Norman Lindsay - "The Magic Pudding"

Sydney G. Fisher - "The Quaker Colonies"

Catherine Helen Spence(1825 1910) - "Mr. Hogarth's Will"

John S. C. Abbott - "Napoleon Bonaparte"

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: Opening a Chestnut Burr

E >> Edward Payson Roe >> Opening a Chestnut Burr




"Special Providence!" said Annie's loud neighbor, contemptuously. "A
grown man is very weak-minded to believe in any Providence whatever."

There was a shocked, pained expression on many faces, and Annie's eyes
flashed with indignation. She turned to Hunting, expecting him to
resent such an insult to their faith, but saw only a cold sneer on his
face. Hunting was decidedly English in his style, and would travel
around the world and never speak to a stranger, or make an
acquaintance, if he could help it. Then, instinctively, she turned to
Gregory. He was looking fixedly at the man, whose manner had attracted
general attention. But he only said, "Then I am very weak-minded."

There was a general expression of pleased surprise and sympathy on the
faces of those who understood his reply, while the captain stared at
him in some astonishment.

"I beg your pardon, sir," said the man; "I meant nothing personal. It
was only a rather blunt way of saying that I didn't believe in any
such things myself."

"I give you credit for your honesty, but some of us do."

"Then you pretend to be a Christian?"

"I should not _pretend_ to be one under any circumstances," said
Gregory, with the perfection of quiet dignity, "and I am very sorry to
say that I am not so favored. But I have full belief in a Providence,
both special and general."

"I like your honesty, too," said the man, seemingly anxious for an
argument. "By the word 'pretend' I only meant claim, or assert. But it
seems to me that the facts in the case are all against your belief. I
find nothing but law in the universe. You might as well say that this
ship is run by special Providence, when, in fact, it is run by
accurately gauged machinery, system, and rules."

"Now your argument is lame," said the captain, laughing. "We have
plenty of good machinery, system, and rules aboard, but if I wasn't
around, looking after everything all the time, as a special
Providence, I'm afraid you'd find salt water before Liverpool."

A general laugh followed this sally, and Gregory said: "And so I
believe that the Divine Providence superintends His own laws and
system. I think my friend the captain has given a most happy
illustration of the truth, and I had no idea he was so good a
theologian."

"That's not an argument," said the man, considerably crestfallen.
"That's only a joke."

"By the way, Mr. Gregory, it seems to me that your views have changed
since you crossed with me last," remarked the captain.

"I frankly admit they have," was the prompt reply. "Perhaps I can
explain myself by the following question: If you find, by a careful
observation, that you are heading your ship the wrong way, what do you
do?"

"Put her about on the right course."

"That is just what I have tried to do, sir. I think my meaning is
plain?"

"Nothing could be clearer, and I'd rather be aboard now than when you
were on the old tack."

Annie gave Gregory a glance of glad, grateful approval that warmed his
heart like sunshine.

Hunting said, enviously, _sotto voce_, "I think such conversation at a
public table wretched taste."

"I cannot agree with you," said Annie, decidedly; "but, granting it,
Mr. Gregory did not introduce the subject, and I wish you had spoken
as he did when every Christian at the table was insulted."

He colored deeply, but judiciously said nothing.

With increasing pain she thought, "He who says he is not a Christian
acts more like one than he who claims the character."

But she now had the strongest hopes for Gregory, and longed for a
private talk with him.

The next day it blew quite a gale, and Hunting and Miss Eulie were
helplessly confined to their staterooms. But Annie had become a
sailor, and having done all she could for her aunt, came upon deck,
where she saw Gregory walking back and forth with almost the
steadiness of one of the ship's officers.

She tried to go to him, but would have fallen had he not seen her and
reached her side almost at a bound. With a gentleness and tenderness
as real as delicate, he placed her in a sheltered nook where she could
see the waves in their mad sport, and said, "Now you can see old ocean
in one of his best moods. The wind, though strong, is right abaft,
filling all the sails they dare carry, and we are making grand
progress."

"How wonderful it is!" cried Annie, looking with a child's interest
upon the scene. "Just see those briny mountains, with foam and spray
for foliage. If our own Highlands with their mingled evergreens and
snow were changed from granite to water, and set in this wild motion,
it could hardly seem more strange and sublime. Look at that great
monster coming so threateningly toward us. It seems as if we should be
engulfed beyond a chance."

"Now see how gracefully the ship will surmount it," said Gregory,
smiling.

