Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:03

Excerpt #1, from The Blue Raider: A Tale of Adventure in the Southern Seas, by Herbert Strang

…of the moon that he saw little of the native ceremony. There was drumming and dancing; at one moment the chief, followed by a group of his men, marched solemnly to the wreck, and after tramping seven times round the broken mast, descended to the cabin. On his return he was welcomed with a frenzied shout. Then fires were lighted under the cooking-pots, the dance was kept up until the viands were ready, and the feast was prolonged until the moon had travelled half-way round the sky. Satiated, the natives flung themselves on the sand and slept. ’Well, sir,’ said Grinson, sitting beside Hoole, close under the cliffs, ’all I can say is, it’s a wonder to me how they could stow away so much boiled pork without mustard or a pint of beer.’ Morning dawned. Hoole had the seaplane carried down to the sea. The tide was rising; the sea was choppy; waves of considerable size were breaking on the beach. ’I hope she ’s seaworthy, sir,’ said Grinson, eyeing the machine anxiously. ’That we ’ll soon discover,’ replied Hoole. ’You know what you have to do. When I ’ve pumped up and sucked in, you ’ll give the propeller half a dozen turns; then I ’ll switch on, and you ’ll skip away, or you ’ll get a dose like the medicine-man.’ The whole body of natives was lined up on the beach, watching the white…

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Excerpt #2, from A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens

…“Good God!” he said, with a start. “What’s that?” Miss Pross, with a terrified face, was at his ear. “O me, O me! All is lost!” cried she, wringing her hands. “What is to be told to Ladybird? He doesn’t know me, and is making shoes!” Mr. Lorry said what he could to calm her, and went himself into the Doctor’s room. The bench was turned towards the light, as it had been when he had seen the shoemaker at his work before, and his head was bent down, and he was very busy. “Doctor Manette. My dear friend, Doctor Manette!” The Doctor looked at him for a moment–half inquiringly, half as if he were angry at being spoken to–and bent over his work again. He had laid aside his coat and waistcoat; his shirt was open at the throat, as it used to be when he did that work; and even the old haggard, faded surface of face had come back to him. He worked hard–impatiently–as if in some sense of having been interrupted. Mr. Lorry glanced at the work in his hand, and observed that it was a shoe of the old size and shape. He took up another that was lying by him, and asked what it was. “A young lady’s walking shoe,” he muttered, without looking up. “It ought to have been finished long ago. Let it be.” “But, Doctor Manette. Look at me!”…

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Excerpt #3, from The Handy Cyclopedia of Things Worth Knowing, by Joseph Triemens

…Main Landing Wheels–In an alighting gear, the wheels that take the chief shock in landing. Ornithopter–A dynamic flying machine of the heavier-than-air type, in which sustension is provided by the effect of reciprocating wing surfaces. Pylon–A tower to mark the course in aerial racing contests. Ribs–Supports for the fabric, made of ash or spruce and bent to the correct curves. Rudder–One or more steering planes are invariably fitted to practical machines to control the direction of flight. Superposed Planes–Arrangement of one plane over the other, as in the Wright, Voisin and Farman machines. Supplementary Planes (or surfaces)–Additional surfaces which are used for stabilization. Stabilizer–Any surface for automatically maintaining lateral or longitudinal balance. Struts–Fixtures used in biplane construction to maintain an equal distance between two planes. Skids–Long skates on which the machine can land in safety. Span–The distance from tip to tip of the main planes in a transverse direction to that of flight….

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Excerpt #4, from Nick Carter Stories No. 143, June 5, 1915: The sultan’s pearls; or, Nick

…THE SLIPPERY APACHE. The words were hardly out of the detective’s mouth, when the Cuban, with a snarl of rage, tore the cigar from Nick’s teeth and pressed the burning end upon the bare hand of his captor. There were few things that would have made Nick Carter loosen his hold. The exquisite pain of the burning cigar was one of them, however. Anybody who ever has been hurt in this way can testify that the red-hot ash sticks to the flesh in a cruel fashion, causing excruciating agony. As Nick took away one hand, John Garrison Rayne pulled the other loose. Then, hissing defiance between his set teeth, he dragged a long knife from inside his coat and aimed a blow at the detective’s heart. Nick Carter was unable to ward off the blow entirely, but it only cut a long slit in his sleeve. The next moment he had seized the rascal around the waist and slammed him down upon the table by his side. The table never was meant to stand such a shock. Down it went, in a muddle of broken legs and splintered top, with the Cuban and Nick in the ruins, for the Cuban had pulled his assailant down with him. “Thieves!” roared the Cuban. “Look out! Grab him before he can get away!” Four big men piled on top of Nick behind, and, under their combined weight, down he went, flat upon the floor, while the cunning rascal,…

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Excerpt #5, from The Pursuit of the House Boat, by John Kendrick Bangs

