Frederic Austin Ogg - "The Old Northwest, A Chronicle of the Ohio Valley and Beyond"

Carolyn Wells - "Marjorie's Vacation"

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James Elroy Flecker - "Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to"

New Philadelphia Book Publisher Highlights Local Talent
Book and Publishing News from Publishers Newswire(tm)

Looking for Child to be on Cover of a New Book, 'The Model Child'
PHILADELPHIA, Pa. -- The Philadelphia literary world will celebrate the launch of two new players today, April 10th: Kay Square Press, a new publishing company focused on Philadelphia-area artists, their stories, and their art; and Kay Square's first release, 'With the Rich and Mighty: Emlen Etting of Philadelphia' (ISBN: 978-0-9815129-0-7), a critical biography by Kenneth C. Kaleta.

FlatSigned Press Alleges Don Imus Remarks Damage Legacy of President Gerald R. Ford
NEW YORK, N.Y. -- Nathan Yungerberg, an accomplished model scout and professional child photographer is launching a nation-wide casting call to find the cover model for his highly anticipated book release, 'The Model Child: A Parents Guide to the Child Modeling Industry' (ISBN: 978-0-9817018-0-6).

Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Life of John Coleridge Patteson




'When their "education is finished," they have no profession, no need
to work to obtain a livelihood for themselves, wives, and children.
They can't all be clergymen, nor all even teachers in such a sense as
to make it a calling and occupation.

'Some wants they have--houses fit for persons who like reading and
writing, a table, a bench, a window becomes necessary. Coral lime
houses would be good for them. They make and wear light clothing,
they wash and cook on new principles, &c.; but these wants are soon
supplied. Only a practical sense of the duty of helping others to
know what they have been taught will keep them from idleness and its
consequences. And how few of us, with no other safeguard against
idleness, would be other than idle!

'Some, I think, may be helped by being associated with us, and with
their friends of the Solomon Isles, New Hebrides, in spending some
months on shore, where they would soon acquire a fair knowledge of
the language, and might be of great use to less advanced friends.
This would be a real work for them. Just as Mission work is the
safeguard of the settled Church, so it must be the safeguard of these
young native Churches.

'No doubt the Missionary spirit infused into the Samoan and
Karotongan Churches kept them living and fruitful. I am trying to
think upon these points.

'If the contrast be too violent between the Mission station with its
daily occupations and the island life, it becomes very difficult for
the natives to perpetuate the habits of the one amidst the
circumstances of the other.

'The habits acquired at Norfolk Island ought to be capable of being
easily transferred to the conditions of the Melanesian isles.

'They ought, I think, to wear (in the hot summer and on week days)
light loose clothing, which could be worn at home; or clothing of the
same shape and fit (though perhaps of warm materials) might be worn.

'The circumstances of the two places must be different, but we must
minimise the difference as much as possible.

'I often think of the steady-going English family, with regular
family prayers, and attendance twice at Church on Sunday, and the
same people spending two months on the Continent. No opportunity is
made for family prayers before the table d'hôte breakfast; and at
least one part of the Sunday is spent in the Roman Catholic
Cathedral, or in a different way from the home use. And if this be
so with good respectable folk among ourselves, what must be the
effect of altered circumstances on our Melanesians?

'It is not easy to keep up the devotional life on shore at home, or
in the islands, or on board ship with the same regularity. And where
the convert must be more dependent than we ought to be on external
opportunities, the difficulty is increased. So if the alteration be
as little as possible, we gain something, we make it easier to our
scholars to perpetuate uninterruptedly the Norfolk Island life.

'To live with them and try to show them how, on their island, to keep
up the religious life unchanged amidst the changed outward
circumstances is a good way, but then we can't live among them very
long, and our example is so often faulty.

'Curiously do these practical difficulties make us realise that there
may really be some benefit in artificial wants; and that probably the
most favourable situation for the development of the human character
is a climate where the necessaries of life are just sufficiently
difficult of production to require steady industry, and yet that
nature should not be so rigorous as to make living so hard a matter
as to occupy the whole attention, and dwarf the mental faculties.'

How remarkable, is the date of the following thoughts, almost like a
foreboding:--

'September 19th, 10 A.M. (to the sisters).--We are drawing near Santa
Cruz, about 100 miles off. How my mind is filled with hopes, not
unmingled with anxiety. It is more than eleven years since we sought
to make an opening here, and as yet we have no scholar. Last year, I
went ashore at a large village called Taive, about seven miles from
the scene of our disaster. Many canoes came to us from that spot,
and we stood in quite close in the vessel, so that people swam off to
us.

