort to hold our ground, and C Company was ordered up from the second line to reinforce us in the first. Imagine what it meant for a company of infantry to get from one trench to another at a time like that, to leave shelter, to rush across a space of open ground that was literally riddled with shrapnel and rifle bullets, and in the daytime, too, with the Germans in overwhelming force at point-blank range….

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Excerpt #10, from Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, by Henry David Thoreau

…much they have reaped. Who would live there where a body can never think for the barking of Bose? And O, the housekeeping! to keep bright the devil’s door-knobs, and scour his tubs this bright day! Better not keep a house. Say, some hollow tree; and then for morning calls and dinner-parties! Only a woodpecker tapping. O, they swarm; the sun is too warm there; they are born too far into life for me. I have water from the spring, and a loaf of brown bread on the shelf.—Hark! I hear a rustling of the leaves. Is it some ill-fed village hound yielding to the instinct of the chase? or the lost pig which is said to be in these woods, whose tracks I saw after the rain? It comes on apace; my sumachs and sweet-briers tremble.—Eh, Mr. Poet, is it you? How do you like the world to-day? Poet. See those clouds; how they hang! That’s the greatest thing I have seen to-day. There’s nothing like it in old paintings, nothing like it in foreign lands,—unless when we were off the coast of Spain. That’s a true Mediterranean sky. I thought, as I have my living to get, and have not eaten to-day, that I might go a-fishing. That’s the true industry for poets. It is the only trade I have learned. Come, let’s along. Hermit. I cannot resist. My brown bread will soon be gone. I will go with you gladly soon, but I am just concluding a serious meditation. I…

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Excerpt #11, from Roughing It in the Bush, by Susanna Moodie

…Indian. Indian must learn your words to swear and take God’s name in vain.” Oh, what a reproof to Christian men! I felt abashed, and degraded in the eyes of this poor savage–who, ignorant as he was in many respects, yet possessed that first great attribute of the soul, a deep reverence for the Supreme Being. How inferior were thousands of my countrymen to him in this important point. The affection of Indian parents to their children, and the deference which they pay to the aged, is another beautiful and touching trait in their character. One extremely cold, wintry day, as I was huddled with my little ones over the stove, the door softly unclosed, and the moccasined foot of an Indian crossed the floor. I raised my head, for I was too much accustomed to their sudden appearance at any hour to feel alarmed, and perceived a tall woman standing silently and respectfully before me, wrapped in a large blanket. The moment she caught my eye she dropped the folds of her covering from around her, and laid at my feet the attenuated figure of a boy, about twelve years of age, who was in the last stage of consumption. “Papouse die,” she said, mournfully clasping her hands against her breast, and looking down upon the suffering lad with the most…

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Excerpt #12, from Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, by Mark Twain

…every time he raised Cain he got jailed. He was just suited–this kind of thing was right in his line. He got to hanging around the widow’s too much and so she told him at last that if he didn’t quit using around there she would make trouble for him. Well, wasn’t he mad? He said he would show who was Huck Finn’s boss. So he watched out for me one day in the spring, and catched me, and took me up the river about three mile in a skiff, and crossed over to the Illinois shore where it was woody and there warn’t no houses but an old log hut in a place where the timber was so thick you couldn’t find it if you didn’t know where it was. He kept me with him all the time, and I never got a chance to run off. We lived in that old cabin, and he always locked the door and put the key under his head nights. He had a gun which he had stole, I reckon, and we fished and hunted, and that was what we lived on. Every little while he locked me in and went down to the store, three miles, to the ferry, and traded fish and game for whisky, and fetched it home and got drunk and had a good time, and licked me. The widow she found out where I was by and by, and she sent a man over to try to get hold of me; but pap drove him off with the gun, and it warn’t long after that till I was used to being where I was, and liked it–all but the cowhide part. It was kind of lazy and jolly, laying off comfortable all day, smoking…

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