Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:11

Excerpt #1, from The Mark of Zorro, by Johnston McCulley

…the rich furnishings in the house of Don Diego Vega, she might the more readily accept Don Diego as a husband, he thought. When she saw the silks and satins, the elegant tapestries, the furniture inlaid with gold and studded with precious stones, when she realized that she could be mistress of this and much more besides–Don Carlos flattered himself that he knew the feminine heart. Soon after the siesta hour, a carreta was brought before the door, drawn by mules and driven by a native. Doña Catalina and Lolita got into it, and Don Carlos bestrode his best horse and rode at its side. And so they went down the trail to the highway, and down the highway toward Reina de Los Angeles. They passed folk who marveled to see the Pulido family thus going abroad, for it was well known that they had met with ill fortune and scarcely went anywhere now. It was even whispered that the ladies did not keep up with the fashions, and that the servants were poorly fed, but remained at the hacienda because their master was so kind. But Doña Catalina and her daughter held their heads proudly, as did Don Carlos, and they greeted the people they knew, and so continued along the highway. Presently they made a turning and could see the pueblo in the distance–the plaza, and the church with its high cross on one side…

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Excerpt #2, from Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official, by William Sleeman

…Tîmûr (Tamerlane) in Hindustan, save Shâh Jahân himself and his four sons. Dârâ was then thirteen years of age, Shujâ twelve, Aurangzêb ten, and Murâd four;[23] and all were present to learn from their father this sad lesson–that such of them who might be alive on his death, save one, must, with their sons, be hunted down and destroyed like mad dogs, lest they might get into the hands of the disaffected, and be made the tools of faction. Monsieur de Thevenot, who visited Agra, as I have before stated, in 1666, says, ‘Some affirm that there are twenty-five thousand Christian families in Agra; but all do not agree in that. The Dutch have a factory in the town, but the English have now none, because it did not turn to account.’ The number must have been great, or so sober a man as Monsieur Thevenot would not have thought such an estimate worthy to be quoted without contradiction.[24] They were all, except those connected with the single Dutch factory, maintained from the salaries of office; and they gradually disappeared as their offices became filled with Muhammadans and Hindoos. The duties of the artillery, its arsenals, and foundries, were the chief foundation upon which the superstructure of Christianity then stood in India. These duties were everywhere entrusted exclusively to Europeans, and all Europeans were Christians, and, under Shâh Jahân, permitted…

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Excerpt #3, from Kidnapped, by Robert Louis Stevenson

…amusement, “Ye’re no very gleg* at the jumping,” said he. * Brisk. At this I suppose I coloured with mortification, for he added at once, “Hoots! small blame to ye! To be feared of a thing and yet to do it, is what makes the prettiest kind of a man. And then there was water there, and water’s a thing that dauntons even me. No, no,” said Alan, “it’s no you that’s to blame, it’s me.” I asked him why. “Why,” said he, “I have proved myself a gomeral this night. For first of all I take a wrong road, and that in my own country of Appin; so that the day has caught us where we should never have been; and thanks to that, we lie here in some danger and mair discomfort. And next (which is the worst of the two, for a man that has been so much among the heather as myself) I have come wanting a water-bottle, and here we lie for a long summer’s day with naething but neat spirit. Ye may think that a small matter; but before it comes night, David, ye’ll give me news of it.” I was anxious to redeem my character, and offered, if he would pour out the brandy, to run down and fill the bottle at the river. “I wouldnae waste the good spirit either,” says he. “It’s been a good friend to you this night; or in my poor opinion, ye would still be…

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Excerpt #4, from The Blue Raider: A Tale of Adventure in the Southern Seas, by Herbert Strang

…tribe, and became the ruling caste. The present chief is probably the great-grandson of the Frenchman; he has no idea how old he is, or how many generations come between him and his ancestor. From the portrait of Louis XVI. we saw in the cabin, it’s pretty clear that this happened a hundred and twenty odd years ago. In that time, of course, the French stock has degenerated; as you heard, they ’ve retained a word or two of the French language, and they ’ve tried to keep themselves select by banishing from their inner enclosure all who take after the aborigines in feature, retaining only those who have something of the European cast of face. That, as I understood the story, has led to trouble. It’s a case of plebs and patricians over again. The patricians are gradually weakening, the plebs becoming stronger; and the chief seems to be decidedly jumpy; his authority is waning. You heard that howl just now?’ ’We did,’ replied Hoole. ’Meek made sure you ’d been thrown to the dogs.’ Trentham smiled. ’The fact is, the plebs were disappointed of their feast. They are cannibals; the patricians are not. A big fellow came up as spokesman of the plebs, and declared they must have one of us four. Grinson is protected by his goose, and the chief wouldn’t give them you, Hoole, or me, because we know French. But he suggested that we might dispense…

