Commit 2d3af08d authored by julien's avatar julien

Added pdf for widows and orphans on linux

parent 753edc42
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC>
<html lang="en" lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<title>
Widows and orphans, 3
</title>
<!-- <script src="https://unpkg.com/pagedjs/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script> -->
<script src="http://localhost:9090/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<title>
Widows and orphans, 3
</title>
<script src="https://unpkg.com/pagedjs/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script>
<!-- <script src="http://localhost:9090/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script> -->
<style>
/* interface */
@media screen {
<style>
/* interface */
body {
background: whitesmoke;
}
@media screen {
body {
background: whitesmoke;
}
.pagedjs_page {
margin-bottom: 10px;
box-shadow: 0 0 0 1px rgba(0, 0,0,0.2);
}
.pagedjs_page {
margin-bottom: 10px;
box-shadow: 0 0 0 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2);
}
.pagedjs_pages {
width: calc(var(--width) * 2);
display: flex;
flex-direction: row;
flex-wrap: wrap;
justify-content: flex-start;
margin: 0 auto;
}
.pagedjs_first_page {
margin-left: 50%;
}
.pagedjs_pages {
width: calc(var(--width) * 2);
display: flex;
flex-direction: row;
flex-wrap: wrap;
justify-content: flex-start;
margin: 0 auto;
}
.pagedjs_first_page {
margin-left: 50%;
}
.pagedjs_page {
background: linear-gradient( white 0%, white 94%, aquamarine 94%, aquamarine 100%), white;
background-size: 100% 16px;
background-repeat: repeat-y;
background-position-y: 0;
}
</style>
}
<style>
:root{
font-size: 14px;
}
.pagedjs_page {
background: linear-gradient( white 0%, white 94%, aquamarine 94%, aquamarine 100%), white;
background-size: 100% 16px;
background-repeat: repeat-y;
background-position-y: 0;
}
</style>
@page {
size: A5;
margin: 0px 10mm;
<style>
:root {
font-size: 14px;
}
@page {
size: A5;
margin: 0px 10mm;
@page {
@page {
size: 140mm 200mm;
margin: 30px 30px;
@bottom-right{
content: counter(page);
@bottom-right {
content: counter(page);
font-size: 100px;
color: red;
position: relative;
......@@ -78,30 +77,31 @@
}
}
}
section {
break-before: page;
page-break-before: always;
}
section {
break-before: page;
page-break-before: always;
}
p {
line-height: 16px;
margin: 0;
text-indent: 10mm;
p {
line-height: 16px;
margin: 0;
text-indent: 10mm;
widows: 3;
orphans: 3;
}
widows: 3;
orphans: 3;
}
h1{
font-size: 24px;
margin-top: 0;
}
</style>
h1 {
font-size: 24px;
margin-top: 0;
}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<p>Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted.</p>
......@@ -111,7 +111,7 @@
<p>Crossing this dusky entry, and on through yon low-arched way—cut through what in old times must have been a great central chimney with fireplaces all round—you enter the public room. A still duskier place is this, with such low ponderous beams above, and such old wrinkled planks beneath, that you would almost fancy you trod some old craft’s cockpits, especially of such a howling night, when this corner-anchored old ark rocked so furiously.</p>
<p> On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like table covered with cracked glass cases, filled with dusty rarities gathered from this wide world’s remotest nooks. Projecting from the further angle of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude attempt at a right whale’s head. Be that how it may, there stands the vast arched bone of the whale’s jaw, so wide, a coach might almost drive beneath it. Within are shabby shelves, ranged round with old decanters, bottles, flasks; and in those jaws of swift destruction, like another cursed Jonah (by which name indeed they called him), bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells the sailors deliriums and death.</p>
<p>Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. Though true cylinders without—within, the villanous green goggling glasses deceitfully tapered downwards to a cheating bottom. Parallel meridians rudely pecked into the glass, surround these footpads’ goblets. Fill to THIS mark, and your charge is but a penny; to THIS a penny more; and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp down for a shilling.</p>
<p>Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of SKRIMSHANDER. I sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied. “But avast,” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer’s blanket, have ye? I s’pose you are goin’ a-whalin’, so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of SKRIMSHANDER. I sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied. “But avast,” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer’s blanket, have ye? I s’pose you are goin’ a-whalin’, so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>I told him that I never liked to sleep two in a bed; that if I should ever do so, it would depend upon who the harpooneer might be, and that if he (the landlord) really had no other place for me, and the harpooneer was not decidedly objectionable, why rather than wander further about a strange town on so bitter a night, I would put up with the half of any decent man’s blanket.</p>
<p>“I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper?—you want supper? Supper’ll be ready directly.”</p>
<p>I sat down on an old wooden settle, carved all over like a bench on the Battery. At one end a ruminating tar was still further adorning it with his jack-knife, stooping over and diligently working away at the space between his legs. He was trying his hand at a ship under full sail, but he didn’t make much headway, I thought.</p>
......@@ -181,4 +181,5 @@
</body>
</html>
</html>
\ No newline at end of file
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC>
<html lang="en" lang="en">
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<title>
Widows and orphans, none
</title>
<!-- <script src="https://unpkg.com/pagedjs/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script> -->
<script src="http://localhost:9090/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
<meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" />
<title>
Widows and orphans, none
</title>
<script src="https://unpkg.com/pagedjs/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script>
