English Novels

"The Children of the Food grew steadily through all these years; that was the cardinal fact of the time. But it is the leakages make history. The children who had eaten grew, and soon there were other children growing; and all the best intentions in the world could not stop further leakages and still further leakages. The Food insisted on escaping with the pertinacity of a thing alive. Flour treated with the stuff crumbled in dry weather almost as if by intention into an impalpable powder, and would lift and travel before the lightest breeze."

"To one observer at least the most wonderful thing throughout that period of accumulating stress is the invincible inertia of the great mass of people, their quiet persistence in all that ignored the enormous presences, the promises of still more enormous things, that grew among them. Just as many a stream will be at its smoothest, will look most tranquil, running deep and strong, at the very verge of a cataract, so all that is most conservative in man seemed settling quietly into a serene ascendency during these latter days."

"Now it may seem a strange thing, but it is a fact that the giant Princess, when she came to England, knew of no other giants whatever. She had lived in a world where tact is almost a passion and reservations the air of one's life. They had kept the thing from her; they had hedged her about from sight or suspicion of any gigantic form, until her appointed coming to England was due. Until she met young Redwood she had no inkling that there was such a thing as another giant in the world."

"The Food of the Gods I call it, this substance that Mr. Bensington and Professor Redwood made between them; and having regard now to what it has already done and all that it is certainly going to do, there is surely no exaggeration in the name. But Mr. Bensington would no more have called it by that name in cold blood than he would have gone out from his flat in Sloane Street clad in regal scarlet and a wreath of laurel. The phrase was a mere first cry of astonishment from him. He called it the Food of the Gods in his enthusiasm, and for an hour or so at the most altogether. After that he decided he was being absurd."

"There is no doubt about what is not great, no race of men have such obvious littlenesses. They live so far as their human intercourse goes; in a narrow world; their researches involve infinite attention and an almost monastic seclusion; and what is left over is not very much. To witness some queer, shy, misshapen, grey-headed, self-important little discoverer of great discoveries, ridiculously adorned with the wide ribbon of an order of chivalry and holding a reception of his fellow men, or to read the anguish of Nature at the "neglect of science" when the angel of the birthday honours passes the Royal Society by, or to listen to one indefatigable lichenologist commenting on the work of another indefatigable lichenologist, such things force one to realise the unfaltering littleness of men. And withal the reef of science that these little "scientists" built and are yet building is so wonderful, so portentous, so full of mysterious half-shapen promises for the mighty future of man! They do not seem to realise the things they are doing."

"How many big wasps came out that day it is impossible to guess. There are at least fifty accounts of their apparition. There was one victim, a grocer, who discovered one of these monsters in a sugarcask and very rashly attacked it with a spade as it rose. He struck it to the ground for a moment, and it stung him through the boot as he struck at it again and cut its body in halves. He was first dead of the two..."

"In the middle years of the nineteenth century there first became abundant in this strange world of ours a class of men, men tending for the most part to become elderly, who are called, and who, though they dislike it extremely, are very properly called "Scientists.""

"The sort of thing that pleased the public mind was caricatures of eminent politicians after a course of Boom-feeding, uses of the idea on hoardings, and such edifying exhibitions as the dead wasps that had escaped the fire and the remaining hens. Beyond that the public did not care to look, until very strenuous efforts were made to turn its eyes to the remoter consequences, and even then for a while its enthusiasm for action was partial. "There's always somethin' New," said the public--a public so glutted with novelty that it would hear of the earth being split as one splits an apple without surprise, and, "I wonder what they'll do next.""

"She moved among the chestnut trees, with the destined lover drawing near to her, unanticipated, unsuspected. She thrust her hands in among the branches, breaking them and gathering them. She was alone in the world. Then — She looked up and in that moment she was mated. We must needs put our imaginations to his stature to see the beauty he saw. That unapproachable greatness that prevents our immediate sympathy with her did not exist for him. There she stood, a gracious girl; the first created being that had ever seemed a mate for him, light and slender, lightly clad, the fresh breeze of the dawn moulding the subtly folding robe upon her against the soft strong lines of her form, and with a great mass of blossoming chestnut branches in her hands. The collar of her robe opened to show the whiteness of her neck and a soft shadowed roundness that passed out of sight towards her shoulders. The breeze had stolen a strand or so of her hair, too, and strained its red-tipped brown across her cheek. Her eyes were open blue, and her lips rested always in the promise of a smile as she reached among the branches."

