fb2 Huntingtower - Online indir

XML tabanlı FB2 Rusya'da yaşama başladı. E-kitap koleksiyoncuları arasında, meta verileri indirme dosyasında Huntingtower saklayabildiği için yaygındır. Ayrıca, diğer biçimlere dönüştürme kolaylığı nedeniyle yaygın olarak bir depolama biçimi olarak kullanılır. FB2, Huntingtower tarafından Huntingtower adlı kitabın her bir öğesini tanımlayan ve öncelikle kurguya yönelik XML içerir. FB2 dosyaları Windows, macOS ve Linux için çeşitli e-kitap okuyucuları tarafından görüntülenebilir. FB2 dosya biçimi kitabın görünümü yerine yapısını tanımlar. Bu, diğer biçimlere dönüştürme ve ücretsiz Huntingtower indirme için kullanışlı hale getirir. Biçim, basit anlamsal işaretleme, meta verileri gömme, Unicode ve yerleşik biçimlendirme ile ayırt edilir. Bu biçim, tüm cihazlarla ve biçimlerle uyumluluk sağlamak üzere tasarlanmıştır. FB2'nin özelliği, fb2'nin donanıma bağlı olmaması ve herhangi bir kağıt boyutuna sahip olmamasıdır, FB2'de herhangi bir yerde hiçbir ölçü birimi belirtilmez - piksel, nokta veya boyut. Huntingtower John Buchan .Fb2 dosyasından alınan metnin nasıl görüneceği, bu biçimin görüntüleme programının ayarlarına veya dosyayı başka bir biçime dönüştürürken belirtilen parametrelere bağlıdır. Bu formatın dezavantajı, ders kitapları, referans kitaplar ve bilimsel yayınlar için anlamlılık eksikliğidir (hatta “sanat kitabı” adı bundan söz eder). Biçimdeki metnin karmaşık bir düzeni, numaralı ve madde işaretli listeler ve diğer özel araçlar için destek yoktur. Tanınmış e-kitapların birçoğu FB2'yi yalnızca harici yazılım aracılığıyla destekler; PocketBook ve ABC gibi Sovyet sonrası ülkelerden gelen gelişmeler başlangıçta FB2'yi okuyor.

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.