Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:25:47

Excerpt #1, from Crimes of Preachers in the United States and Canada, by M. E. Billings

…wife, and adultery. 1909. Duncan, Rev. D. B., Crawfordsville, Ind. Presbyterian. Cruel and inhuman treatment of wife; divorced. 1900. Duncan, Rev. Kenneth, San Francisco, Cal. Evangelist. Petty larceny; stole clothes; jailed. 1913. Duncan, Matthew and Luke, Knoxville, Tenn. Baptist. Assault. 1904. Dundonough, Rev. Jas., Eau Claire, Wis. Ran away with girl, forsaking flock. 1912. Dunn, Rev. William F., Evansville, Ind. Methodist. Immoral conduct; three months in jail. 1909. Dunnigan, Rev. A. P., Hempstead, L. I. Catholic. Alienated a wife’s affections. 1908. Dunworth, Rev. Wm., New London, Conn. Catholic. Suicide. 1900. Duperon, Rev. Fr., Worcester, Mass. Catholic. Deceiver and swindler. Dwello, Rev. P. N., Marshalltown, Ia. Methodist. Slander and libel. 1911. Dwindle, Dr. O. T., Peoria, Ill. Methodist. Misappropriated funds of the church. 1901. Dye, Rev. Geo. E., Willows, Cal. Baptist. Intimacy with widow; resigned….

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Excerpt #2, from Notes from the Underground, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

…mortal insults, these jeers on the part of someone unknown, end at last in an enjoyment which sometimes reaches the highest degree of voluptuousness. I ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans of an educated man of the nineteenth century suffering from toothache, on the second or third day of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned on the first day, that is, not simply because he has toothache, not just as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and European civilisation, a man who is “divorced from the soil and the national elements,” as they express it now-a-days. His moans become nasty, disgustingly malignant, and go on for whole days and nights. And of course he knows himself that he is doing himself no sort of good with his moans; he knows better than anyone that he is only lacerating and harassing himself and others for nothing; he knows that even the audience before whom he is making his efforts, and his whole family, listen to him with loathing, do not put a ha’porth of faith in him, and inwardly understand that he might moan differently, more simply, without trills and flourishes, and that he is only amusing himself like that from ill-humour, from malignancy. Well, in all these recognitions and disgraces it is that there lies a voluptuous pleasure. As though he would say: “I am worrying you, I am lacerating your hearts, I am keeping everyone in the house awake. Well, stay awake…

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Excerpt #3, from The Iliad, by Homer

…Required his arm, he sorrow’d unredress’d. Large gifts they promise, and their elders send; In vain—he arms not, but permits his friend His arms, his steeds, his forces to employ: He marches, combats, almost conquers Troy: Then slain by Phœbus (Hector had the name) At once resigns his armour, life, and fame. But thou, in pity, by my prayer be won: Grace with immortal arms this short-lived son, And to the field in martial pomp restore, To shine with glory, till he shines no more!” To her the artist-god: “Thy griefs resign, Secure, what Vulcan can, is ever thine. O could I hide him from the Fates, as well, Or with these hands the cruel stroke repel, As I shall forge most envied arms, the gaze Of wondering ages, and the world’s amaze!” Thus having said, the father of the fires To the black labours of his forge retires. Soon as he bade them blow, the bellows turn’d Their iron mouths; and where the furnace burn’d,…

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Excerpt #4, from Trouble on Titan, by Henry Kuttner

…rusty. “Salvage,” Sherman said. He went to a corner, dropped Quade into a shallow depression in the floor and tossed his whip aside. Quade’s body sank down a few inches, as though into an air mattress. “Well, take off your helmet,” Sherman said coolly. “Make yourself at home. You’ll be here for life—since there’s no way of getting out of this valley!” CHAPTER V Perilous Valley Kathleen sat down limply on a rusty chair that squeaked under her weight. Her fingers felt cold and clumsy as she unscrewed her helmet, deflated the spacesuit and shook her hair free. “No way out?” she said. “We could climb—” “You could try it,” Sherman said, “till you got tired. The glaciers wall us in. And they crumble. I broke my arm six years ago trying to escape.” “Six years!” “I’ve been here seven,” Sherman told her. “I’m the last survivor of the patrol ship Kestrel, wrecked while making a forced landing in the Devil’s Range. Three of us escaped with our lives from the crash—the ship’s doctor, myself and another patrolman. Their graves are down the valley a bit.” His eyes were blank….