'They are all fighting among the various villages and neighbouring
islets of the Reef Archipelago, twenty miles north of the main
island. It is very difficult what to do or how to try to make a
beginning. God will open a door in His own good time. Yet to see
and seize on the opportunity when given is difficult. How these
things make one feel more than ever the need of Divine guidance, the
gift of the Spirit of Wisdom and Counsel and ghostly strength. To
human eyes it seems almost hopeless. Yet other islanders were in a
state almost as hopeless apparently. Only there is a something about
Santa Cruz which is probably very unreal and imaginary, which seems
to present unusual difficulties. In a few days, I may, by God's
goodness, be writing to you again about our visit to the group. And
if the time be come, may God grant us some opening, and grace to use
it aright!

'At Piteni, Matama, Nupani, Analogo, I can talk somewhat to the
people, who are Polynesians, and speak a dialect connected with the
Maori of New Zealand. I think that the people of Indeni (the native
name for Santa Cruz) are also more than half Polynesians; but I don't
know a single sentence of their language properly. I can say nothing
about it. They destroy and distort their organs of pronunciation by
excessive use of the betel-nut and pepper leaf and lime, so that no
word is articulately pronounced. It is very hard to catch the sounds
they make amidst the hubbub on deck or the crowds on shore; yet I
think that if we had two or three lads quietly with us at Norfolk
Island, we should soon make out something.

'Don't think I am depressed by this. I only feel troubled by the
sense that I frequently lose opportunities from indolence and other
faults. I am quite aware that we can do very little to bring about
an introduction to these islanders; and I fully believe that in some
quite unexpected way, or at all events in some way brought about
independently of our efforts, a work will be begun here some day, in
the day when God sees it to be fit and right.


(To the Bishop of Lichfield.)


'September 27th.--Leaving Santa Cruz we came to this group from Ulava
with light fair winds; left Ulava on Saturday at 6 P.M., and sighted
the island, making the west side of Graciosa Bay on the next
Wednesday; sea quite smooth; thermometer reached 92 degrees.

'Sunday.--Very calm, but a light breeze took us into Nukapu. A canoe
came off, I made them understand that it was our day of rest, and
that I would visit them atainu (to-morrow), a curious word. I gave a
few presents, and we slowly sailed on.

'Monday, 6 A.M.--Off Piteni, canoe off, went ashore, low tide, got
into a canoe, and so reached the beach, people well behaved, much
talk of taking lads, quite well understood. The speech is (you
remember) very Maori indeed. There were some nice lads, but no one
came away. Four canoes from Taumaho were here, and two Piteni men
came back from Taumaho while I was on shore.

'At Nukapu at 2.30 P.M. High water, went in easily over the reef by
a short cut, not by our old winding narrow passage. I was greatly
pleased by the people asking me on board, "Where is Bisambe?" "Here
I am." "No, no, the Bisambe tuai (of old). Your mutua (father). Is
he below? Why doesn't he come up with some hatchets?"

'So you see they remember you. A tall middle-aged man, Moto, said
that he was with us in the boat in 1859, and he and I remembered the
one-eyed man who piloted us.

'I went here also into the houses. Here is a quaint place; many
things, not altogether idols, but uncanny, and feared by the people.
Women danced in my honour, people gave small presents, &c., but no
volunteers. I could talk with them with sufficient ease; and took my
time, lying at my ease on a good mat with cane pillow, Anaiteum
fashion. I told them that they had seen on board many little fellows
from many islands; that they need not fear to let their children go;
that I could not spend time and property in coming year by year and
giving presents when they were unwilling to listen to what I said,
but they only made unreal promises, put boys in the boat merely to
take them out again, and so we went away atrakoi.'

There is a little weariness of spirits--not of spirit--in the
contemporaneous words to the home party:--

'I don't know what to write about this voyage. You have heard all
about tropical vegetation, Santa Cruz canoes, houses, customs, &c.
If indeed I could draw these fellows, among whom I was lying on a mat
on Monday; if you could see the fuzzy heads, stained white and red,
the great shell ornaments on the arms, the round plate of shell as
big as a small dinner plate hanging over the chest, the large holes
in the lobes of the ears rilled with perhaps fifteen or twenty rings
of tortoise-shell hung on to one another; the woven scarves and
girdles stained yellow with turmeric and stamped with a black
pattern: then it would make a curious sight for you; and your worthy
brother, much at his ease, lying flat on his back on two or three
mats, talking to the people about his great wish to take away some of
the jolly little fellows to whom he was giving fish-hooks, would no
doubt be very "interesting." But really all this has become so
commonplace, that I can't write about it with any freshness. The
volcano in this group, Tenakulu, is now active, and was a fine sight
at night, though the eruption is not continuous as it was in 1859.

