Pierre Loti - "Madame Chrysantheme, v2"

Flavius Josephus - "The Life of Flavius Josephus"

John Bunyan - "The Holy War"

Anthony Trollope - "The Parson's Daughter of Oxney Colne"

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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: Nature\'s Serial Story

E >> E. P. Roe >> Nature\'s Serial Story




"Burt," said his father, looking at him over his spectacles, "you've been
getting yourself into some scrape as sure as the world. That's right,
Amy; you laugh at him well, and--"

"A truce!" exclaimed Burt. "If I'm in a scrape, I don't propose to get
out of it, but rather to make you all share in it. As Amy says, her
four-leaved clover will prove a true prophet, green as it looks. I now
beg off, and shall prove that my scrape has not spoiled my appetite."

"Well," said Leonard, "I never could find any four-leaved clovers, but
I've had good luck, haven't I, Maggie?"

"You had indeed, when you came courting me."

"How about Maggie's luck?" asked Burt.

"I am satisfied," began Webb, "that I could develop acres of four-leaved
clover. Some plants have this peculiarity. I have counted twenty-odd on
one root. If seed from such a plant were sown, and then seed selected
again from the new plants most characterized by this 'sport,' I believe
the trait would become fixed, and we could have a field of four-leaved
clover. New varieties of fruits, vegetables, and flowers are often thus
developed from chance 'sports' or abnormal specimens."

"Just hear Webb," said Amy. "He would turn this ancient symbol of fortune
into a marketable commodity."

"Pardon me; I was saying what might be done, not what I proposed to do. I
found this emblem of good chance by chance, and I picked it with the
'wish' attacked to the stem. Thus to the utmost I have honored the
superstition, and you have only to make your wish to carry it out fully."

"My wishes are in vain, and all the four-leaved clovers in the world
wouldn't help them. I wish I was a scientific problem, a crop that
required great skill to develop, a rare rose that all the rose-maniacs
were after, a new theory that required a great deal of consideration and
investigation, and accompanied with experiments that needed much
observation, and any number of other t-i-o-n-shuns. Then I shouldn't be
left alone evenings by the great inquiring mind of the family. Burt's
going away, and, as his father says, has got into a scrape; so what's to
become of me?"

They all arose from the table amid general laughter, of which Webb and
Burt were equally the objects, and on the faces of those not in the
secret there was much perplexed curiosity.

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Maggie, "if Webb should concentrate his mind
on you as you suggest, it would end by his falling in love with you."

This speech was received with shouts of merriment, and Amy felt the color
rushing into her face, but she scouted the possibility. "The idea of
Webb's falling in love with any one!" she cried. "I should as soon expect
to see old Storm King toppling over."

"Still waters run--" began Maggie, but a sudden flash from Webb's eyes
checked her.

"Deep, do they?" retorted Amy. "Some still waters don't run at all. Not
for the world would I have Webb incur the dreadful risk that you suggest"

"I think I'm almost old enough to take care of myself, sister Amy, and I
promise you to try to be as entertaining as such an old fellow can be. As
to falling in love with you, that happened long ago--the first evening
you came, when you stood in the doorway blushing and frightened at the
crowd of your new relations."

"Haven't I got over being afraid of them remarkably? I never was a bit
afraid of you even at first. It took me a long time, however, to find out
how learned you were, and what deep subjects are required to interest
you. Alas, I shall never be a deep subject."

"Well, my dear," said Mr. Clifford, putting his arm around her, "you have
come like sunshine into the old home, and we old people can't help
wishing you may never go out of it while we are alive."

"I'm not a bit jealous, Amy," said Maggie.

"I think it's time this mutual admiration society broke up," the young
girl said, with tears trembling in her eyes. "When I think of it all, and
what a home I've found, I'm just silly enough to cry. I think it's time,
Burt, that you obtained your father's and mother's forgiveness or
blessing, or whatever it is to be."

"You are right, Amy, as you always are. Mother, will you take my arm? and
if you will accompany us, sir (to his father), you shall learn the
meaning of Amy's four-leaved clover."

"You needn't think you are going to get Amy without my consent," Leonard
called after him. "I've known her longer than any of you--ever since she
was a little girl at the depot."

Amy and Webb began laughing so heartily at the speaker that he went away
remarking that he could pick apples if he couldn't solve riddles.

"Come up to my room, Amy," said Maggie, excitedly.

"No, no, Mother Eve, I shall go to my own room, and dress for company."

