Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:40

Excerpt #1, from Leviathan, by Thomas Hobbes

…nerest of his Kin; yet it dependeth on his own will, (as hath been said in the precedent chapter,) who shall be his Heyr. If therefore he will have no Heyre, there is no Soveraignty, nor Subjection. The case is the same, if he dye without known Kindred, and without declaration of his Heyre. For then there can no Heire be known, and consequently no Subjection be due. In Case Of Banishment If the Soveraign Banish his Subject; during the Banishment, he is not Subject. But he that is sent on a message, or hath leave to travell, is still Subject; but it is, by Contract between Soveraigns, not by vertue of the covenant of Subjection. For whosoever entreth into anothers dominion, is Subject to all the Lawes thereof; unless he have a privilege by the amity of the Soveraigns, or by speciall licence. In Case The Soveraign Render Himself Subject To Another If a Monarch subdued by war, render himself Subject to the Victor; his Subjects are delivered from their former obligation, and become obliged to the Victor. But if he be held prisoner, or have not the liberty of his own Body; he is not understood to have given away the Right of Soveraigntie; and therefore his Subjects are obliged to yield obedience to the Magistrates formerly placed, governing not in their own name, but in his. For, his Right remaining, the question is only of the…

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Excerpt #2, from Comic History of the United States, by Bill Nye

…given four years of unexampled prosperity. Yet this experience has not been regarded by the people as it should have been. Other kinds of men have repeatedly been elected to that office, only to bring sorrow, war, debt, and bank-failures upon us. Sometimes it would seem to the thinking mind that, as a people, we need a few car-loads of sense in each school-district, where it can be used at a moment’s notice. [Illustration: BALD-HEADED MEN NOT APPRECIATED.] Adams was not re-elected, on account of his tariff ideas, which were not popular at the South. He was called “The old man eloquent,” and it is said that during his more impassioned passages his head, which was round and extremely smooth, became flushed, so that, from resembling the cue-ball on the start, as he rose to more lofty heights his dome of thought looked more like the spot ball on a billiard-table. No one else in Congress at that time had succeeded in doing this. John Quincy Adams was succeeded in 1829 by Andrew Jackson, the hero of New Orleans. Jackson was the first to introduce what he called “rotation in office.” During the forty years previous there had been but seventy-four removals; Jackson made seven hundred. This custom has been pretty generally adopted since, giving immense satisfaction to those who thrive upon the excitement of offensive partisanship and their wives’ relations, while those who have legitimate employment and pay taxes…

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Excerpt #3, from Santa Fé’s Partner, by Thomas A. Janvier

…the town he made out he belonged to–and let it go at that. Big game was what he said he was looking for: and Santa Fé Charley, with Shorty Smith and others helping, saw to it he got all he wanted and some over–but I reckon the exercises would a-been less spirited if the Sage-Brush Hen hadn’t chipped in and played a full hand. He was one of the sporting kind, Boston was, that turned up frequent in the Territory in them days. Most of ’em was friends of officers at some of the posts, with a sprinkling throwed in of sons and nephews of directors of the road. Big game was what they all made out they come for; and they was apt to have about as much use for big game–when they happened to find any–as a cat has for two tails. But they seemed to enjoy letting off ca’tridges–and used to buy what skins was in the market to take home. Boston turned out to be a nephew–nephews was apt to be worse’n sons for stuck-upness–and he come in one morning in a private car hitched onto the Denver train. He had a colored man along to cook and clean his guns for him–he had more things to shoot with, and of more shapes and sizes, than you ever seen in one place outside of a gun-store–and he was dressed that nice in green corduroys, with new-fangled knives and hunting fixings hanging all over him like he was a Christmas-tree, he might have hired out for a show. He wasn’t a bad set-up young…

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Excerpt #4, from Under the White Ensign: A Naval Story of the Great War, by Percy F. Westerman

…terrific detonation within fifty yards of the Portchester Castle’s starboard quarter. It was near enough to send a shower of spray completely over the ship’s poop, while fragments of metal rattled against her steel sides. Again a shrapnel shell burst overhead, but so far from the target that Osborne involuntarily exclaimed, “Rotten shot”; but, the instant after, “anti No. 2” succeeded in making the aeroplane side-slip for nearly a hundred feet before it recovered and circled in order to regain a favourable position for dropping more explosives. Instinctively Tom Webb edged nearer the chart-house, but only for a moment. Captain M’Bride and Lieutenant Osborne were standing rigid and apparently unconscious of the danger. Their example, coupled with the fact that if the bomb did hit the bridge there would not be sufficient fragments of the chart-house to fill a pint measure, steadied the Sub’s nerves. Many a time he had been in danger of being blown sky-high by mine or torpedo. He had grown used to such perils; but the unprecedented possibility of being pulverized by an enemy that could be seen had been responsible for his unpremeditated effort to gain a useless shelter. Meanwhile the Portchester Castle, having been given the fullest use of the helm, was swinging to port. As she did so, the second bomb…