…“That piracy on the sea is not profitable in these days of the check banking system,” said Kidd. “If you can get a chance at real gold it’s all right, but it’s of no earthly use to steal checks that people can stop payment on. Therefore it was my plan to visit the cities and do a little freebooting there, where solid material wealth is to be found.” “Well? Can’t we do it now?” asked Abeuchapeta. “Not with these women tagging after us,” returned Kidd. “If we went to London and lifted the whole Bank of England, these women would have it spent on Regent Street inside of twenty-four hours.” “Then leave them on board,” said Abeuchapeta. “And have them steal the ship!” retorted Kidd. “No. There are but two things to do. Take ’em back, or land them in Paris. Tell them to spend a week on shore while we are provisioning. Tell ’em to shop to their hearts’ content, and while they are doing it we can sneak off and leave them stranded.” “Splendid!” cried Morgan. “But will they consent?” asked Abeuchapeta. “Consent! To shop? In Paris? For a week?” cried Morgan. “Ha, ha!” laughed Hawkins. “Will they consent! Will a duck swim?” And so it was decided, which was the first incident in the career of the House-boat upon which the astute Mr. Sherlock Holmes had failed to count….

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Excerpt #6, from Privateering and Piracy in the Colonial Period, by J. Franklin Jameson

…turned Spaniard, 3 Spaniard Slaves and one Negro. Upon Examination John Everigin,[41a] one of the prisoners, declared that he had been taken some time in April last by Don Pedro Estrado[42] Capt. of the Privateer that had taken this Sloop, and that he forced him to List[43] with them and to pilott their Vessell on the Coast of N. Carolina and that then they took this Sloop att Obricock, July 5th, also 2 more Sloops and a Ship Loaded with Lumber bound to So. Carolina, that the Capt. of the privateer put him on Board with the french Master to Navigate the Vessell to Augustine with another Englishman, Saml. Elderedge, and that they were making the best of their way to that place. We Sent Our Master on board to fetch all the papers and bring the prisoners as above mentioned. the papers are as follows with some other things brought on board, Viz. [Footnote 41: Ocracoke Inlet.] [Footnote 41a: See note 62, below.] [Footnote 42: Don Pedro de Estrada is mentioned as an exceptionally able privateering captain, in 1742, by the captain-general of Cuba and by the chief engineer at St. Augustine. Collections of the Georgia Historical Society, VII., pt. 3, pp. 29, 59, 61-63. Wright, Oglethorpe, p. 283, speaks of his vessel as "a notorious privateer called the ‘Black Sloop’, commanded by Destrade, a French officer who…

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Excerpt #7, from Twenty years at sea: Leaves from my old log

…adobe houses we saw before us. Our cargo out, we took in a sufficient quantity of sand ballast, and in June sailed for Manila. Within a week after getting off the coast of California, we struck the southeast trades, and had a most delightful run across the Pacific Ocean, the wind scarcely varying a couple of points for six weeks, when we sighted Guam, one of the Ladrone Islands. As scurvy had made its appearance among our crew, Captain Arthur decided to anchor and lay in a supply of fruit and vegetables. The natives soon came off to us with quantities of limes, yams, and cocoanuts, which they gladly exchanged for any articles of hardware we could spare. The following day we got under weigh and stood to the westward for the Straits of St. Bernardino. At midnight breakers were seen close on the weather bow. We wore ship instantly to the eastward and hauled close on the wind for an hour and a quarter, the wind not permitting us to lay better than east half south. At 1.45 A. M. we tacked to the southward, and hoped to weather this reef, which we had not found set down on our chart; but at 3.15 breakers were again seen on the weather bow too near to allow us to tack. We accordingly wore, and when before the wind the ship struck under the forefoot and remained stationary. The wind was S. S. E., and fortunately the water was as smooth as a…

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Excerpt #8, from Seven O’Clock Stories, by Robert Gordon Anderson

…under his clothes. And though he was only twelve he had two chins. Every once in a while he would eat so much that a button would pop off. He was eating apples now. One, two, three, four, five, he ate. He did not offer one to his friends, not even the core! Another apple he took. That made six! Pop went a button and–splash–it landed in a puddle of brown water. For three days it had rained, washing the white snow away. The ruts in the road were full of these puddles, nice and brown and inviting. Sammy’s eyes and Jehosophat’s eyes followed the button as it landed in the water, making little rings which grew larger all the time. “Let’s slosh,” said Sammy. “Let’s!” cried Lizzie Fizzletree, “it’s lots of fun, sloshin’.” Into a big puddle marched Sammy Soapstone, and after him marched Lizzie and Sophy, and at the end of the procession waddled Fatty. “Slop, slosh, slop, slosh,” they went through puddle after puddle. Glorious fun it was. Showers of spray flew all over the road. But Jehosophat walked on ahead in the middle of the road. Hadn’t his mother told him, particularly, not to get his feet wet? “Come on in, it’s fine!” they all shouted at Jehosophat. “Aw, come on!” Sammy Soapstone repeated, and Fatty called:…