"Oh, I guess your secret!" cried Maggie. "Burt said something more than
good-by to Miss Hargrove last evening."

Amy would not answer, and the sound of a mirthful snatch of song died
musically away in the distance.

"Now, Mr. Webb," Maggie resumed, "what did _you_ mean by that ominous
flash from your cavern-like eyes?"

"It meant that Amy has probably been satisfied with one lover in the
family and its unexpected result. I don't wish our relations embarrassed
by the feeling that she must be on her guard against another."

"Oh, I see, you don't wish her to be on her guard."

"Dear Maggie, whatever you may see, appear blind. Heaven only knows what
you women don't see."

"That's good policy, Webb. I'll be your ally now. I've suspected you for
some time, but thought Burt and Amy were committed to each other."

"Amy does not suspect anything, and she must not. She is not ready for
the knowledge, and may never be. All the help I ask is to keep her
unconscious. I've been expecting you would find me out, for you married
ladies have had an experience which doubles your insight, and I'm glad of
the chance to caution you. Amy is happy in loving me as a brother. She
shall never be unhappy in this home if I can prevent it."

Maggie entered heart and soul into Webb's cause, for he was a great
favorite with her. He was kind to her children, and in a quiet way taught
them almost as much as they learned at school. He went to his work with
mind much relieved, for she and his mother were the only ones that he
feared might surmise his feeling, and by manner or remark reveal it to
Amy, thus destroying their unembarrassed relations, and perhaps his
chance to win the girl's heart.




CHAPTER LVII

OCTOBER HUES AND HARVESTS


Burt's interview with his parents, their mingled surprise, pleasure, and
disappointment, and their deep sympathy, need not be dwelt upon. Mr.
Clifford was desirous of first seeing Amy, and satisfying himself that
she did not in the slightest degree feel herself slighted or treated in
bad faith, but his wife, with her low laugh, said: "Rest assured, father,
Burt is right. He has won nothing more from Amy than sisterly love,
though I had hoped that he might in time. After all, perhaps, it is best.
We shall keep Amy, and gain a new daughter that we have already learned
to admire and love."

Burt's mind was too full of the one great theme to remember what Mr.
Hargrove had said about the Western land, and when at last Miss Hargrove
came to say good-by, with a blushing consciousness quite unlike her usual
self-possession, he was enchanted anew, and so were all the household.
The old people's reception seemed like a benediction; Amy banished the
faintest trace of doubt by her mirthful ecstasies; and after their
mountain experience there was no ice to break between Gertrude and
Maggie.

The former was persuaded to defer her trip to New York until the morrow,
and so Amy would have her nutting expedition after all. When Leonard came
down to dinner, Burt took Gertrude's hand, and said, "Now, Len, this is
your only chance to give your consent. You can't have any dinner till you
do."

His swift, deprecating look at Amy's laughing face reassured him. "Well,"
he said, slowly, as if trying to comprehend it all, "I do believe I'm
growing old. My eyesight must be failing sadly. When _did_ all this take
place?"

"Your eyesight is not to blame, Leonard," said his wife, with much
superiority. "It's because you are only a man."

"That's all I ever pretended to be." Then, with a dignity that almost
surprised Gertrude, he, as eldest brother, welcomed her in simple,
heartfelt words.

At the dinner-table Miss Hargrove referred to the Western land. Burt laid
down his knife and fork, and exclaimed, "I declare, I forgot all about
it!"

Miss Hargrove laughed heartily as she said, "A high tribute to me!" and
then made known her father's statement that the Clifford tract in the
West adjoined his own, that it would soon be very valuable, and that he
was interested in the railroad approaching it. "I left him," she
concluded, "poring over his maps, and he told me to say to you, sir" (to
Mr. Clifford), "that he wished to see you soon."

"How about the four-leaved clover now?" cried Amy.

In the afternoon they started for the chestnut-trees. Webb carried a light
ladder, and both he and Burt had dressed themselves in close-fitting
flannel suits for climbing. The orchard, as they passed through it,
presented a beautiful autumn picture. Great heaps of yellow and red cheeked
apples were upon the ground; other varieties were in barrels, some headed
up and ready for market, while Mr. Clifford was giving the final cooperage
to other barrels as fast as they were filled.

"Father can still head up a barrel better than any of us," Leonard
remarked to Miss Hargrove.

"Well, my dear," said the old gentleman, "I've had over half a century's
experience."

