| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Voice of the City by O. Henry: you by the throat like the quinsy. I broke into
Pettit's room and beat him on the back and called
him name -- names high up in the galaxy of the im-
mortals that we admired. And Pettit yawned and
begged to be allowed to sleep.
On the morrow, I dragged him to an editor. The
great man read, and, rising, gave Pettit his hand.
That was a decoration, a wreath of bay, and a guar-
antee of rent.
And then old Pettit smiled slowly. I call him Gen-
tleman Pettit now to myself. It's a miserable name
The Voice of the City |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Silas Marner by George Eliot: not an old man, _are_ you?"
"Fifty-five, as near as I can say, sir," said Silas.
"Oh, why, you may live thirty years longer--look at old Macey!
And that money on the table, after all, is but little. It won't go
far either way--whether it's put out to interest, or you were to
live on it as long as it would last: it wouldn't go far if you'd
nobody to keep but yourself, and you've had two to keep for a good
many years now."
"Eh, sir," said Silas, unaffected by anything Godfrey was saying,
"I'm in no fear o' want. We shall do very well--Eppie and me
'ull do well enough. There's few working-folks have got so much
Silas Marner |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe: fireplace was adorned with some very brilliant scriptural prints,
and a portrait of General Washington, drawn and colored in a manner
which would certainly have astonished that hero, if ever he happened
to meet with its like.
On a rough bench in the corner, a couple of woolly-headed
boys, with glistening black eyes and fat shining cheeks, were busy
in superintending the first walking operations of the baby, which,
as is usually the case, consisted in getting up on its feet,
balancing a moment, and then tumbling down,--each successive failure
being violently cheered, as something decidedly clever.
A table, somewhat rheumatic in its limbs, was drawn out in
Uncle Tom's Cabin |