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Excerpt #5, from The Problems of Philosophy, by Bertrand Russell

…means as soon as we understand the universals involved, namely man and mortal. It is obviously unnecessary to have an individual acquaintance with the whole human race in order to understand what our proposition means. Thus the difference between an a priori general proposition and an empirical generalization does not come in the meaning of the proposition; it comes in the nature of the evidence for it. In the empirical case, the evidence consists in the particular instances. We believe that all men are mortal because we know that there are innumerable instances of men dying, and no instances of their living beyond a certain age. We do not believe it because we see a connexion between the universal man and the universal mortal. It is true that if physiology can prove, assuming the general laws that govern living bodies, that no living organism can last for ever, that gives a connexion between man and mortality which would enable us to assert our proposition without appealing to the special evidence of men dying. But that only means that our generalization has been subsumed under a wider generalization, for which the evidence is still of the same kind, though more extensive. The progress of science is constantly producing such subsumptions, and therefore giving a constantly wider inductive basis for scientific generalizations. But although this gives a greater degree of certainty, it does not give a different kind:…

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Excerpt #6, from James Nasmyth, Engineer: An Autobiography, by James Nasmyth

…to Rosina, a little village on the way back to Naples. As I had had nothing to eat or drink during this thirst-producing journey, I went into a wine shop and asked for some refreshment. The wine shop was a sort of vault, with a door like that of a coach-house, but with a bench and narrow table. The good woman brought me a great green glass bottle like a vitriol carboy! It contained more than six gallons of wine, and she left me with a big glass to satisfy my wants. The wine was the veritable Lachryma, Christi–a delightful light claret–for producing which the vineyards at the base of Vesuvius are famous. After some most glorious swigs from this generous and jovial carboy, accompanied with some delightful fresh made bread, I felt myself up to anything. After washing down the dust that I had swallowed during the day, I settled with my liberal landlady (indeed she was mightily pleased with only tenpence), and started for Naples. I had still an eight-mile walk before me, but that was nothing to my vigorous powers at that time. The moon had risen during my stay in the wine house, and it shone with a bright clear light. After a few miles’ walking I felt a little tired, for the day’s exercise had been rather toilsome. A fine carriage passed me on the road with a most tempting platform behind. I hailed the driver, and was allowed to mount. I was soon bowling along the lava paved road, and in a short…

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Excerpt #7, from Let’s Get Together, by Isaac Asimov

…will begin with an all-Science conference." “All-Science?” Breckenridge said, “We have listed every important scientist of every branch of natural science. They’ll all be at Cheyenne. There will be only one point on the agenda: How to advance robotics. The major specific sub-heading under that will be: How to develop a receiving device for the electromagnetic fields of the cerebral cortex that will be sufficiently delicate to distinguish between a protoplasmic human brain and a positronic humanoid brain.” Jeffreys said, “We had hoped you would be willing to be in charge of the conference.” “I was not consulted in this.” “Obviously time was short, sir. Do you agree to be in charge?” Lynn smiled briefly. It was a matter of responsibility again. The responsibility must be clearly that of Lynn of Robotics. He had the feeling it would be Breckenridge who would really be in charge. But what could he do? He said, “I agree.” * * * * * Breckenridge and Lynn returned together to Cheyenne, where that evening Laszlo listened with a sullen mistrust to Lynn’s description of coming…

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Excerpt #8, from Literary Lapses, by Stephen Leacock

…his teeth, the enormous bandit rushed upon his intrepid opponent. De Vaux seemed scarce more than a stripling, but he stood his ground and faced his hitherto invincible assailant. ‘Mong Dieu,’ cried De Smythe, ‘he is lost!’" Question. On which of the parties to the above contest do you honestly feel inclined to put your money? Answer. On De Vaux. He’ll win. Hairy Hank will force him down to one knee and with a brutal cry of “Har! har!” will be about to dirk him, when De Vaux will make a sudden lunge (one he had learnt at home out of a book of lunges) and– Very good. You have answered correctly. Now, suppose you find, a little later in the book, that the killing of Hairy Hank has compelled De Vaux to flee from his native land to the East. Are you not fearful for his safety in the desert? Answer. Frankly, I am not. De Vaux is all right. His name is on the title page, and you can’t kill him. Question. Listen to this, then: "The sun of Ethiopia beat fiercely upon the desert as De Vaux, mounted upon his faithful elephant, pursued his lonely way. Seated in his lofty hoo-doo, his eye scoured the waste. Suddenly a solitary horseman appeared on the horizon, then another, and another, and then six. In a few moments a whole crowd of solitary…