"It's time I obtained some idea of rural affairs," said Gertrude to Webb.
"There seem to be many different kinds of apples here. Can you easily
tell them apart?"

"Yes, as easily as you know different dress fabrics at Arnold's. Those
umbrella-shaped trees are Rhode Island greenings; those that are rather
long and slender branching are yellow bell-flowers; and those with short
and stubby branches and twigs are the old-fashioned dominies. Over there
are Newtown pippins. Don't you see how green the fruit is? It will not be
in perfection till next March. Not only a summer, but an autumn and a
winter are required to perfect that superb apple, but then it becomes one
of Nature's triumphs. Some of those heaps on the ground will furnish
cider and vinegar. Nuts, cider, and a wood fire are among the privations
of a farmer's life."

"Farming, as you carry it on, appears to me a fine art. How very full
some of the trees are! and others look as if they had been half picked
over."

"That is just what has been done. The largest and ripest apples are taken
off first, and the rest of the fruit improves wonderfully in two or three
weeks. By this course we greatly increase both the quality and the bulk
of the crop."

"You are very happy in your calling, Webb. How strange it seems for me to
be addressing you as Webb!"

"It does not seem so strange to me; nor does it seem strange that I am
talking to you in this way. I soon recognized that you were one of those
fortunate beings in whom city life had not quenched nature."

They had fallen a little behind the others, and were out of ear-shot.

"I think," she said, hesitatingly and shyly, "that I had an ally in you
all along."

He laughed and replied, "At one time I was very dubious over my
expedition to Fort Putnam."

"I imagine that in suggesting that expedition you put in two words for
yourself."

"Call it even," he said.

"I wish you might be as happy as I am. I'm not blind either, and I wonder
that Amy is so unconscious."

"I hope she will remain so until she awakens as naturally as from sleep.
She has never had a brother, and as such I try to act toward her. My one
thought is her happiness, and, perhaps, I can secure it in no other way.
I feared long since that you had guessed my secret, and am grateful that
you have not suggested it to Amy. Few would have shown so much delicacy
and consideration."

"I'm not sure that you are right, Webb. If Amy knew of your feeling, it
would influence her powerfully. She misjudges you now."

"Yes, it was necessary that she should misunderstand me, and think of me
as absorbed in things remote from her life. The knowledge you suggest
might make her very sad, for there never was a gentler-hearted girl. You
have remarkable tact. Please use it to prevent the constraint which might
arise between us."

Burt now joined them with much pretended jealousy, and they soon reached
the trees, which, under the young men's vigorous blows, rained down the
prickly burrs, downy chestnuts, and golden leaves. Blue jays screamed
indignantly from the mountain-side, and squirrels barked their protest at
the inroads made upon their winter stores. As the night approached the
air grew chilly, and Webb remarked that frost was coming at last. He
hastened home before the others to cover up certain plants that might be
sheltered through the first cold snap. The tenderer ones had long since
been taken up and prepared for winter blooming.

To Amy's inquiry where Johnnie was, Maggie had replied that she had gone
nutting by previous engagement with Mr. Alvord, and as the party returned
in the glowing evening they met the oddly assorted friends with their
baskets well filled. In the eyes of the recluse there was a gentler
expression, proving that Johnnie's and Nature's ministry had not been
wholly in vain. He glanced swiftly from Burt to Miss Hargrove, then at
Amy, and a faint suggestion of a smile hovered about his mouth. He was
about to leave them abruptly when Johnnie interposed, pleading: "Mr.
Alvord, don't go home till I pick you some of your favorite heart's-ease,
as you call my pansies. They have grown to be as large and beautiful as
they were last spring. Do you know, in the hot weather they were almost
as small as johnny-jumpers? but I wouldn't let 'em be called by that
name."

"They will ever be heart's-ease to me, Johnnie-doubly so when you give
them," and he followed her to the garden.

In the evening a great pitcher of cider fresh from the press, flanked by
dishes of golden fall pippins and grapes, was placed on the table. The
young people roasted chestnuts on hickory coals, and every one, even to
the invalid, seemed to glow with a kindred warmth and happiness. The city
belle contrasted the true home-atmosphere with the grand air of a city
house, and thanked God for her choice. At an early hour she said good-by
for a brief time and departed with Burt. He was greeted with stately
courtesy by Mrs. Hargrove herself, whom her husband and the prospective
value of the Western land had reconciled to the momentous event. Burt and
Gertrude were formally engaged, and he declared his intention of
accompanying her to the city to procure the significant diamond.