'October 9th--Near Ambrym [to the Bishop]. Some people from Aruas,
the large western bay of Vanua Lava, had been taken by force to
Queensland or Fiji. The natives simply speak of "a ship of Sydney."

'Wednesday.--Aroa and Matlavo. 'Henry Tagalana and Joanna and their
baby Elizabeth, William Pasvorang and Lydia, and six others, all
baptized, and four communicants among them, had spent five weeks on
shore; a very nice set. Six of them lived together at Aroa, had
regular morning and evening prayers, sang their hymns, and did what
they could, talking to their people. Codrington went over in a
canoe, and spent four days with them, much pleased. We brought three
scholars for George from thence.

'Thursday, Mota.--Codrington says the time is come, in his opinion,
for some steps to be taken to further the movement in Mota. Grown-up
people much changed, improved, some almost to be regarded as
catechumens.

'We left Mota, bringing all that were to come; indeed, we scarcely
know what it is nowadays to lose a boy or man--a great blessing.
There had been another visit of eleven canoes of Tikopians; friendly,
though unable to converse, and promising to return again in two
months.

'October 11th.--A topsail schooner in sight, between Ambrym and
Paama--one of those kidnapping vessels. I have any amount of (to me)
conclusive evidence of downright kidnapping. But I don't think I
could prove any case in a Sydney Court. They have no names painted
on some of their vessels, and the natives can't catch nor pronounce
the names of the white men on board. They describe their appearance
accurately, and we have more than suspicions about some of these
fellows.

'The planters in Queensland and Fiji, who create the demand for
labourers, say that they don't like the kidnapping any more than I
do. They pay occasionally from £6 to £12 for an "imported labourer,"
and they don't want to have him put into their hands in a sullen
irritable state of mind.'

Touching at Nengone, the Bishop saw Mr. Creagh, who had recently
visited New Caledonia, whither Basset, the poor chief who had been
banished to Tahiti for refusing to receive a French priest, had been
allowed to return, on the Emperor Napoleon forbidding interference
with Protestant missionaries or their converts.

Wadrokala and his wife and child were brought away, making up a
number of 65 black passengers, besides the 60 scholars already at
Norfolk Island. The weather throughout the voyage had been unusually
still, with frequent calms, the sea with hardly any swell. And this
had been very happy for the Bishop; but he was less well than when he
had left Taurarua, and was unequal to attending the General Synod in
New Zealand, far more so to another campaign in Australia, though he
cherished the design of going to see after the condition of the
labourers in Fiji.

He finishes his long letter to his former Primate:--

It is perhaps cowardly to say that I am thankful that I am not a
clergyman in England. I am not the man even in a small parish to
stand up and fight against so many many-headed monsters. I should
give in, and shirk the contest. The more I pray that you may have
strength to endure it. I don't think I was ever pugnacious in the
way of controversy; and I am very very thankful to be out of it.'

Indeed, the tone of the references to Church matters at home had
become increasingly cautious; and one long letter to Mrs. Martyn he
actually tore up, lest it should do harm. His feeling more and more
was to wish for patience and forbearance, and to deprecate violent
words or hasty actions--looking from his hermit life upon all the
present distress more as a phase of Church history that would develop
into some form of good, and perhaps hardly sensible of the urgency of
the struggle and defence. For peace and shelter from the strife of
tongues was surely one of the compensating blessings conferred on
him. But, as all his companions agree, he was never the same man
again after his illness. There was a lower level of spirits and of
energy, a sensitiveness to annoyances, and an indisposition to active
exertion, which distressed him.

His day began as early as ever, and was mapped out as before, for
classes of all kinds, Hebrew and reading; but he seldom left his
room, except for Chapel and meals, being unable to take much out-door
exercise. He did not see so much of his elder scholars as before,
chiefly because the very large number of newer pupils made it
necessary to employ them more constantly; but he never failed to give
each of them some instruction for a short time every day, though with
more effort, for indeed almost everything had become a burthen to
him. Mr. Codrington's photograph taken at this time shows how much
changed and aged he had become. The quiet in which he now lived
resulted in much letter-writing, taking up correspondences that had
slumbered in more busy times, as his mind flew back to old friends:
though, indeed, the letters given in the preceding Memoir must not be
taken by any means to represent the numbers he wrote. When he speaks
of sending thirty-five by one mail, perhaps only one or two have come
into my hands; and of those only such portions are of course taken as
illustrate his life, work, character, and opinions without trenching
on the reserve due to survivors. Thus multitudes of affectionate
letters, participating in the joys and sorrows of his brother, his
cousins and friends, can necessarily find no place here; though the
idea of his character is hardly complete without direct evidence of
the unbroken or more truly increasing sympathy he had with those whom
he had not met for sixteen years, and his love for his brother's wife
and children whom he had never seen.