<!-- <script src="http://localhost:9090/dist/paged.polyfill.js"></script> -->
<style>
/* interface */
@media screen {
<style>
/* interface */
body {
background: whitesmoke;
}
@media screen {
body {
background: whitesmoke;
}
.pagedjs_page {
margin-bottom: 10px;
box-shadow: 0 0 0 1px rgba(0, 0,0,0.2);
}
.pagedjs_page {
margin-bottom: 10px;
box-shadow: 0 0 0 1px rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2);
}
.pagedjs_pages {
width: calc(var(--width) * 2);
display: flex;
flex-direction: row;
flex-wrap: wrap;
justify-content: flex-start;
margin: 0 auto;
}
.pagedjs_first_page {
margin-left: 50%;
}
.pagedjs_pages {
width: calc(var(--width) * 2);
display: flex;
flex-direction: row;
flex-wrap: wrap;
justify-content: flex-start;
margin: 0 auto;
}
.pagedjs_first_page {
margin-left: 50%;
}
.pagedjs_page {
background: linear-gradient( white 0%, white 94%, aquamarine 94%, aquamarine 100%), white;
background-size: 100% 16px;
background-repeat: repeat-y;
background-position-y: 0;
}
</style>
}
<style>
:root{
font-size: 14px;
}
.pagedjs_page {
background: linear-gradient( white 0%, white 94%, aquamarine 94%, aquamarine 100%), white;
background-size: 100% 16px;
background-repeat: repeat-y;
background-position-y: 0;
}
</style>
@page {
size: A5;
margin: 0mm 10mm;
<style>
:root {
font-size: 14px;
}
@page {
size: A5;
margin: 0mm 10mm;
@page {
@page {
size: 140mm 200mm;
margin: 30px 30px;
@bottom-right{
content: counter(page);
@bottom-right {
content: counter(page);
font-size: 100px;
color: red;
position: relative;
......@@ -78,30 +77,31 @@
}
}
}
section {
break-before: page;
page-break-before: always;
}
section {
break-before: page;
page-break-before: always;
}
p {
line-height: 16px;
margin: 0;
text-indent: 10mm;
p {
line-height: 16px;
margin: 0;
text-indent: 10mm;
/* widows: 3;
/* widows: 3;
orphans: 3; */
}
}
h1{
font-size: 24px;
margin-top: 0;
}
</style>
h1 {
font-size: 24px;
margin-top: 0;
}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<p>Entering that gable-ended Spouter-Inn, you found yourself in a wide, low, straggling entry with old-fashioned wainscots, reminding one of the bulwarks of some condemned old craft. On one side hung a very large oilpainting so thoroughly besmoked, and every way defaced, that in the unequal crosslights by which you viewed it, it was only by diligent study and a series of systematic visits to it, and careful inquiry of the neighbors, that you could any way arrive at an understanding of its purpose. Such unaccountable masses of shades and shadows, that at first you almost thought some ambitious young artist, in the time of the New England hags, had endeavored to delineate chaos bewitched. But by dint of much and earnest contemplation, and oft repeated ponderings, and especially by throwing open the little window towards the back of the entry, you at last come to the conclusion that such an idea, however wild, might not be altogether unwarranted.</p>
......@@ -111,7 +111,7 @@
<p>Crossing this dusky entry, and on through yon low-arched way—cut through what in old times must have been a great central chimney with fireplaces all round—you enter the public room. A still duskier place is this, with such low ponderous beams above, and such old wrinkled planks beneath, that you would almost fancy you trod some old craft’s cockpits, especially of such a howling night, when this corner-anchored old ark rocked so furiously.</p>
<p> On one side stood a long, low, shelf-like table covered with cracked glass cases, filled with dusty rarities gathered from this wide world’s remotest nooks. Projecting from the further angle of the room stands a dark-looking den—the bar—a rude attempt at a right whale’s head. Be that how it may, there stands the vast arched bone of the whale’s jaw, so wide, a coach might almost drive beneath it. Within are shabby shelves, ranged round with old decanters, bottles, flasks; and in those jaws of swift destruction, like another cursed Jonah (by which name indeed they called him), bustles a little withered old man, who, for their money, dearly sells the sailors deliriums and death.</p>
<p>Abominable are the tumblers into which he pours his poison. Though true cylinders without—within, the villanous green goggling glasses deceitfully tapered downwards to a cheating bottom. Parallel meridians rudely pecked into the glass, surround these footpads’ goblets. Fill to THIS mark, and your charge is but a penny; to THIS a penny more; and so on to the full glass—the Cape Horn measure, which you may gulp down for a shilling.</p>
<p>Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of SKRIMSHANDER. I sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied. “But avast,” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer’s blanket, have ye? I s’pose you are goin’ a-whalin’, so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>Upon entering the place I found a number of young seamen gathered about a table, examining by a dim light divers specimens of SKRIMSHANDER. I sought the landlord, and telling him I desired to be accommodated with a room, received for answer that his house was full—not a bed unoccupied. “But avast,” he added, tapping his forehead, “you haint no objections to sharing a harpooneer’s blanket, have ye? I s’pose you are goin’ a-whalin’, so you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>I told him that I never liked to sleep two in a bed; that if I should ever do so, it would depend upon who the harpooneer might be, and that if he (the landlord) really had no other place for me, and the harpooneer was not decidedly objectionable, why rather than wander further about a strange town on so bitter a night, I would put up with the half of any decent man’s blanket.</p>
<p>“I thought so. All right; take a seat. Supper?—you want supper? Supper’ll be ready directly.”</p>
<p>I sat down on an old wooden settle, carved all over like a bench on the Battery. At one end a ruminating tar was still further adorning it with his jack-knife, stooping over and diligently working away at the space between his legs. He was trying his hand at a ship under full sail, but he didn’t make much headway, I thought.</p>
......@@ -181,4 +181,5 @@
</body>
</html>
</html>
\ No newline at end of file
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