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Excerpt #5, from You no longer count, by René Boylesve

…“It’s frightful, frightful,” exclaimed Odette. She had seen and nursed most grievously wounded soldiers; but unconsciously a sort of convention had been established in her mind by which nothing that she saw, or that happened in the hospital at Surville, should move her. This first result of the war which had faced her elsewhere than at Surville, and under another aspect, impressed her almost intolerably. On the other hand, Simone had become accustomed to the dramatic scenes which at times occur in Paris, where everything is perhaps all the more sad because the war drama is close at hand, aping normal life. This juxtaposition of the manners of a time of peace and these shadows of the pit which mingle with the life of every day, more like a prolonged dream than like reality, produce surprising effects upon reflective minds. Simone de Prans, who for a time had taken up work in a model hospital, an American hospital, was no longer a nurse. That was no longer done. “What about our good Rose?” asked Odette. "Rose Misson has arranged her life. She has resolved not to yield to things; she has been too much teased about her old husband, always going about in his automobile. Neither Rose nor her husband is disturbed by that; he remains on his seat; she dresses, visits the shops as in former times and receives the few friends who are not indignant because her…

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Excerpt #6, from Norman Ten Hundred, by A. Stanley Blicq

…been married a year, chewin’ each others ‘ead orf. Come yere an’ give me a ’and, Stumpy." And he turned again to the task of clearing a layer of mud from his rifle bolt with a grimy piece of rag an inch square. There is a refreshing originality (sic) in the al fresco meals partaken of in the fresh open air, in a comfortable trench–so comfortable that legs are twelve inches too long, knees in the way of your chin, and somebody’s boots making doormats of your tiny bit of cheese. Water and tea–when you get it–has a most uncommon flavour of petrol due to being transported in petrol cans. Stumpy was of the opinion that the War Office should be advised to utilise rum jars instead. Fritz has a gentlemanly knack of dropping a shell near you and depositing a mighty chunk of black filth in the very midst of your grub. Resultant language unprintable. Slight falls of snow began to take place, the wind increased and nights in the trenches became one long vista of drawn-out agony. Hands and feet froze; maintain circulation was an absolute physical impossibility: but it had to be faced through the long, over long, hours of waiting, and there was no alternative, no remedy. You suffered, Royal Guernseys, men of a warm, sunny isle, who had not hitherto known the harsh winter of miles inland spots. But you stuck it well, rifle grasped in a hand gone stiff, face cut and blistered from the fierce wind; feet aching with…

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Excerpt #7, from Ivanhoe: A Romance, by Walter Scott

…and perhaps his nocturnal potations, prevented from recognising accents which were tolerably familiar to him—“Wend on your way, in the name of God and Saint Dunstan, and disturb not the devotions of me and my holy brother.” “Mad priest,” answered the voice from without, “open to Locksley!” “All’s safe—all’s right,” said the hermit to his companion. “But who is he?” said the Black Knight; “it imports me much to know.” “Who is he?” answered the hermit; “I tell thee he is a friend.” “But what friend?” answered the knight; “for he may be friend to thee and none of mine?” “What friend?” replied the hermit; “that, now, is one of the questions that is more easily asked than answered. What friend?—why, he is, now that I bethink me a little, the very same honest keeper I told thee of a while since.” “Ay, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious hermit,” replied the knight, “I doubt it not. But undo the door to him before he beat it from its hinges.” The dogs, in the meantime, which had made a dreadful baying at the commencement of the disturbance, seemed now to recognise the voice of him who stood without; for, totally changing their manner, they scratched and whined at the door, as if interceding for his admission….

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Excerpt #8, from Ox Team Days on the Oregon Trail, by Howard R. Driggs and Ezra Meeker

…left for cattle. In fact, the run on provisions for the gold rush was so great that at one time we were almost threatened with famine. Finally our cattle, mostly cows, were loaded in an open scow and taken in tow alongside the steamer, the Sea Bird, I think it was. [Illustration: A “shaker” used to wash out gold.] All went well enough until we arrived off the head of Whidby Island. Here a choppy sea from a light wind began slopping over the scow and evidently would sink us despite our utmost efforts at bailing. When the captain would slow down the speed of his steamer, all was well; but the moment greater power was applied, over the gunwales would come the water. The dialogue that ensued between the captain and me was more emphatic than elegant. He dared not risk letting go of us, however, or of running us under, for fear of incurring the risk of heavy damages. I would not consent to be landed. So about the twentieth of June we were set adrift in Bellingham Bay and, tired and sleepy, landed on the beach. Our cows must have feed, they must be milked, the milk must be marketed. There was no rest for us during another thirty-six hours. In fact, there was but little sleep for anybody on that beach at the time. Several ocean steamers had just dumped three thousand people on the beach, and there was still a scramble to find a place to build a house or stretch…

