Quick Excerpts, from a Library of 492 Titles

Generated 2022-07-28 13:26:42

Excerpt #1, from Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll

…down there? They can’t be bees—nobody ever saw bees a mile off, you know—” and for some time she stood silent, watching one of them that was bustling about among the flowers, poking its proboscis into them, “just as if it was a regular bee,” thought Alice. However, this was anything but a regular bee: in fact it was an elephant—as Alice soon found out, though the idea quite took her breath away at first. “And what enormous flowers they must be!” was her next idea. “Something like cottages with the roofs taken off, and stalks put to them—and what quantities of honey they must make! I think I’ll go down and—no, I won’t just yet,” she went on, checking herself just as she was beginning to run down the hill, and trying to find some excuse for turning shy so suddenly. “It’ll never do to go down among them without a good long branch to brush them away—and what fun it’ll be when they ask me how I like my walk. I shall say—‘Oh, I like it well enough—’” (here came the favourite little toss of the head), “‘only it was so dusty and hot, and the elephants did tease so!’” “I think I’ll go down the other way,” she said after a pause: “and perhaps I may visit the elephants later on. Besides, I do so want to get into the Third Square!” So with this excuse she ran down the hill and jumped over the first of the six little brooks….

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #2, from Uncle Wiggily’s Travels, by Howard Roger Garis

…was going down behind the clouds, all red and golden and violet colored, he saw a little house built of green leaves. “Ha!” exclaimed Uncle Wiggily. “That is a very fine house. I wish I had one like it in which to stay to-night. But it’s too small for me. I guess I’ll have to keep on and look for a haystack under which to crawl.” Well, just as he said that, all of a sudden there was a little rustling, scratching noise, and a bug came to the door of the queer little green leaf house. The bug had a broom and she began sweeping off the front porch and then she knocked the dirt out of the doormat, and then she swept some cobwebs off the shutters and then she hurried out and swept off the sidewalk, all so quickly that you could scarcely see her move. “My, but she is a fast worker,” said Uncle Wiggily. “She is almost as quick as Jennie Chipmunk.” “I have to be!” exclaimed the bug, for the old gentleman rabbit had spoken out loud without thinking, and the bug had heard him. “I have to hustle around,” she said, “for I am the busy bug, and I have to keep busy. I work from morning to night to keep my house in order. Now excuse me; I have to go in and dust the piano,” and she was just going to run in the house, when Uncle Wiggily said: “Do you happen to know of a place where I can stay to-night?” “Why, yes,” said the busy bug. "Next door is a house where Mr. Groundhog…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #3, from Argonaut stories, by Jerome Hart

…in the fifth or sixth row of those who stood round Sam Lee was Wau Shun, watching the blood that welled from the mouth of the dying man and prevented speech. After Wau Shun had seen the corpse of his brother-highbinder laid out on a slab at the morgue, he treated himself to a couple of jorums of “hot-Scotch,” and sought his den in Cum Cook Alley. Lighting a dim candle, he proceeded to barricade himself, and to conceal his light, by means of a coverlet that was held in its place, on his side of the door, by iron bars that crossed and recrossed each other. When all was snug, he drew from an inner pocket the roll of papers given to him by Lee Toy, which set forth the names of the several highbinders who belonged to his “tong,” the various loppings accomplished by their “hatchets,” and, in a special supplement, the instigations to certain notorious crimes by their master-mind, Quong Lung. Lighting a brazier, he tore out his own record from the writing, and committed it to the flames. But that which related to Quong Lung he placed in a receptacle cunningly concealed in the threshold of the door. Then, extinguishing his light, he sallied forth with the rest of Lee…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #4, from The King James Version of the Bible

…2:12 Then sat Solomon upon the throne of David his father; and his kingdom was established greatly. 2:13 And Adonijah the son of Haggith came to Bathsheba the mother of Solomon. And she said, Comest thou peaceably? And he said, Peaceably. 2:14 He said moreover, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And she said, Say on. 2:15 And he said, Thou knowest that the kingdom was mine, and that all Israel set their faces on me, that I should reign: howbeit the kingdom is turned about, and is become my brother’s: for it was his from the LORD. 2:16 And now I ask one petition of thee, deny me not. And she said unto him, Say on. 2:17 And he said, Speak, I pray thee, unto Solomon the king, (for he will not say thee nay,) that he give me Abishag the Shunammite to wife. 2:18 And Bathsheba said, Well; I will speak for thee unto the king. 2:19 Bathsheba therefore went unto king Solomon, to speak unto him for Adonijah. And the king rose up to meet her, and bowed himself unto her, and sat down on his throne, and caused a seat to be set for the king’s mother; and she sat on his right hand. 2:20 Then she said, I desire one small petition of thee; I pray thee,…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #5, from Popular Tales from the Norse, by Asbjørnsen, Moe, and Dasent

