BMTG Daily Dose

Formerly known as the Daily Dose, the Weekly Dose is home to weekly excerpts from a wide variety of important books. These excerpts are near and dear to the hearts of the BMTG membership. Submissions from BMTG members are welcome, as long as the guidelines are followed. Submissions that do not conform to the official guidelines will be rejected without the opportunity to appeal. Excerpts are best when read aloud with a dramatic flair.

2006
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Week of September 26, 2005

The Valley Of Silent Men by James Oliver Curwood

        He was only a step behind her in passing Kedsty's office. She reached the outer door and opened it. It was pitch-dark outside, and a deluge of rain beat into their faces. He observed that she did not replace the hood of her raincoat when she darted out. As
he closed the door, her hand groped to his arm and from that found his hand. Her fingers clung to his tightly.
        He did not ask questions as they faced the black chaos of rain. A rending streak of lightning revealed her for an instant, her bare head bowed to the wind. Then came a crash of thunder that shook the earth under their feet, and her fingers closed more tightly about his hand. And in that crash he heard her voice, half laughing, half broken, saying,
        "I'm afraid--of thunder!"

The Cords of Vanity by James Branch Cabell

        "Yes, only I was the slave, I think, and you--er--I mean, there goes the roof, and it is an uncommonly good thing for posterity you thought of the trap-door. Good thing the wind is veering, too. By Jove! look at those flames!" I cried, as the main body of the Continental toppled inward like a house of cards; "they are splashing, actually splashing,
like waves over a breakwater!"
        I drew a deep breath and turned from the conflagration, only to encounter its reflection in her widened eyes. "Yes, I was a Trojan warrior," I resumed; "one of the many unknown men who sought and found death beside Scamander, trodden down by Achilles or Diomedes. So they died knowing they fought in a bad cause, but rapt with that joy they had in remembering the desire of the world and her perfect loveliness. She scarcely knew that I existed; but I had loved her; I had overheard some laughing words of hers in passing, and I treasured them as men treasure gold. Or she had spoken, perhaps--oh, day of days!--to me, in a low, courteous voice that came straight from the back of the throat and blundered very deliciously over the perplexities of our alien speech. I remembered--even as a boy, I remembered."
        She cast back her head and laughed merrily. "I reckon," said she, "you are still a boy, or else you are the most amusing lunatic I ever met."

Week of September 19, 2005

Black Bartlemy's Treasure by Jeffrey Farnol

        "Shall you--hang him, Rupert?"
        "Assuredly! 'Tis a black rogue and merits a worse fate."
        "Is he then tried and condemned already, Rupert?"
        "Nay, though 'twill be soon done. We have come on such evidence of his guilt as doth condemn him out of hand."
        "What evidence, cousin?"
        "His doublet all besmirched with his victim's blood. The man is a very devil and must hang at dawn. So, Joan, stir not abroad in the morning until I come to fetch you. A fair, good night, sweet coz, and sweet dreams attend thee!" And away trips Sir Rupert and leaves us staring on one another, she proud and gracious in all her dainty finery and I a very hang-dog fellow, my worn garments smirched by the grime of my many hiding-places.

Children of the Bush by Henry Lawson

Back at the station, Wall walked up and down till he cooled. He went inside and sat down, but it was no use. He lifted his head and saw his dead wife's portrait on the wall. Perhaps his whole life ran before him in detail--but this is not a psychological study.
There were only two tracks open to him now: either to give in, or go on as he was going--to shut himself out from human nature and become known as "Mean Wall," "Hungry Wall," or "Mad Wall, the Squatter." He was a tall, dark man of strong imagination and more than ordinary intelligence. And it was the great crisis of his ruined life. He walked to the top of a knoll near the homestead and saw the fire on the ridges above Ross's farm. As he turned back he saw a horseman ride up and dismount by the yard.

Week of September 12, 2005

The Treasure by Selma Lagerlof

        But as Elsalill was making such haste to reach the inn, something began to roll before her feet. It seemed to have been thrown down in front of her, and she nearly stumbled over it.
        "What can it be that rolls on and on before my feet?" thought Elsalill. "It must be a stone that I have kicked from the ground and sent rolling down the hill."
        She was in such a hurry to reach Sir Archie that she did not like being hindered by the thing that rolled close before her feet. She kicked it aside, but it came back at once and rolled before her down the lane.
        Elsalill heard it ring like silver when she kicked it away, and she saw that it was bright and shining.
        "It is no common stone," she thought. "I believe it is a coin of silver." But she was in such haste to reach Sir Archie that she thought she had no time to pick it up.

The Adventures of Hugh Trevor by Thomas Holcroft

        Where were my troubles to end? The persecuting malice of fortune was intolerable. Philip, the footman whom I had hired, but scarcely ever employed, had disappeared: having previously broken open my trunk, and taken, with the ten pounds, such of my linen and effects as he could carry under his cloaths, and in his pockets, without being seen.
        This was a stroke little less painful than the worst of the accidents that had befallen me: yet, so harassed was my mind, and so wearied with grieving, that I did not feel it with half the poignancy.
        Act however I must. But how? I had left the carpenter and his family in suspense. Must I talk of favours which I could not confer? or mention remuneration that would but seem like mockery? This was painful: but not so painful as falsehood.

Week of September 5, 2005

Government By The Brewers? by Adolph Keitel

The brewers know that the saloons are the meeting places of lawbreakers and disreputables, that they enter the side doors leading to private rooms where burglaries, holdups and other crimes are planned and the booty is divided--yet, brewers will make no real effort to improve these conditions.
Is it surprising that the public is clamoring for the complete elimination of the breweries?

Laughter by Henri Bergson

Let us begin at the simplest point. What is a comic physiognomy? Where does a ridiculous expression of the face come from? And what is, in this case, the distinction between the comic and the ugly? Thus stated, the question could scarcely be answered in any other than an arbitrary fashion. Simple though it may appear, it is, even now, too subtle to allow of a direct attack. We should have to begin with a definition of ugliness, and then discover what addition the comic makes to it; now, ugliness is not much easier to analyse than is beauty. However, we will employ an artifice which will often stand us in good stead. We will exaggerate the problem, so to speak, by magnifying the effect to the point of making the cause visible. Suppose, then, we intensify ugliness to the point of deformity, and study the transition from the deformed to the ridiculous.