| 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: chair affair, guarded by the dock police. Those men who have
previously (i.e., night before) been engaged, show their ticket and
pass through, about six hundred. The rest--some five hundred stand
behind the barrier, patiently waiting the chance of a job, but less
than twenty of these get engaged. They are taken on by a foreman who
appears next the barrier and proceeds to pick his men. No sooner is
the foreman seen, than there is a wild rush to the spot and a sharp mad
fight to "catch his eye." The men picked out, pass the barrier, and the
excitement dies away until another lot of men are wanted.
They wait until eight o'clock strikes, which is the signal to withdraw.
The barrier is taken down and all those hundreds of men, wearily
In Darkest England and The Way Out |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Westward Ho! by Charles Kingsley: And so the two wandered on together through the glorious tropic
woods, and then returned to the beach to find the sick already
grown cheerful, and many who that morning could not stir from their
hammocks, pacing up and down, and gaining strength with every step.
"Well done, lads!" cried Amyas, "keep a cheerful mind. We will
have the music ashore after dinner, for want of mermaids to sing to
us, and those that can dance may."
And so those four days were spent; and the men, like schoolboys on
a holiday, gave themselves up to simple merriment, not forgetting,
however, to wash the clothes, take in fresh water, and store up a
good supply of such fruit as seemed likely to keep; until, tired
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Phaedrus by Plato: of the way in which the speaker who knows the truth may, without any
serious purpose, steal away the hearts of his hearers. This piece of good-
fortune I attribute to the local deities; and, perhaps, the prophets of the
Muses who are singing over our heads may have imparted their inspiration to
me. For I do not imagine that I have any rhetorical art of my own.
PHAEDRUS: Granted; if you will only please to get on.
SOCRATES: Suppose that you read me the first words of Lysias' speech.
PHAEDRUS: 'You know how matters stand with me, and how, as I conceive,
they might be arranged for our common interest; and I maintain that I ought
not to fail in my suit, because I am not your lover. For lovers repent--'
SOCRATES: Enough:--Now, shall I point out the rhetorical error of those
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