…into the wood, and lay down to sleep. Meantime Buttercup set to work and cut a hole in the sack with his knife; then he crept out and put a great root of a fir-tree into the sack, and ran home to his mother. When the hag got home and saw what there was in the sack, you may fancy she was in a fine rage. Next day the old wife sat and baked again, and her dog began to bark just as he did the day before. “Run out, Buttercup, my boy”, said she, “and see what Goldtooth is barking at.” “Well, I never!” cried Buttercup, as soon as he got out; “if there isn’t that ugly old beast coming again with her head under her arm, and a great sack at her back.” “Under the kneading-trough with you and hide”, said his mother. “Good day!” said the hag, “is your Buttercup at home to-day?” “I’m sorry to say he isn’t”, said his mother; “he’s out in the wood with his father, shooting ptarmigan.” “What a bore”, said the hag; “here I have a beautiful little silver spoon I want to give him.” “Pip, pip! here I am”, said Buttercup, and crept out. “I’m so stiff in the back”, said the old witch, “you must creep into the sack and fetch it out for yourself.”…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #6, from An Account of Egypt, by Herodotus

…matter as follows:–If the Phenicians did in truth carry away the consecrated women and sold one of them into Libya and the other into Hellas, I suppose that in the country now called Hellas, which was formerly called Pelasgia, this woman was sold into the land of the Thesprotians; and then being a slave there she set up a sanctuary of Zeus under a real oak-tree; as indeed it was natural that being an attendant of the sanctuary of Zeus at Thebes, she should there, in the place to which she had come, have a memory of him; and after this, when she got understanding of the Hellenic tongue, she established an Oracle, and she reported, I suppose, that her sister had been sold in Libya by the same Phenicians by whom she herself had been sold. Moreover, I think that the women were called doves by the people of Dodona for the reason that they were barbarians and because it seemed to them that they uttered voice like birds; but after a time (they say) the dove spoke with human voice, that is when the woman began to speak so that they could understand; but so long as she spoke a Barbarian tongue she seemed to them to be uttering voice like a bird: for if it had been really a dove, how could it speak with human voice? And in saying that the dove was black, they indicate that the woman was Egyptian. The ways of delivering oracles too at Thebes in Egypt and at Dodona closely resemble each other, as it happens, and also the method of divination by victims…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #7, from The Iliad of Homer (1873), by Homer

…to the ground; and Meriones, stooping, lifted them from the plain in his own hands, and addressed Idomeneus: “Lash on, now, until thou reach the swift ships; for even thou thyself perceivest that victory is no longer on the side of the Achæans.” Footnote 565: (return) Ἐπιλίγδην, on the surface, δι’ ἐπιπολῆς·—Kennedy. Thus he spake; and Idomeneus lashed on the beautiful-maned steeds to the hollow ships; for fear now seized his mind. Nor did Jove escape notice of magnanimous Ajax and Menelaus, when he for the present gave the dubious victory to the Trojans; but to them the mighty Ajax, son of Telamon, began to speak: “Alas! even he who is very stupid might now know that father Jove himself is aiding the Trojans; for the weapons of them all take effect, whoever may throw them, whether coward or brave man. Jove certainly directs them all. But the weapons of all of us fall to the earth in vain. Come, however, let us devise the best plan, both how we may drag off the corse, and how we ourselves may be a source of joy to our beloved comrades, having returned home. They, of a truth, beholding us here, are grieved, and think that we shall no longer resist the might and invincible hands of man-slaughtering Hector. But, would there were some companion who would quickly bring word to Achilles, since I think…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #8, from A Christmas Carol in Prose; Being a Ghost Story of Christmas, by Charles Dickens

…household should; and even the little tailor, whom he had fined five shillings on the previous Monday for being drunk and bloodthirsty in the streets, stirred up to-morrow’s pudding in his garret, while his lean wife and the baby sallied out to buy the beef. Foggier yet, and colder. Piercing, searching, biting cold. If the good Saint Dunstan had but nipped the Evil Spirit’s nose with a touch of such weather as that, instead of using his familiar weapons, then indeed he would have roared to lusty purpose. The owner of one scant young nose, gnawed and mumbled by the hungry cold as bones are gnawed by dogs, stooped down at Scrooge’s keyhole to regale him with a Christmas carol: but at the first sound of “God bless you, merry gentleman! May nothing you dismay!” Scrooge seized the ruler with such energy of action, that the singer fled in terror, leaving the keyhole to the fog and even more congenial frost. At length the hour of shutting up the counting-house arrived. With an ill-will Scrooge dismounted from his…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #9, from Meddler’s Moon, by George O. Smith