"Mankind was surely not so mad as that — surely not! It was impossible, it was incredible, it could not be. What good would it do, to kill the giant human when the gigantic in all the lower things had now inevitably come? They could not be so mad as that!"

"And presently little Redwood, pioneer of the new race, first child of all who ate the food, was crawling about his nursery, smashing furniture, biting like a horse, pinching like a vice; and bawling gigantic baby talk at his "Nanny" and "Mammy" and the rather scared and awe-stricken "Daddy," who had set this mischief going. The child was born with good intentions. "Padda be good, be good," he used to say as the breakables flew before him. "Padda" was his rendering of Pantagruel, the nickname Redwood imposed upon him."

"We are not beaten. No, Sir. You cannot say we are beaten. But your sons have broken the rules of war. Once last night, and now again. After our attack had been withdrawn. This afternoon they began to bombard London —" "That's legitimate!" "They have been firing shells filled with poison." "Poison?" "Yes. Poison. The Food — " "Herakleophorbia?" "Yes, Sir. Mr. Caterham, Sir — " "You are beaten! Of course that beats you. It's Cossar! What can you hope to do now? What good is it to do anything now? You will breathe it in the dust of every street. What is there to fight for more? Rules of War, indeed! And now Caterham wants to humbug me to help him bargain. Good heavens, man! Why should I come to your exploded windbag? He has played his game... murdered and muddied. Why should I?"

"And every one who know Peter and Sheila and Humphrey and Sandy when they were grown-up called them The Lucky Grants. So there does seem to be something in it after all."

"Whether all this really happened, not even Peter can say now. He had awakened after an unusually vivid dream to find the ship gone. And it was then, looking down into his empty hand, that he began to wonder whether the others were right. Perhaps there never had been a magic ship after all, perhaps nobody had ever promised a gift in exchange. Maybe. Maybe not. But whether the old man really gave them a gift or whether he didn't, all of them were happy and successful for the rest of their lives."

"Suddenly Peter knew what he must do. He must return the boat before he grew like the others. He must find the little dark shop and give back the flying-boat before it was too late."

"And then Peter began to wonder what would happen if he, too, grew like the others and didn't believe. His boat, is own little boat, would be neglected and forgotten. And the magic would work no longer — for when you no longer believe, then the magic stops."

"You have used it much … and you have used it well."

"Time was slipping away. The children were growing up little by little, even Sandy was quite big. And it was five years since Peter had seen the magic ship in the old dark window. And very good use they made of it, too. Backwards and forewords through history they went, until the story of their country became a living growing world to them."

"They went further back in time, till it seemed the time-cloud would never lift. They walked in the hanging gardens of Babylon, they watched beside Leonidas in the pass of Thermopylae, they stood with Horatius, when he kept the bridge, and stepped beside Hannibal over the frozen Alps when he marched for Rome."

"It was all so wonderful and so magical that sometimes they got a little confused by their adventures, so that their memories were like painted patterns that some one has left out in the rain. And sometimes they began to wonder if it was really true — all of them except Peter, who had no doubts whatsoever."

"You have forgotten," said the old man. "And you will forget still more!" "I don't want to forget," cried Peter, "I don't want to!" The old man leaned over and touched Peter's forehead with his finger. It was a pleasant touch, cool and soothing. "Of course you must forget," he said kindly. "You must make room for all the new things you have to learn."

"You must must make your way with all speed to the castle rock and take you stand upon the highest place, that is to the left hand as you face the river. There you must stand with the ship ready in hand, awaiting the signal. And having received the signal, you must not delay a second."

"At first Robin was too dumbfounded to think clearly, but soon the thought of his man in danger put all other ideas out of his head; he sat there, a hand pulling impatiently at his beard. Round and round went his thoughts. More than once, his plan almost complete, he would discover some detail that would endanger the whole thing."

"You … shall give the signal. You must press as close to the stake as you dare … The signal must be plain to him who watches."