After the culminating scenes of Burt's little drama, life went on very
serenely and quietly at the Clifford home. Out of school hours Alf,
Johnnie, and Ned vied with the squirrels in gathering their hoard of
various nuts. The boughs in the orchard grew lighter daily. Frost came as
Webb had predicted, and dahlias, salvias, and other flowers, that had
flamed and glowed till almost the middle of October, turned black in one
morning's sun. The butternut-trees had lost their foliage, and countless
leaves were fluttering down in every breeze like many-hued gems. The
richer bronzed colors of the oak were predominating in the landscape, and
only the apple, cherry, and willow trees about the house kept up the
green suggestion of summer.




CHAPTER LVIII

THE MOONLIGHT OMEN


Webb permitted no marked change in his manner. He toiled steadily with
Leonard in gathering the fall produce and in preparing for winter, but
Amy noticed that his old preoccupied look was passing away. Daily he
appeared to grow more genial and to have more time and thought for her.
With increasing wonder she learned the richness and fulness of his mind.
In the evenings he read aloud to them all with his strong, musical
intonation, in which the author's thought was emphasized so clearly that
it seemed to have double the force that it possessed when she read the
same words herself. He found time for occasional rambles and horseback
excursions, and was so companionable during long rainy days that they
seemed to her the brightest of the week. Maggie smiled to herself and saw
that Webb's spell was working. He was making himself so quietly and
unobtrusively essential to Amy that she would find half of her life gone
if she were separated from him.

Gertrude returned for a short time, and then went to the city for the
winter. Burt's orbit was hard to calculate. He was much in New York, and
often with Mr. Hargrove, from whom he was receiving instructions in
regard to his Western expedition. That gentleman's opinion of Burt's
business capacity grew more favorable daily, for the young fellow now
proposed to show that he meant to take life in earnest. "If this lasts he
will make a trusty young lieutenant," the merchant thought, "and I can
make his fortune while furthering mine." Burt had plenty of brains and
good executive ability to carry out the wiser counsels of others, while
his easy, vivacious manner won him friends and acceptance everywhere.

It was arranged, after his departure, that Amy should visit her friend in
the city, and Webb looked forward to her absence with dread and
self-depreciation, fearing that he should suffer by contrast with the
brilliant men of society, and that the quiet country life would seem
dull, indeed, thereafter.

Before Amy went on this visit there came an Indian summer morning in
November, that by its soft, dreamy beauty wooed every one out of doors.
"Amy," said Webb, after dinner, "suppose we drive over to West Point and
return by moonlight." She was delighted with the idea, and they were soon
slowly ascending the mountain. He felt that this was his special
opportunity, not to break her trustful unconsciousness, but to reveal his
power to interest her and make impressions that should be enduring. He
exerted every faculty to please, recalling poetic and legendary allusions
connected with the trees, plants, and scenes by which they were passing.

"Oh, Webb, how you idealize nature!" she said. "You make every object
suggest something fanciful, beautiful, or entertaining. How have you
learned to do it?"

"As I told you last Easter Sunday--how long ago it seems--if I have any
power for such idealization it is largely through your influence. My
knowledge was much like the trees as they then appeared. I was prepared
for better things, but the time for them had not yet come. I had studied
the material world in a material sort of way, employing my mind with
facts that were like the bare branches and twigs. You awakened in me a
sense of the beautiful side of nature. How can I explain it? Who can
explain the rapid development of foliage and flowers when all is ready?"

"But, Webb, you appeared, during the summer, to go back to your old
materiality worse than ever. You made me feel that I had no power to do
anything for you. You treated me as if I were your very little sister who
would have to go to school a few years before I could be your companion."

"Those were busy days," he replied, laughing. "Besides," he added,
hesitatingly, "Burt was at one time inclined to be jealous. Of course, it
was very absurd in him, but I suppose lovers are always a little absurd."

"I should think it was absurd. I saw whither Burt was drifting long
ago--at the time of the great flood which swept away things of more value
than my silly expectations. What an unsophisticated little goose I was! I
suppose Johnnie expects to be married some day, and in much the same way
I looked forward to woman's fate; and since you all seemed to wish that
it should be Burt, I thought, 'Why not?" Wasn't it lucky for Burt, and,
indeed, for all of you, that I was not a grown-up and sentimental young
woman? Mr. Hargrove, by uniting his interests with yours in the West,
will make your fortunes, and Burt will bring you a lovely sister. It
pleases me to see how Gertrude is learning to like you. I used to be
provoked with her at first, because she didn't appreciate you. Do you
know, I think you ought to write? You could make people fall in love with
nature. Americans don't care half as much for out-door life and pursuits
as the English. It seems to me that city life cannot compare with that of
the country."

