| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Wyoming by William MacLeod Raine: dragging blanket, saddle and bridle. At sight of him the horse
gave a spasmodic fling, then trembled again violently. A blind
was coaxed over its eyes and the bridle slipped on. Quickly and
warily, with deft fingers, the young man saddled and cinched. He
waved a hand jauntily to the ropers. The lariats were thrown off
as the puncher swung to the saddle. For an instant the buckskin
stood bewildered, motionless as a statue. There was a sudden leap
forward high in air, and Bob Austin, alias "Texas," swung his
sombrero with a joyous whoop.
"Fan him! Fan him!" screamed the spectators, and the rider's
quirt went up and down like a piston-rod.
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Alexandria and her Schools by Charles Kingsley: his disciples must needs form a school, and a system; and fancy that
they do honour to their master by refusing to follow in his steps; by
making his book a fixed dogmatic canon; attaching to it some magical
infallibility; declaring the very lie which he disproved by his whole
existence, that discovery is henceforth impossible, and the sum of
knowledge complete: instead of going on to discover as he discovered
before them, and in following his method, show that they honour him, not
in the letter, but in spirit and in truth.
For this, if you will consider, is the true meaning of that great
command, "Honour thy father and mother, that thy days may be long in the
land." On reverence for the authority of bygone generations depends the
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Vailima Letters by Robert Louis Stevenson: of the antique like some strange monastery; I would tell you
more of it, but I think I'm going to use it in a tale. The
annexe close by had its door sealed; poor Dowdney lost at sea
in a schooner. The place is haunted. The vast empty sheds,
the empty store, the airless, hot, long, low rooms, the claps
of wind that set everything flying - a strange uncanny house
to spend Christmas in.
JAN. 1ST, '92.
For a day or two I have sat close and wrought hard at the
HISTORY, and two more chapters are all but done. About
thirty pages should go by this mail, which is not what should
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