"O dear!" said she, sighing, "if we could only rise above our troubles
in the same way!" Then, feeling that she had touched on delicate
ground, she hastened to add, "This boundless waste increases my old
childish wonder how people ever find their way across the ocean."

"The captain is even now illustrating your own teaching and practice
in regard to the longer and more difficult voyage of life," said
Gregory, meaningly. "He is 'looking up'--taking an observation of the
heavens, and will soon know just where we are and how to steer."

Annie looked at him wistfully, and said, in a low tone, "I was so glad
to learn, last evening, that you had taken an observation also, and I
was so very grateful, too, that you had the courage to defend our
faith."

"I have to thank you that I could do either. It was really you who
spoke."

"No, Mr. Gregory," she said, gently, "my work for you reached its
limit. God is leading you now."

"I try to hope so," he said; "but it was your hand that placed in mine
that by which He is leading me. He surely must have put it into your
heart to give me that Bible. When I reached my cheerless rooms in New
York I felt so lonely and low-spirited that I had not the courage to
go a single step further. But your Bible became a living, comforting
presence from that night. What exquisite tact you showed in giving me
that little worn companion of your childhood, instead of a new gilt-
leaved one, with no associations. I first hoped that you might with it
give me also something of your childhood's faith. But that does not
come yet. That does not come."

"It will," said she, earnestly, and with moistened eyes.

"That, now, is one of my dearest hopes. But after what I have been, I
am not worthy that it should come soon. But if I perish myself I want
to try to help others."

Then he asked, in honest distrustfulness, "Do you think it right for
one who is not a Christian to try to teach others?"

"Before I answer that question I wish to ask a little more about
yourself;" and she skilfully drew him out, he speaking more openly in
view of the question to be decided than he would otherwise have done.
He told of the long evenings spent over her Bible; of his mission
work, and of his honest effort to deal justly with all; at the same
time dwelling strongly on his doubts and spiritual darkness, and the
unspent influences of his old evil life.

The answer was different from what he expected; for she said: "Mr.
Gregory, why do you say that you are not a Christian?"

"Because I feel that I am not."

"Does feeling merely make a Christian?" she asked. "Is not action more
than feeling? Do not trusting, following, serving, and seeking to
obey, make a Christian? But suppose that even with your present
_feeling_ you were living at the time of Christ's visible presence on
earth, would you be hostile or indifferent, or would you join His band
even though small and despised?"

"I think I would do the latter, if permitted."

"I know you would, from your course last night. And do you think Jesus
would say, 'Because you are not an emotional man like Peter, you are
no friend of mine'? Why, Mr. Gregory, He let even Judas Iscariot,
though with unworthy motive, follow Him as long as he would, giving
him a chance to become true."

"Miss Walton, do not mislead me in this matter. You know how
implicitly I trust you."

"And I would rather cast myself over into those waves than deceive
you," she said; "and if I saw them swallowing you up I should as
confidently expect to meet you again, as my father. How strange it is
you can believe that Jesus died for you and yet will not receive you
when you are doing just that which He died to accomplish."

He took a few rapid turns up and down the deck and then leaned over
the railing. She saw that he brushed more than one tear into the
waves. At last he turned and gave his hand in warm pressure, saying,
"I cannot doubt you, and I will doubt Him no longer. I see that I have
wronged Him, and the thought causes me sorrow even in my joy."

"Now you are my brother in very truth," she said, gently, with glad
tears in her own eyes. "All that we have passed through has not been
in vain. How wonderfully God has led us!"

It was a long time before either spoke again.

At last he said, with a strange, wondering smile, "To think that such
as I should ever reach heaven! As Daddy Tuggar says, 'there will be
good neighbors there.'"

She answered him by a happy smile, and then both were busy with their
own thoughts again. Annie was thinking how best to introduce the
subject so near her heart, his reconciliation with Hunting.

But that gentleman had become so tortured with jealousy and so alarmed
at the thought of any prolonged conference between Annie and Gregory,
that he dragged himself on deck. As he watched them a moment before
they saw him, he was quite reassured. Gregory was merely standing near
Annie, and both were looking away to sea, as if they had nothing
special to say to each other. Annie was pained to see that Gregory's
manner did not change toward Hunting. He was perfectly polite, but
nothing more; soon he excused himself, thinking they would like to be
alone.

In the afternoon she found a moment to say, "Mr. Gregory, will you
never become reconciled to Mr. Hunting? You surely cannot hate him
now?"

He replied, gravely, "I do not hate him any longer. I would do him any
kindness in my power, and that is a great deal for me to say. But Mr.
Hunting has no real wish for reconciliation."

