extract from Agatha Christie's Evil Under the Sun
'To the left of the mantelpiece
there were some shelves with a row of books. Hercule Poirot looked thoughtfully
along the titles.
A Bible, a battered copy of
Shakespeare's plays, The Marriage of William Ashe, by Mrs. Humphry
Ward. The Young Stepmother, by Charlotte Yonge. The Shropshire
Lad. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral. Benard Shaw's St Joan.
Gone With the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell. The Burning Court,
by Dickson Carr.
Poirot took out two books.
The Young Stepmother and William Ashe, and glanced inside
at the blurred stamp affixed to the title page. As he was about to replace
them, his eye caught sight of a book that had been shoved behind the other
books. It was a small dumpy volume bound in brown calf ... '
'Jo! Jo! where are you?' cried
Meg, at the foot of the garret stairs.
'Here!' answered a husky voice from above; and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over The Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo's favourite refuge; and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by, and didn't mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks, and waited to hear the news ...
I would take Alices advice and read up a little now; its so nice to know useful things, and be able to find help and comfort in good books when trouble comes, as Ellen Montgomery and Fleda did, and Ethel, and the other girls in Miss Yonges stories, " said Eva, earnestly, remembering how much the efforts of those natural little heroines had helped her in her own struggles for self-control and the cheerful bearing of the burdens which come to all.
In Miss Yonge's Dynevor
Terrace a portion of one word was joined on to another with the awkward
result that a young lady is described "without stretched arms."
Wheatley, Henry B. : "Literary
Blunders: a chapter in the History of Human Error" 1893, page 120.
'That evening the moonlight on the lake was surpassingly lovely; there
was not a ripple to break the sheen of the water, and the clear outline
of Mont Blanc rose like silver against the dark black-blue of the sky.
They all strolled down to the shore; Mrs. Winthrop went out with Ford
in his skiff, for ten minutes. Sylvia watched the little boat
float up and down for twenty; then she returned to the house and read
for forty more. When Sylvia was down-stairs, she read the third canto
ofChilde Harold; in her own room she kept a private supply
of the works of Miss Yonge. At ten, Katharine entered. Has John
gone ? said the aunt, putting in her mark and closing the Byronic