Soon after his return to Norfolk Island came a packet with a three
months' accumulation of home despatches. He read and replied in his
old conversational way, with occasionally a revelation of his deep
inner self:--

'I have been thinking, dear old Fan, about your words, "there would
be a good deal to give and take if you came home for a time;" less
perhaps now than before I was somewhat tamed by my illness. I see
more of the meaning of that petition, "from all blindness of heart,
from pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy; and from all uncharitableness."

'Alas! you don't know what a misspent life I looked back upon, never
losing hold, God be praised, of the sure belief in His promises of
pardon and acceptance in Christ. I certainly saw that a want of
sympathy, an indifference to the feelings of others, want of
consideration, selfishness, in short, lay at the bottom of very much
that I mourned over.

'There is one thing, that I don't mention as an excuse for a fault
which really does exist, but simply as a fact, viz., that being
always, even now, pressed for time, I write very abruptly, and so
seem to be much more positive and dogmatic than I hope, and really
think, is the case. I don't remember ever writing you a letter in
which I was able to write but as I would have talked out the matter
under discussion in all its bearings. This arises partly from
impatience, my pen won't go fast enough; but as I state shortly my
opinion, without going through the reasons which lead me to adopt it,
no doubt much that I say seems to be without reason, and some of it
no doubt is.'

I need make no excuse for giving as much as possible of the
correspondence of these last few months, when--though the manner of
his actual departure was violent, there was already the shadow, as it
were, of death upon him.

To Sir J. T. Coleridge the letter was:--


'December 9, 1870.

'My dearest Uncle,--How long it is since I wrote to you!... And yet
it is true that I think more often of you than of anyone, except Jem,
Joan and Fan. In fact, your name meets me so often in one way or
another--in papers from England, and much more in books continually
in use, that I could not fail to think of you if I had not the true,
deep love that brings up the old familiar face and voice so often
before my eyes....

'I wish I could talk with you, or rather hear you answer my many
questions on so many points. I get quite bewildered sometimes. It
is hard to read the signs of our times; so hard to see where charity
ends and compromise begins, where the old opinion is to be stoutly
maintained, and where the new mode of thought is to be accepted. I
suppose there always was some little difference among divines as to
"fundamentals," and no ready-made solution exists of each difficult
question as it emerges.

'There is reason for that being so, because it is part of our duty
and trial to exercise our own power of discretion and judgment. But
so much now seems to be left to individuals, and so little is
accepted on authority. In Church matters I have for years thought
Synods to be the one remedy. If men meet and talk over a difficulty,
there is a probability of men's understanding each other's motives,
and thus preserving charity. If one-twentieth part of a diocese
insists upon certain observances which nineteen-twentieths repudiate,
it seems clear that the very small minority is put out of court. Yet
how often the small minority contains more salt than the large
majority!

'I know indeed I am speaking honestly, that I am not worthy to
understand dear Mr. Keble on many points. "The secret of our Lord"
is with such men, and we fail to understand him, nous autres I mean,
outside the sanctuary. Yet there is, I must confess it to you, my
dear uncle, a something about his book on Eucharistic Adoration which
has the character to me of foreign rather than of English divinity.
I don't want to be exclusive, far from it. I don't want to be
Anglican versus Primitive; but yet somehow, to me, there is a
something which belongs more to French or Italian than to English
character about some parts of the book. It is no doubt because I
can't see what to his eye was plain.'

[An account of the voyage follows as before given.] 'The islanders
are beginning to find out the true character of the many small
vessels cruising among them, taking away people to the plantations in
Queensland, Fiji, &c. So now force is substituted for deceit.
Natives are enticed on board under promises (by signs of course, for
nowhere can they talk to them) of presents, tempted down below into
the hold to get tomahawks, beads, biscuit, &c., then the hatches are
clapped on, and they are stolen away. I have to try and write a
statement about it, which is the last thing I can do properly.'