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Excerpt #9, from A Study in Scarlet, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…these accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all,” I said to myself, “I may as well give up the attempt at once.” I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin. These were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other accomplishments. That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at my request he has played me some of Mendelssohn’s Lieder, and other favourites. When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm-chair of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the fiddle which was thrown across his knee. Sometimes the chords were sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was simply the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine. I might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a whole series of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon my patience. During the first week or so we had no callers, and I had begun to think that my companion was as friendless a man as I was myself. Presently, however, I found that he had many acquaintances, and those in the most different classes of society. There was one little sallow rat-faced,…

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Excerpt #10, from Letters Written During a Short Residence in Sweden, Norway, and Denmark

…discern, that the art of embellishing consists in interesting, not in astonishing. Christiania is certainly very pleasantly situated, and the environs I passed through, during this ride, afforded many fine and cultivated prospects; but, excepting the first view approaching to it, rarely present any combination of objects so strikingly new, or picturesque, as to command remembrance. Adieu! LETTER XIV. Christiania is a clean, neat city; but it has none of the graces of architecture, which ought to keep pace with the refining manners of a people–or the outside of the house will disgrace the inside, giving the beholder an idea of overgrown wealth devoid of taste. Large square wooden houses offend the eye, displaying more than Gothic barbarism. Huge Gothic piles, indeed, exhibit a characteristic sublimity, and a wildness of fancy peculiar to the period when they were erected; but size, without grandeur or elegance, has an emphatical stamp of meanness, of poverty of conception, which only a commercial spirit could give. The same thought has struck me, when I have entered the meeting-house of my respected friend, Dr. Price. I am surprised that the dissenters, who have not laid aside all the pomps and vanities of life, should imagine a noble pillar, or arch, unhallowed. Whilst men have senses, whatever…

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Excerpt #11, from The War of the Worlds, by H. G. Wells

…longing to peer into it. I began walking, therefore, in a big curve, seeking some point of vantage and continually looking at the sand-heaps that hid these new-comers to our earth. Once a leash of thin black whips, like the arms of an octopus, flashed across the sunset and was immediately withdrawn, and afterwards a thin rod rose up, joint by joint, bearing at its apex a circular disk that spun with a wobbling motion. What could be going on there? Most of the spectators had gathered in one or two groups—one a little crowd towards Woking, the other a knot of people in the direction of Chobham. Evidently they shared my mental conflict. There were few near me. One man I approached—he was, I perceived, a neighbour of mine, though I did not know his name—and accosted. But it was scarcely a time for articulate conversation. “What ugly brutes!” he said. “Good God! What ugly brutes!” He repeated this over and over again. “Did you see a man in the pit?” I said; but he made no answer to that. We became silent, and stood watching for a time side by side, deriving, I fancy, a certain comfort in one another’s company. Then I shifted my position to a little knoll that gave me the advantage of a yard or more of elevation and when I looked for him presently he was walking towards Woking….

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Excerpt #12, from Dave Dashaway, Air Champion; Or, Wizard Work in the Clouds, by Roy Rockwood

…“Here! here!” shouted the astonished Hiram, “get off there. You’ll smash things.” “Start her up,” ordered the intruder, “do it quick, without a word, or—” The speaker must have known something about flying machines, for with a dexterous move he landed in the cockpit. As he did so, he completed his menacing words by holding a pistol close to the head of the startled Hiram Dobbs. ———————————————————————— CHAPTER XI A STRANGE RACE Dave, busying himself about the Ariel inside the hangar, had caught an echo of the shot outside the fence and the shouts accompanying it. There was generally considerable commotion about the grounds, however, and he paid no particular attention to these demonstrations. Even the sound of the exhaust of the Scout did not suggest anything out of the ordinary. It was only when a loud cry sounded directly beyond the open doors of the hangar, that the young airman was aroused. “Oh, Mr. Dashaway!” gasped out a startling voice—“come here! come, quick!” Dave looked up to discern Rohan, his newly employed watchman. The latter was limping towards the hangar. The light from the inside shone…

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