"I must live my life in my own way and in my own time."

""Did you hear that? gasped Humphrey. "The villain in the greenwood!" "Who robs the rich," continued Sheila. "To give to the poor," finished Sandy. Peter clapped his hands together. "Robin Hood!" he cried."

"Now do you understand right well the parts you must play?"

"She walked silent between the chattering children. This was their world, their own real world. But friendly and happy though it was, it wasn't her world. Hers was a world of cold stone castles and grim fighting; of hardship and courage. Of courage! She was suddenly impatient of this pleasant easy world of theirs, where life flowed so smoothly. She was so tired that it was almost as though she moved in a dream. Nothing seemed quite real any longer."

""I wonder what's really underneath that cloud?" asked Sandy. "I mean, if we could look through it, what would we see?" "The past, spread out like a map," Sheila answered."

"This is no time for anger … nor for any talk of punishment. First we must fight. And when we return in victory, then I shall deal justly with the traitors."

"I had thought you were a dream, all of you. Or that you had forgotten me. And I do not know which thought I liked least. And now you are here at last!"

"Usertsen ordered that an inscription be made testifying to the truth of the story, and placed it in his coffin. He also ordered that it should be carved into the rock so that it would endure for all time. Odd isn't it?"

"The children stood speechless, staring at the picture of their own ship. It was a faithful picture, the colours bright and the shape true."

"It was just possible that the magic had run out, as Peter said. After all, you knew a lot less about magic than you did about an electric torch."

"Nobody must know where it has come from. It is my secret … We must slip it in through the vicarage door when it is dark!"

"I will not hide from you lad … that of all the tasks, yours is the most perilous. But all will go well if you be steadfast and not lose your wits. Now listen. When you have played your part, you must walk slowly away, and in the confusion — for confusion there will certainly be — you may well escape. Whatever betide, you must not run, nor show any sign of haste; for a crowd that is cheated is swift upon the scent as any hound. And if by ill chance you be taken, then submit yourself, for I will come to your aid, I pledge my word."

"These are bad times. One day you live in peace in the house you have built for yourself, and the next, who knows, but the house is burnt about your head, and you wander forth, starving."

"You can't help troubles popping up now and then, even when you don't expect them. I mean, even if we stayed here on this spot without moving, something would happen!"

"These days no man knows who may be his friend, nor who his enemy."

"On the day you send back Skidbladnir, I will grant each one his heart's desire."

"Guard my ship well. And now I will tell you a secret concerning Skidbladnir that no soul knows, save Father Odin and me. When you alight from the ship and set foot in a foreign land whose tongue you can neither speak nor understand, pass each one of you a hand over the boar's head and the secret of foreign speech shall be made clear. And more, you shall look like the dwellers in the land and no man shall know that you are strangers. And so, brother, farewell!"

"Don't be silly … It isn't witchcraft at all. Just plain straightforward magic!"

"We'll forget … Being grown-up does that to you."

"Frey… men come and go. The years pass with them more swiftly than the flight of an arrow. But with the gods it is not so. Ages must pass, the sea may grow dry and the mountains crumble, but our hair is not less bright, nor our strength less, nor our wits more dim. The gods endure. Now let us strike a bargain. This child shall keep your ship until such a time as he no longer desires it, then he shall return it to you!"

"Frey, it is very clear that Skidbladnir has passed out of your hands. It was yours and you lost it. Now it has come to this child by right of purchase, and it is his until he, of his own free will, shall give it up!"

"What man is born who would not desire Skidbladnir?"

"To the Peace Stead, for this thing must be settled in friendship."

"I must never leave Asgard and my work of watching all growing things … Frey must not seek his own, lest famine fall upon Asgard and the world of men starve."

"There is no magic when one no longer believes."

"The inscription keeps mentioning a ship — a flying ship. … Now if the ship had been the ordinary pattern of Egyptian ship, I shouldn't have thought twice about it. The ship of Osiris — that's one of their chief gods, or the Sunboat of Ra — that's another god — well you might expect that. But it isn't. It's something quite different. It's the kind of ship you find a couple of thousand years later in a very different kind of land. A dragon-ship, complete with square sails and gilt boar's head at the prow."