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Excerpt #9, from The Submarine Hunters: A Story of the Naval Patrol Work in the Great War

…There were two men engaged in conversation. One was Kapitan Schwalbe; the other, who spoke in a lower key, and so rapidly that Ross had great difficulty in mentally translating his words, was the Lieutenant-Commander of U77. He had been put aboard U75 only a few minutes previously. “My dear von Hoffner,” Kapitan Schwalbe was saying. “Your plan is all very well as far as you are concerned; but where do we come in? Understand that while we are on the surface our risks are increased ten-fold. Suppose, for instance, the battleship does not notice, or affects not to notice, the white flag?” “She will, right enough,” assured the Lieutenant-Commander of U77. “These English are such fools that in their anxiety to observe the rules of warfare” (here von Hoffner laughed sardonically) “they play into our hands. More than a twelvemonth of war has not taught them that the hitherto recognized observances of war are no longer binding. This is not a petty squabble between two nations. It is a struggle for existence; consequently it is where our frightfulness scores.” “It hasn’t up to the present, according to my experience,” objected Kapitan Schwalbe gloomily. “These Englishmen simply won’t be frightened. But to return once more to the point: what steps do you propose to take to minimize my risk?”…

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Excerpt #10, from Investigation of Communist Activities in Seattle, Wash., Area, Hearings, Part 1

…I asked his plans for the future, and his answer is: “To help organize the Pioneers and the Workers Youth Group.” And I asked if there was anything special, and this student answers: “I want to start a sports club, and I wish to play the baritone horn.” (The witness confers with his counsel.) Mr. DENNETT. I have another one here of a little older one who was 21 years of age at that time. Without going through all of the preliminaries, there are certain details here that are of some concern. And this is in that student’s own handwriting. I asked what is the most benefit he received from the class, and his answer is: “Why the present system cannot stand up.” I asked what his understanding of materialist conception of history was, and he said: “Taking a scientific attitude.” I asked him if he understood surplus value, and his answer is: “Is the amount of the value left after the laborer’s wages are paid.” I asked him if he understood the class struggle, and he said: “It is a struggle for the needs of the working class.” I asked for plans for the future, and his answer: “To work on Pioneer–”…

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Excerpt #11, from Familiar Quotations, by John Bartlett

…Laurel and myrtle, groves are of, 803. bough, Apollo’s, 41. greener from the brows, 623. Lavinia, she is, 104. Law and the prophets, 839. and to the testimony, 833. as adversaries do in, 72. but is this, 143. Cantilena of the, 527. crowner’s quest, 143. eleven points in the, 296. ends where tyranny begins, 364. fulfilling of the, 845. good opinion of the, 440. higher than the constitution, 595. ignorance of the, 195. in calmness made, keeps the, 476. is a sort of hocus-pocus, 350. is good, the, 847….

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Excerpt #12, from Cliff Castles and Cave Dwellings of Europe, by S. Baring

…it was found that the inhabitants of a certain district had vanished along with their cattle and goods, leaving behind empty houses and stables. It had been the same during the Thirty Years’ War, and again in the Seven Years’ War, when the invaders found not a living soul, and contented themselves with destroying the crops and burning the villages and farms. Even the Government officials had disappeared. Whither had they gone? Into the rock labyrinths of Adersbach and Wickelsdorf, each accessible only through a single gap closed by a door. The mountain of what the Germans call Quadersandstein is four miles long by two broad, and was at one time an elevated plateau, but is now torn into gullies, forming a tangled skein of ravines, wherein a visitor without a guide might easily lose himself. The existence of this labyrinth was unknown save to the peasants till the year 1824, when a forest fire revealed it, but for some time it remained unexplored. [Footnote: It had indeed been mentioned by Dr. Kausch in his Nachrichten über Böhmen, 1794; but he lamented its inaccessibility.] As Adersbach and Wickelsdorf lie on the frontier of Bohemia and Silesia, the existence of this region of cliffs and natural refuges had been kept secret by the natives, who looked upon it as a secure hiding- place for themselves and their chattels when the storm of war swept over the Riesen Gebirge. But the fatal fire of 1824 betrayed their…

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