…Joan Willson, present because of sheer curiosity pertaining to this Marie Baker creature whom she was prepared to dislike on sight, looked up from her book and drawled: “Oh brilliant repartee. You sound like that Cyril Smith routine that goes ‘Who’s he? Who’s who? Him, the man in the picture. What picture?’ And so forth for about an hour.” Peter smiled. “I suppose,” he said. “But it’s his fault, not mine. This effect is a sort of artificial generation of gravitic force.” Hedgerly nodded. “The first historic discovery that proves the relationship between magnetic phenomena and gravitic force. Now we’re on the right trail,” he concluded. Hedgerly walked over to the small barrette and mixed himself a drink. He lounged back against the bar and lifted his glass. “To my grandfather,” he said, “The discoverer of the Hedgerly Effect!” Peter looked at Joan weakly. “It’s fratricide to kill a brother, patricide to kill a father, homicide to kill just anybody, infanticide to kill your son, but what is it to kill a grandson?” Joan looked Hedgerly up and down and her lip curled in derision. “Insecticide,” she snapped. “Ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away. But Peter, what does this gravitic effect mean?” “I’m not too certain,” replied Peter wrinkling his brow. "Of course, since gravitic fields do act upon mass without charge, we can now…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #10, from At the Earth’s Core, by Edgar Rice Burroughs

…“Then Dian could have found her way directly to her own people?” I asked. “Surely,” replied Ghak, “unless some mighty beast of prey killed her.” I was for making the attempted escape at once, but both Perry and Ghak counseled waiting for some propitious accident which would insure us some small degree of success. I didn’t see what accident could befall a whole community in a land of perpetual daylight where the inhabitants had no fixed habits of sleep. Why, I am sure that some of the Mahars never sleep, while others may, at long intervals, crawl into the dark recesses beneath their dwellings and curl up in protracted slumber. Perry says that if a Mahar stays awake for three years he will make up all his lost sleep in a long year’s snooze. That may be all true, but I never saw but three of them asleep, and it was the sight of these three that gave me a suggestion for our means of escape. I had been searching about far below the levels that we slaves were supposed to frequent–possibly fifty feet beneath the main floor of the building–among a network of corridors and apartments, when I came suddenly upon three Mahars curled up upon a bed of skins. At first I thought they were dead, but later their regular breathing convinced me of my error. Like a flash the thought came to me of the marvelous opportunity these sleeping reptiles offered as a means of eluding the…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #11, from The Book of Hallowe’en, by Ruth Edna Kelley

…HALLOWE’EN IN AMERICA In Colonial days Hallowe’en was not celebrated much in America. Some English still kept the customs of the old world, such as apple-ducking and snapping, and girls tried the apple-paring charm to reveal their lovers’ initials, and the comb-and-mirror test to see their faces. Ballads were sung and ghost-stories told, for the dead were thought to return on Hallowe’en. “There was a young officer in Phips’s company at the time of the finding of the Spanish treasure-ship, who had gone mad at the sight of the bursting sacks that the divers had brought up from the sea, as the gold coins covered the deck. This man had once lived in the old stone house on the ‘faire greene lane,’ and a report had gone out that his spirit still visited it, and caused discordant noises. Once … on a gusty November evening, when the clouds were scudding over the moon, a hall-door had blown open with a shrieking draft and a force that caused the floor to tremble.” BUTTERWORTH: Hallowe’en Reformation. Elves, goblins, and fairies are native on American soil. The Indians believed in evil manitous, some of whom were water-gods who exacted tribute from all who passed over their lakes. Henry…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

Excerpt #12, from The Talking Horse, and Other Tales, by F. Anstey

…indeed!’ ‘Poor dear Tumps came home so proud of your approval,’ said Jessie to Ella, ‘and we were awfully relieved to find you didn’t think we’d made the house quite too dreadful–weren’t we, Carrie?’ ‘Yes, indeed, Jessie.’ ‘Of course,’ observed the latter young lady, ‘it’s always so hard to hit upon another person’s taste exactly–especially in furnishing.’ ‘Impossible, I should have thought,’ from Mrs. Hylton. ‘I hope Ella is of a different opinion–what do you say, dearest?’ ‘Oh,’ cried Ella hastily, with splendid mendacity, ‘I–I liked it all very much, and–and it was so much too kind of you and Carrie. I’ve never thanked you for–for all the things you gave me!’ ‘Oh, those! they ain’t worth thanking for–just a few little artistic odds and ends. They set off a room, you know–give it a finish.’ ‘Young people nowadays,’ croaked old Mrs. Chapman lugubriously in Mrs. Hylton’s courteously inclined ear, ‘think so much of luxury and ornament. I’m sure when I married my dear husband, we—-’ ‘Now, mater dear, you really mustn’t!’ interrupted the irrepressible Jessie; ’Mrs. Hylton is on our side, you know. She likes pretty things about her–don’t you, Mrs. Hylton? And, talking of that, Ella, I hope you thought our glyco-vitrine decoration a success? We were perfectly…

More: Read or Listen on IA →

A production of Friendlyskies.net