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authorAndres Rey <[email protected]>2016-12-08 15:44:37 +0000
committerAndres Rey <[email protected]>2016-12-08 15:44:37 +0000
commit2b5e1f66f0ceb8b00e1c29dc9e3cb18ce3554bbd (patch)
tree73eb479778c4bdce43cdcd03aea1de0d5df0a0ad /test/test-pages/clean-links/expected.html
parentf2c652f680fc9630c3c3235adf3e669d2bd9f1b9 (diff)
Refactored readability.js expected files to match readability.php style
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1 files changed, 1 insertions, 3 deletions
diff --git a/test/test-pages/clean-links/expected.html b/test/test-pages/clean-links/expected.html
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-<div id="readability-page-1" class="page">
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<h3 align="center ">Study Webtext</h3>
@@ -260,5 +259,4 @@
<p>There would seem little need for proceeding further in this history. Imagination will readily supply the meagre recital of poor Bartleby's interment. But ere parting with the reader, let me say, that if this little narrative has sufficiently interested him, to awaken curiosity as to who Bartleby was, and what manner of life he led prior to the present narrator's making his acquaintance, I can only reply, that in such curiosity I fully share, but am wholly unable to gratify it. Yet here I hardly know whether I should divulge one little item of rumor, which came to my ear a few months after the scrivener's decease. Upon what basis it rested, I could never ascertain; and hence how true it is I cannot now tell. But inasmuch as this vague report has not been without a certain strange suggestive interest to me, however said, it may prove the same with some others; and so I will briefly mention it. The report was this: that Bartleby had been a subordinate clerk in the Dead Letter Office at <a href="http://raven.cc.ukans.edu/%7Ezeke/bartleby/parker.html" target="_blank">Washington</a>, from which he had been suddenly removed by a change in the administration. When I think over this rumor, I cannot adequately express the emotions which seize me. Dead letters! does it not sound like dead men? Conceive a man by nature and misfortune prone to a pallid hopelessness, can any business seem more fitted to heighten it than that of continually handling these dead letters and assorting them for the flames? For by the cart-load they are annually burned. Sometimes from out the folded paper the pale clerk takes a ring:--the bank-note sent in swiftest charity:--he whom it would relieve, nor eats nor hungers any more; pardon for those who died despairing; hope for those who died unhoping; good tidings for those who died stifled by unrelieved calamities. On errands of life, these letters speed to death. </p>
<p> Ah Bartleby! Ah humanity!</p>
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