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<!DOCTYPE html>
<html lang="en">
<head>
<meta charset="utf-8">
<title>Excerpts From Select Public Domain Books</title>
</head>
<body>
<h1>Excerpts From Select Public Domain Books</h1>
<table>
<tr>
<th>Book Title</th>
<th>Book Author</th>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><em>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</em></td>
<td>Lewis Carroll</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><em>Peter Pan</em></td>
<td>J. M. Barrie</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td><em>The Wonderful Wizard of Oz</em></td>
<td>L. Frank Baum</td>
</tr>
</table>
<h2><em>Alice's Adventures in Wonderland</em>, by Lewis Carroll</h2>
<p>Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do. Once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, "and what is the use of a book," thought Alice, "without pictures or conversations?"</p>
<p>So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her.</p>
<p>There was nothing so very remarkable in that, nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, "Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!" But when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket and looked at it and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and, burning with curiosity, she ran across the field after it and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole, under the hedge. In another moment, down went Alice after it!</p>
<h2><em>Peter Pan</em>, by J. M. Barrie</h2>
<p>All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and cried, "Oh, why can't you remain like this for ever!" This was all that passed between them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.</p>
<p>Of course they lived at 14 [their house number on their street], and until Wendy came her mother was the chief one. She was a lovely lady, with a romantic mind and such a sweet mocking mouth. Her romantic mind was like the tiny boxes, one within the other, that come from the puzzling East, however many you discover there is always one more; and her sweet mocking mouth had one kiss on it that Wendy could never get, though there it was, perfectly conspicuous in the right-hand corner.</p>
<h2><em>The Wonderful Wizard of Oz</em>, by L. Frank Baum</h2>
<p>Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Their house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry and Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in another corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar--except a small hole dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family could go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to crush any building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the middle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark hole.</p>
<p>When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor a house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of the sky in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a gray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the house had been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else.</p>
<p><strong>Text excerpts from: <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">Project Gutenberg</a></strong></p>
<ul>
<li><strong>Mohamed Khalil</strong></li>
<li><strong>ITMD-361</strong></li>
<li><strong>Lab 3</strong></li>
</ul>
</body>
</html>