John Buchan - Huntingtower epub indir Online

Uluslararası Dijital Yayıncılık Forumu (ePub, “ipab” olarak telaffuz edilir), Huntingtower adlı kitabın Dijital Yayınları Tartışma Forumu ile bağlantılı olarak oluşturulan extension.epub ile birlikte, çeşitlerin elektronik yayınlanması için bir düzendir. Düzen, dijital dergiyi tek bir dosyaya dağıtır ve yayınlar, bu da elektronik yayınlar ePub ile uygun yazılım ve donanımın yanı sıra Huntingtower içindeki diğer birkaç dergiyi kullanmayı mümkün kılar. Normal bir kitap Huntingtower. EPub HTML 5'i ifade eder, stil oldukça karmaşıktır, ancak kolayca indirebilirsiniz. İki sistem - bu, HTML 5'i destekleyen minimum miktardır ve aslında, birbirine uymaz (iBooks ve Android), ayrıca HTML'nin bir kısmını destekleyen çok sayıda eski telefonun yanı sıra limitleri ve yanlışlıkları. EPub'ın sınırlamaları arasında - yazarın Huntingtower adlı kitabının Huntingtower küçük HTML belgelerine bölünmesi gerekecektir. Büyük belgeler içeren cihazlar kolay çalışmayabilir. John Buchan etkileşimli medya nesneleri ve dönüştürücü öğelerinin yenilenmiş tasarımı kolayca korunmaz. Epub ayrıca html verilerinin yanı sıra, içerikte kullanılan öğeleri içeren bir metin mesajına da sahiptir - grafikler, stiller, el yazmaları, yazı tipleri. Tüm bunları Huntingtower John Buchan kitabında ücretsiz olarak indirebilirsiniz. HTML, CSS, vb. İçin belirli "ekler" veya "kısıtlamalar" Epub belirtmez. İnternet çok fazla dinamik içerik barındırıyor ve pek çok kitabın içeriği değişiyor ya da bozuluyor. Sitemizde, John Buchan yazarının Huntingtower kitabı orijinal, saf haliyle sunulmaktadır. Epub düzeni basitlik, üretilebilirlik, açıklık ve ayrı DRM bakımıdır. Bu stil, Huntingtower kılavuzuna elektronik biçimde rehberlik etmeyi amaçlamaktadır. Birçok uygulama indirmek için Huntingtower EPub'u ücretsiz görüntülemenizi sağlar. Bu tarzda epub Huntingtower aslında bir belge olarak dağıtılır.

Mr. Dickson McCunn completed the polishing of his smooth cheeks with the towel, glanced appreciatively at their reflection in the looking-glass, and then permitted his eyes to stray out of the window. In the little garden lilacs were budding, and there was a gold line of daffodils beside the tiny greenhouse. Beyond the sooty wall a birch flaunted its new tassels, and the jackdaws were circling about the steeple of the Guthrie Memorial Kirk. A blackbird whistled from a thorn-bush, and Mr. McCunn was inspired to follow its example. He began a tolerable version of "Roy's Wife of Aldivalloch."He felt singularly light-hearted, and the immediate cause was his safety razor. A week ago he had bought the thing in a sudden fit of enterprise, and now he shaved in five minutes, where before he had taken twenty, and no longer confronted his fellows, at least one day in three, with a countenance ludicrously mottled by sticking-plaster. Calculation revealed to him the fact that in his fifty-five years, having begun to shave at eighteen, he had wasted three thousand three hundred and seventy hours-or one hundred and forty days-or between four and five months-by his neglect of this admirable invention. Now he felt that he had stolen a march on Time. He had fallen heir, thus late, to a fortune in unpurchasable leisure.He began to dress himself in the sombre clothes in which he had been accustomed for thirty-five years and more to go down to the shop in Mearns Street. And then a thought came to him which made him discard the grey-striped trousers, sit down on the edge of his bed, and muse.Since Saturday the shop was a thing of the past. On Saturday at half-past eleven, to the accompaniment of a glass of dubious sherry, he had completed the arrangements by which the provision shop in Mearns Street, which had borne so long the legend of D. McCunn, together with the branches in Crossmyloof and the Shaws, became the property of a company, yclept the United Supply Stores, Limited. He had received in payment cash, debentures and preference shares, and his lawyers and his own acumen had acclaimed the bargain. But all the week-end he had been a little sad. It was the end of so old a song, and he knew no other tune to sing. He was comfortably off, healthy, free from any particular cares in life, but free too from any particular duties. "Will I be going to turn into a useless old man?" he asked himself.But he had woke up this Monday to the sound of the blackbird, and the world, which had seemed rather empty twelve hours before, was now brisk and alluring. His prowess in quick shaving assured him of his youth. "I'm no' that dead old," he observed, as he sat on the edge of he bed, to his reflection in the big looking-glass.It was not an old face. The sandy hair was a little thin on the top and a little grey at the temples, the figure was perhaps a little too full for youthful elegance, and an athlete would have censured the neck as too fleshy for perfect health. But the cheeks were rosy, the skin clear, and the pale eyes singularly childlike. They were a little weak, those eyes, and had some difficulty in looking for long at the same object, so that Mr. McCunn did not stare people in the face, and had, in consequence, at one time in his career acquired a perfectly undeserved reputation for cunning.