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Excerpt #5, from Memories and Adventures, by Arthur Conan Doyle

…The points I mention are taken from the paper I laid before the law officers of the Crown, which lies before me as I write, so the facts are exactly as stated. I had one letter in sorrow and also in anger from the Staffordshire police complaining that I should be libelling this poor young man whose identity could easily be established. I do not know what has become of “X” or how often he has been convicted since, but on the last occasion of which I have notes the magistrate said in condemning him to six months’ imprisonment with hard labour: “His character was extremely bad, he having been convicted of arson, of stealing on three occasions and of damage. On his own confession he had committed a deliberate and cruel theft from his aged mother and it was impossible to overlook the seriousness of the case.” So much for the inoffensive youth whom I had libelled! But what about Edalji’s three years of gaol? On September 18, 1907, I married Miss Jean Leckie, the younger daughter of a Blackheath family whom I had known for years, and who was a dear friend of my mother and sister. There are some things which one feels too intimately to be able to express, and I can only say that the years have passed without one shadow coming to mar even for a moment the sunshine of my Indian summer which now deepens to a golden autumn. She…

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Excerpt #6, from Mr. Punch’s History of the Great War, by Charles L. Graves

…For butter or for worse. It is reported that the Government’s standard suits for men’s wear will soon be available. One is occasionally tempted to hope that women’s costumes might be similarly standardised. [Illustration: THE COAT THAT DIDN’T COME OFF] The German Press announces the death of the notorious “Captain of Koepenick,” and the Cologne Gazette refers to him as “the only man who ever succeeded in making the German Army look ridiculous.” This is the kind of subtle flattery that the Hohenzollerns really appreciate. April, 1918. We have reached the darkest hours of the War and the clouds have not yet lifted, though the rate of the German advance has already begun to slow down. On the 11th the enemy broke through at Armentières and pushed their advantage till another wedge was driven into the British line. On the 12th Sir Douglas Haig issued his historic order: “With our backs to the wall, and believing in the justice of our cause, each one of us must fight to the end. The safety of our homes and the freedom of mankind depend alike upon the conduct of each one of us at the critical moment.” The Amiens line being under fire, it was impossible to bring French reinforcements north in time to save Kemmel Hill and stave off the menace to the Channel ports. The tale of our losses is grievous, and for thousands and thousands of families…

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Excerpt #7, from The Aztec Treasure

…I tried afterwards to measure it, and found that for craniological purposes it was utterly valueless. Even had I required Pablo’s aid in this encounter he could not possibly have given it to me, for he was himself just then very hotly engaged. Indeed, but for assistance that come to him from an unexpected quarter his life assuredly would have been lost. He was in the act of hauling back to strike at the fellow facing him, and he did not at all know that he was in imminent danger of a thrust in the back from a wounded wretch who, having struggled upon his knees, was using what little life was left in him to deliver yet another blow. Just at this critical instant it was that Fray Antonio dashed into the thick of the fighting, and covered Pablo’s body with his own against this assault in the rear; so that, as the Indian struck, the knife only cut through the monk’s habit and slightly scratched his arm, instead of making a hole between Pablo’s shoulder-blades that would have let the life out of him. Young, who was close beside Pablo, saw what was going on, and checked it before further harm was done by turning quickly and shooting off the top of the wounded Indian’s head; and then Fray Antonio retired out of the fighting in which, without himself striking a blow, he had taken so gallant a part. So far as I was concerned, the fight was at an end when I had so cleverly mashed the head of my second assailant. No more Indians came at…

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Excerpt #8, from The Anabasis of Alexander, by Arrian

…but Alexander won the victory with ease. Ptolemy’s men did not range themselves on the level ground, for the barbarians were occupying a hill. Wherefore Ptolemy, forming his battalions into column, led them to the point where the hill seemed most easily assailable, not surrounding it entirely, but leaving room for the barbarians to flee if they were inclined to do so. A sharp contest also ensued with these men, both from the difficult nature of the ground, and because the Indians are not like the other barbarians of this district, but are far stronger than their neighbours. These men also were driven away from the mountain by the Macedonians. In the same way did Leonnatus with the third division of the army; for his men also defeated those opposed to them. Ptolemy indeed says that all the men were captured, to a number exceeding 40,000, and that 230,000 oxen were also taken, of which Alexander picked out the finest, because they seemed to him to excel both in beauty and size, wishing to send them into Macedonia to till the soil. Thence he marched towards the land of the Assacenians; for he received news that these people had made preparations to fight him, having 20,000 cavalry, more than 30,000 infantry, and 30 elephants. When Craterus had thoroughly fortified the city, for the founding of which he had been left behind, he brought the heavier armed men of his army for Alexander as well as the military engines, in case…

