| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Tales of the Klondyke by Jack London: somnambulic propensities, and very set in his ideas. He had been
a weaver of cloth from the cradle, until the fever of Klondike had
entered his blood and torn him away from his loom. His cabin
stood midway between Sixty Mile Post and the Stuart River; and men
who made it a custom to travel the trail to Dawson, likened him to
a robber baron, perched in his fortress and exacting toll from the
caravans that used his ill-kept roads. Since a certain amount of
history was required in the construction of this figure, the less
cultured wayfarers from Stuart River were prone to describe him
after a still more primordial fashion, in which a command of
strong adjectives was to be chiefly noted.
|
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Margret Howth: A Story of To-day by Rebecca Harding Davis: which the souls of our grandmothers delighted,--the time which
Dr. Johnson sat up all night to read about in "Evelina,"--the
time when all the celestial virtues, all the earthly graces were
revealed in a condensed state to man through the blue eyes and
sumptuous linens of some Belinda Portman or Lord Mortimer. None
of your good-hearted, sorely-tempted villains then! It made your
hair stand on end only to read of them,--going about perpetually
seeking innocent maidens and unsophisticated old men to devour.
That was the time for holding up virtue and vice; no trouble then
in seeing which were sheep and which were goats! A person could
write a story with a moral to it, then, I should hope! People
Margret Howth: A Story of To-day |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Frances Waldeaux by Rebecca Davis: "Wandering about gathering edelweiss, while he is alone
and wretched!"
"He has his wife. You probably do not understand the
case fully," said Clara coldly. "I am going to wire to
his mother now." She turned away and Lucy stood
irresolute, her hand clutching the shaggy head of the
stone beast beside her.
"I can give him money. I'll go to him. He needs me!"
she said aloud. Then her whole body burned with shame.
She--Lucy Dunbar, good proper Lucy, whose conscience hurt
her if she laid her handkerchiefs away awry in her
|