[Then the history of the weddings and baptisms.] 'There is another
pleasant feature to be noticed. The older scholars, almost all of
whom are Banks Islanders, talk and arrange among themselves plans for
helping natives of the islands. Thus Edward Wogale, of Mota,
volunteers to go to Anudha, 300 or 400 miles off, to stay there with
his friend Charles Sapinamba of that island, to aid him in working
among his people. Edward is older and knows more than Charles. They
talk in Mota, but Edward will soon have to speak the tongue of Anudha
when living there. B---- and his wife offer to go to Santa Maria,
Robert Pantatun and his wife to go to Matlavo, John Nonono to go to
Savo, and Andrew Lalena also. This is very comforting to me. It is
bona fide giving up country and home. It is indicative of a real
desire to make known the Gospel to other lands. So long as they will
do this, so long I think we may have the blessed assurance that God's
Holy Spirit is indeed working in their hearts. Dear fellows! It
makes me very thankful.

'My clerical staff is increased by a Mr. Jackson, long a friend and
supporter of the Mission....

'Atkin is a steady-going fellow, most conscientious, with a good
head-piece of his own, diligent and thoughtful rather than quick. He
and Bice read Hebrew daily with me, and they will have soon a very
fair knowledge of it. Joe Atkin knows his Greek Testament very
fairly indeed: Ellicott, Trench, Alford, Wordsworth and others are in
use among us.

'I wish you could see some of these little fellows. It is, I
suppose, natural that an old bachelor should have pleasure in young
things about him, ready-made substitutes for children of his own. I
do like them. With English children, save and except Pena, I never
was at my ease, partly I think from a worse than foolish self-
consciousness about so ugly a fellow not being acceptable to
children. Anyhow, I don't feel shy with Melanesians; and I do like
the little things about me, even the babies come to me away from
almost anyone, chiefly, perhaps, because they are acquainted at a
very early age with a corner of my room where dwells a tin of
biscuits.

'To this day I shut up and draw into my shell when any white specimen
of humanity looms in sight. How seldom do one's natural tastes
coincide with one's work. And I may be deceiving myself all along.
It is true that I have a very small acquaintance with men; not so
very small an acquaintance with men passed from this world who live
in their books; and some living authors I read--our English
Commentators are almost all alive.

'I think that I read too exclusively one class of books. I am not
drawn out of this particular kind of reading, which is alone really
pleasant and delightful to me, by meeting with persons who discuss
other matters. So I read divinity almost if not quite exclusively.
I make dutiful efforts to read a bit of history or poetry, but it
won't do. My relaxation is in reading some old favourite, Jackson,
Hooker, Jeremy Taylor, &c. Not that I know much about them, for my
real studying time is occupied in translating and teaching. And so I
read these books, and others some German, occasionally (but seldom)
French: Reuss, for example, and Guizot. And on the whole I read a
fair amount of Hebrew; though even now it is only the narrative books
that I read, so to say, rapidly and with ease.

'I wish some of our good Hebrew scholars were sound Poly- and
Melanesian scholars also. I believe it to be quite true that the
mode of thought of a South Sea islander resembles very closely that
of a Semitic man. And their state of mental knowledge or ignorance,
too. It is certainly a mistake to make the Hebrew language do the
work of one of our elaborated European languages, the products of
thoughts and education and literary knowledge which the Hebrew knew
nothing of. A Hebrew grammar constructed on the principle of a Greek
or a Latin grammar is simply a huge anachronism.

'How did the people of the time of Moses, or David, or Jeremiah
think? is the first question. How did they express their thoughts?
is the second. The grammar is but the mode adapted in speech for
notifying and communicating thoughts. That the Jew did not think,
consequently did not speak, like a European is self-evident. Where
are we to find people, children in thought, keenly alive to the outer
world, impressible, emotional, but devoid of the power of abstract
thought, to whom long involved processes of thought and long involved
sentences of speech are unknown? Consequently, the contrivances for
stringing together dependent clauses don't exist. Then some wiseacre
of an 18th or 19th century German writes a grammar on the assumption
that a paulo-post-futurum is necessarily to be provided for the
unfortunate Israelite who thought and talked child's language. Now,
we Melanesians habitually think and speak such languages. I assure
you the Hebrew narrative viewed from the Melanesian point of thought
is wonderfully graphic and lifelike. The English version is dull and
lifeless in comparison. No modern Hebrew scholar agrees with any
other as to the mode of construing Hebrew. Anyone makes anything out
of those unfortunately misused tenses. Delitzsch, Ewald, Gesenius,
Perowne, Thrupp, Kay too, give no rule by which the scholar is to
know from the grammar whether the time is past, present, or future,
i.e., whether such and such a verse is a narrative of a past fact or
the prophecy of a future one. It is much a matter of exegesis; but
exegesis not based on grammar is worth very little.