"You may think differently after you have been a few weeks in Gertrude's
elegant home."

They had paused again on the brow of Cro' Nest, and were looking out on
the wide landscape. "No, Webb," she said; "her home, no doubt, is
elegant, but it is artificial. This is simple and grand, and to-day, seen
through the soft haze, is lovely to me beyond all words. I honestly half
regret that I am going to town. Of course, I shall enjoy myself--I always
do with Gertrude--but the last few quiet weeks have been so happy and
satisfying that I dread any change."

"Think of the awful vacuum that your absence will make in the old home!"

"Well, I'm a little glad; I want to be missed. But I shall write to you
and tell you of all the frivolous things we are doing. Besides, you must
come to see me as often as you can."

"I certainly shall."

They saw evening parade, the moon rising meanwhile over Sugarloaf
Mountain, and filling the early twilight with a soft radiance. The music
seemed enchanting, for their hearts were attuned to it. As the long line
of cadets shifted their guns from "carry arms" to "shoulder arms" with
instantaneous action, Webb said that the muskets sent out a shivering
sound like that of a tree almost ready to fall under the last blows of an
axe.

Webb felt that should he exist millions of ages he should never forget the
ride homeward. The moon looked through the haze like a veiled beauty, and
in its softened light Amy's pure, sweet profile was endowed with ethereal
beauty. The beech trees, with their bleached leaves still clinging to them,
were almost spectral, and the oaks in their bronzed foliage stood like
black giants by the roadside. There were suggestive vistas of light and
shadow that were full of mystery, making it easy to believe that on a night
like this the mountain was haunted by creatures as strange as the fancy
could shape. The girl at his side was a mystery. Viewless walls incased her
spirit. What were her hidden and innermost thoughts? The supreme gift of a
boundless love overflowed his heart to his very lips. She was so near, and
the spell of her loveliness so strong, that at times he felt that he must
give it expression, but he ever restrained himself. His words might bring
pain and consternation to the peaceful face. She was alone with him, and
there would be no escape should he speak now. No; he had resolved to wait
till her heart awoke by its own impulses, and he would keep his purpose
even through the witchery of that moonlight drive. "How strangely isolated
we are," he thought, "that such feeling as mine can fill my very soul with
its immense desire, and she not be aware of anything but my quiet,
fraternal manner!"

As they were descending the home slope of the mountain they witnessed a
rare and beautiful sight. A few light clouds had gathered around the
moon, and these at last opened in a rift. The rays of light through the
misty atmosphere created the perfect colors of a rainbow, and this
phenomenon took the remarkable form of a shield, its base resting upon
one cloud, and its point extending into a little opening in the cloud
above.

"Oh, what a perfect shield!" cried Amy. "Was there ever anything so
strange and lovely?"

Webb checked his horse, and they looked at the vision with wonder. "I
never saw anything to equal that," said Webb.

"Is it an omen, Webb?" she asked, turning a little from him that she
might look upward, and leaning on his shoulder with the unconsciousness
of a child.

"Let us make it one, dear sister Amy," he said, drawing her nearer to
him. "Let it remind you, as you recall it, that as far as I can I will
ever shield you from every evil of life." As he spoke the rainbow colors
became wonderfully distinct, and then faded slowly away. Her head drooped
lower on his shoulder, and she said, dreamily:

"It seems to me that I never was so happy before in my life as I am now.
You are so different, and can be so much to me, now that your old absurd
constraint is gone. Oh, Webb, you used to make me so unhappy! You made me
feel that you had found me out--how little I knew, and that it was a bore
to have to talk with me and explain. I know I'm not highly educated. How
could I be? I went everywhere with papa, and he always appeared to think
of me as a little girl. And then during the last year or two of his life
he was so ill that I did not do much else than watch over him with fear
and trembling, and try to nurse him and beguile the hours that were so
full of pain and weakness. But I'm not contented to be ignorant, and you
can teach me so much. I fairly thrill with excitement and feeling
sometimes when you are reading a fine or beautiful thing. If I can feel
that way I can't be stupid, can I?"