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Excerpt #9, from The Reign of Greed, by José Rizal

…at all." “Maria Clara!” exclaimed Basilio. “Yes, Maria Clara,” repeated Simoun, and for the first time his voice became human and compassionate. “I want to save her; to save her I have wished to live, I have returned. I am starting the revolution, because only a revolution can open the doors of the nunneries.” “Ay!” sighed Basilio, clasping his hands. “You’ve come late, too late!” “Why?” inquired Simoun with a frown. “Maria Clara is dead!” Simoun arose with a bound and stood over the youth. “She’s dead?” he demanded in a terrible voice. “This afternoon, at six. By now she must be–” “It’s a lie!” roared Simoun, pale and beside himself. “It’s false! Maria Clara lives, Maria Clara must live! It’s a cowardly excuse! She’s not dead, and this night I’ll free her or tomorrow you die!” Basilio shrugged his shoulders. "Several days ago she was taken ill and I went to the nunnery for news of her. Look, here is Padre Salvi’s letter, brought by Padre Irene. Capitan Tiago wept all the evening, kissing his daughter’s picture and begging her forgiveness, until at last he smoked an enormous quantity of opium. This evening her knell…

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Excerpt #10, from The Best British Short Stories of 1922, by Stacy Aumonier et al.

…Miss Deane, however, was faintly simpering. “I have been told that I’ve changed very little,” she said; and Rachel suppressed a sigh of impatience at the reflection that she was expected to play up to this absurd fantasy. “Of course, I can’t judge of that,” she said, “as we met for the first time five minutes ago.” “No, no, you can’t judge of that,” her aunt replied, with the half-bashful emphasis of one who awaits a compliment. Rachel decided to plunge. “But you do look extraordinarily young for your age still,” she lied desperately. Miss Deane straightened her back and toyed with a teaspoon. “I have always taken great care of myself,” she said. Unquestionably she believed it, Rachel decided. This was no pose, but a horrible piece of self-deception. This raddled, repulsive creature had actually persuaded herself into the delusion that she still had the appearance of a young girl. Heaven help her if that delusion were ever shattered! Yet outside this one obsession Miss Deane, as Rachel soon discovered, had a clear and well-balanced mind. For, now that she had received her desired assurance from this new quarter, she began to talk of other things. Her boasted “modernism,” it is true, had a smack of the stiff,…

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Excerpt #11, from Something New, by P. G. Wodehouse

…nothing the English upper servant so abhors as vulgarity. That was what the steward’s room was trying to make up its mind about. Then Miss Willoughby threw her shapely head back and the squeal of her laughter smote the ceiling. And at that the company made its decision. Everybody laughed. Everybody urged Ashe to give an encore. Everybody was his friend and admirer—everybody but Beach, the butler. Beach, the butler, was shocked to his very core. His heavy-lidded eyes rested on Ashe with disapproval. It seemed to Beach, the butler, that this young man Marson had got above himself. * * * Ashe found Joan at his side. Dinner was over and the diners were making for the housekeeper’s room. “Thank you, Mr. Marson. That was very good of you and very clever.” Her eyes twinkled. “But what a terrible chance you took! You have made yourself a popular success, but you might just as easily have become a social outcast. As it is, I am afraid Mr. Beach did not approve.” “I’m afraid he didn’t. In a minute or so I’m going to fawn on him and make all well.” Joan lowered her voice….

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Excerpt #12, from A Parody Outline of History, by Donald Ogden Stewart

…in its all-consuming appeal. No, life to his father was a simple problem in army ethics–a problem in which duty was “a”, one of the known factors; “x,” the unknown, was either “bravery” or “cowardice” when brought in contact with “a”. Having solved this problem, his father had closed the book; of the higher mathematics, and especially of those complex problems to which no living man knew the final answer, he had no conception. And yet—- Philip resumed his reading to avoid the old endless maze of subtleties. “It is not that I did not–or do not–love you. It is, rather, that something within me is crying out–something which is stronger than I, and which I cannot resist. I have waited two years to be sure. Yesterday, as soon as I reached here, I took my work to the man who is considered the finest art critic in Paris. He told me that there was a quality to my painting which he had seen in that of no living artist; he told me that in five years of hard work I should be able to produce work which Botticelli would be proud to have done. Do you understand that, Mary–Botticelli!”But no, forgive me. My paean of joy comes strangely in a letter which should be of abject humility for what must seem to you, to father, and to all, a cowardly, selfish act of desertion–a whining failure to face life. Oh dear, dear Mary if you could but understand what a hell I have…

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