| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from In Darkest England and The Way Out by General William Booth: which to dull the cravings of his hungry stomach. What are you to do
with this man?
Remember this is no fancy sketch--it is a typical case. There are
hundreds and thousands of such applicants. Any one who is at all
familiar with life in London and our other large towns, will recognise
that gaunt figure standing there asking for bread and shelter or for
work by which he can obtain both. What can we do with him? Before him
Society stands paralysed, quieting its conscience every now and then by
an occasional dole of bread and soup, varied with the semi-criminal
treatment of the Casual Ward, until the manhood is crushed out of the
man and you have in your hands a reckless, despairing, spirit-broken
In Darkest England and The Way Out |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Weir of Hermiston by Robert Louis Stevenson: him the compliment of a visit. Young Hay of Romanes rode down to call,
on his crop-eared pony; young Pringle of Drumanno came up on his bony
grey. Hay remained on the hospitable field, and must be carried to bed;
Pringle got somehow to his saddle about 3 A.M., and (as Archie stood
with the lamp on the upper doorstep) lurched, uttered a senseless view-
holloa, and vanished out of the small circle of illumination like a
wraith. Yet a minute or two longer the clatter of his break-neck flight
was audible, then it was cut off by the intervening steepness of the
hill; and again, a great while after, the renewed beating of phantom
horse-hoofs, far in the valley of the Hermiston, showed that the horse
at least, if not his rider, was still on the homeward way.
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Sons of the Soil by Honore de Balzac: bill-hook in her hand and the tool used to make the incisions in the
bark of the tree.
"Let us go and tell the general at once, before he breakfasts," cried
the countess; "he might die of anger."
"I'll prepare him," said Blondet.
"They have killed the dog," said Olympe, in tears.
"You loved the poor greyhound, dear, enough to weep for him?" said the
countess.
"I think of Prince as a warning; I fear some danger to my husband."
"How they have ruined this beautiful morning for us," said the
countess, with an adorable little pout.
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