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Excerpt #9, from The School for Scandal, by Richard Brinsley Sheridan

…SIR PETER. Indeed! LADY TEAZLE. Aye–and when my cousin Sophy has called you a stiff peevish old batchelor and laugh’d at me for thinking of marrying one who might be my Father–I have always defended you–and said I didn’t think you so ugly by any means, and that you’d make a very good sort of a husband– SIR PETER. And you prophesied right–and we shall certainly now be the happiest couple—- LADY TEAZLE. And never differ again. SIR PETER. No never–tho’ at the same time indeed–my dear Lady Teazle–you must watch your Temper very narrowly–for in all our little Quarrels–my dear–if you recollect my Love you always began first– LADY TEAZLE. I beg your Pardon–my dear Sir Peter–indeed–you always gave the provocation. SIR PETER. Now–see, my Love take care–contradicting isn’t the way to keep Friends. LADY TEAZLE. Then don’t you begin it my Love! SIR PETER. There now–you are going on–you don’t perceive[,] my Life, that you are just doing the very thing my Love which you know always makes me angry. LADY TEAZLE. Nay–you know if you will be angry without any reason–my…

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Excerpt #10, from The power and the glory, by Henry Kuttner

…a hundred feet above the crag-bordered stream at the cliffs bottom! Panic struck him. Then Tsi’s reassuring thought said, “You are safe. This is teleportation.” He scarcely heard. An age-old instinctive fear chilled his middle. For a million years men have been afraid of falling. He could not now control that fear. Slowly he began to drop. He lost sight of Tsi and the golden trees and then of the water-wall. Under him the stream broadened. He sank down at an angle—and felt solid ground beneath his feet. There was silence except for the whispering murmur of the stream. CHAPTER III The World That Couldn’t Be Miller sat down on a rock and held his head in his hands. His thoughts were swimming. Cold, fresh air blew against his cheeks and he raised his face to meet that satisfying chill. It seemed to rouse him. He began to realize that he had been half asleep during the interview with Tsi, as though the mists of his slumber had still blanketed his senses. Otherwise he would scarcely have accepted this miraculous business. Or was there another reason? He felt a desperate impulse to see Tsi again. She could answer his…

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Excerpt #11, from Don Juan, by Baron George Gordon Byron Byron

…’Twas white and indistinct, nor stopp’d to meet Her glance nor grasp, for still she gazed, and grasp’d, And ran, but it escaped her as she clasp’d. The dream changed:—in a cave she stood, its walls Were hung with marble icicles, the work Of ages on its water-fretted halls, Where waves might wash, and seals might breed and lurk; Her hair was dripping, and the very balls Of her black eyes seem’d turn’d to tears, and mirk The sharp rocks look’d below each drop they caught, Which froze to marble as it fell,—she thought. And wet, and cold, and lifeless at her feet, Pale as the foam that froth’d on his dead brow, Which she essay’d in vain to clear (how sweet Were once her cares, how idle seem’d they now!), Lay Juan, nor could aught renew the beat Of his quench’d heart; and the sea dirges low Rang in her sad ears like a mermaid’s song, And that brief dream appear’d a life too long. And gazing on the dead, she thought his face Faded, or alter’d into something new—…

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Excerpt #12, from A Journey to the Centre of the Earth, by Jules Verne

…back." These words were spoken to myself. They could not be heard aloud. Nevertheless, after the first few moments of terror were over, I was ashamed of my suspicions against a man who hitherto had behaved so admirably. Nothing in his conduct or character justified suspicion. Moreover, a moment’s reflection reassured me. His departure could not be a flight. Instead of ascending the gallery, he was going deeper down into the gulf. Had he had any bad design, his way would have been upwards. This reasoning calmed me a little and I began to hope! The good, and peaceful, and imperturbable Hans would certainly not have arisen from his sleep without some serious and grave motive. Was he bent on a voyage of discovery? During the deep, still silence of the night had he at last heard that sweet murmur about which we were all so anxious? CHAPTER 20 WATER, WHERE IS IT? A BITTER DISAPPOINTMENT During a long, long, weary hour, there crossed my wildly delirious brain all sorts of reasons as to what could have aroused our quiet and faithful guide. The most absurd and ridiculous ideas passed through my head, each more impossible than the other. I believe I was either half…

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