| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg by Mark Twain: it away from you, for God's sake!"
But that question was wrung from those men again the next night--and
got the same retort. But weaker.
And the third night the men uttered the question yet again--with
anguish, and absently. This time--and the following night--the
wives fidgeted feebly, and tried to say something. But didn't.
And the night after that they found their tongues and responded--
longingly:
"Oh, if we COULD only guess!"
Halliday's comments grew daily more and more sparklingly
disagreeable and disparaging. He went diligently about, laughing at
The Man that Corrupted Hadleyburg |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from The Jungle by Upton Sinclair: once begun, will continue for three or four hours, and it involves one
uninterrupted dance. The guests form a great ring, locking hands, and,
when the music starts up, begin to move around in a circle. In the center
stands the bride, and, one by one, the men step into the enclosure and
dance with her. Each dances for several minutes--as long as he pleases;
it is a very merry proceeding, with laughter and singing, and when the
guest has finished, he finds himself face to face with Teta Elzbieta,
who holds the hat. Into it he drops a sum of money--a dollar, or perhaps
five dollars, according to his power, and his estimate of the value of
the privilege. The guests are expected to pay for this entertainment;
if they be proper guests, they will see that there is a neat sum left over
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Alexandria and her Schools by Charles Kingsley: mole now stands the greater part of the modern city; the vast site of
the ancient one is a wilderness.
But Alexander was not destined to carry out his own magnificent project.
That was left for the general whom he most esteemed, and to whose
personal prowess he had once owed his life; a man than whom history
knows few greater, Ptolemy, the son of Lagus. He was an adventurer, the
son of an adventurer, his mother a cast-off concubine of Philip of
Macedon. There were those who said that he was in reality a son of
Philip himself. However, he rose at court, became a private friend of
young Alexander, and at last his Somatophylax, some sort of Colonel of
the Life Guards. And from thence he rose rapidly, till after his great
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