In bitter sorrow she was compelled to admit to herself the truth of
his words. After a moment he added, "If he does he knows the exact
terms on which it can be effected."

She could not understand it, and reproached herself bitterly that so
many doubts in regard to her affianced would come unbidden, and force
themselves on her mind. The feeling grew stronger that there was wrong
on both sides, and perhaps the more on Hunting's.

That was a memorable day to Gregory. It seemed to him that Annie's
hand had drawn aside the sombre curtain of his unbelief, and shown the
path of light shining more and more unto the perfect day. Though
comparatively lonely, he felt that his pilgrimage could not now be
unhappy, and that every sorrow would at last find its cure. In regard
to her earthly future he could only hope and trust. It would be a
terrible trial to his faith if she were permitted to marry Hunting,
and yet he was sure it would all be well at last; for was it not said
that God's people would come to their rest out of "great tribulation"?
She had given him the impression that, under any circumstances, her
love for him could only be sisterly in its character.

But he was too happy in his new-born hope to think of much else that
day; and, finding a secluded nook, he searched Annie's Bible for
truths confirmatory of her words. On every side they glowed as in
letters of light. Then late that night he went on deck, and in his
strong excitement felt as if walking on air in his long, glad vigil.

At last, growing wearied, he leaned upon the railing and looked out
upon the dark waves--not dark to him, for the wanderer at last had
seen the light of his heavenly home, and felt that it would cheer his
way till the portals opened and received him into rest.

Suddenly, upon the top of a distant wave, something large and white
appeared, and then sank into an ocean valley. Again it rose--a sail,
then the dark hull of a ship.

In dreamy musing he began, wondering how, in mid-ocean, with so many
leagues of space, two vessels should cross each other's track so near.
"It's just the same with human lives," he thought. "A few months or
years ago, people that I never knew, and might have passed on the
wider ocean of life, unknowing and uncaring, have now come so near!
Why is it? Why does that ship, with the whole Atlantic before it, come
so steadily toward us?"

It did come so steadily and so near that a feeling of uneasiness
troubled him, but he thought that those in charge knew their business
better than he.

A moment later he started forward. The ship that had come so silently
and phantom-like across the waves seemed right in the path of the
steamer.

Was it not a phantom?

No; there's a white face at the wheel--the man is making a sudden,
desperate effort--it's too late.

With a crash like thunder the seeming phantom ship plows into the
steamer's side.

For a moment Gregory was appalled, stunned; and stared at the fatal
intruder that fell back in strong rebound, and dropped astern.

Then he became conscious of the confusion, and awakening uproar on
both vessels. Cries of agony, shouts of alarm, and hoarse orders
pierced the midnight air. He ran forward and saw the yawning cavern
which the blow had made in the ship's side, and heard the rush of
water into the hold. Across the chasm he saw the captain's pale face
looking down with a dismay like his own.

"The ship will sink, and soon," Gregory shouted.

There was no denial.

Down to the startled passengers he rushed, crying, "Awake! Escape for
your lives!"

His words were taken up and echoed in every part of the ship.

He struck a heavy blow upon the door of Annie's stateroom. "Miss
Walton!"

"Oh, what has happened?" she asked.

"You and Miss Morton come on deck, instantly; don't stop to dress;
snatch a shawl--anything. Lose not a moment. What is Hunting's
number?"

"Forty, on the opposite side."

"I will be back in a moment; be ready."

Hunting's state-room was so near where the steamer had been struck
that its door was jammed and could not be opened.

"Help! help! I can't get out," shrieked the terrified man.

Gregory wrenched a leaf from a dining-room table and pried the door
open.

"Come," he said, "you've no time to dress."

Hunting wrapped his trembling form in a blanket and gasped, as he
followed, "I'll pay you back every cent of that money with interest."

"Make your peace with God. We may soon be before Him," was the awful
response.

Miss Eulie and Annie stood waiting, draped in heavy shawls.

"I'm sorry for the delay; Hunting's door was jammed and had to be
broken open. Come;" and putting his arm around Miss Eulie and taking
Annie's hand, he forced them rapidly through the increasing throng of
terror-stricken passengers that were rushing in all directions.

Even then, with a strange thrill at heart, Annie thought, "He has
saved his enemy's life."

He took them well aft, and said, "Don't move; stand just here until I
return," and then pushed his way to the point where a frantic crowd
were snatching for the life preservers which were being given out. The
officer, knowing him, tossed him four as requested.

Coming back, he said to Hunting, "Fasten that one on Miss Morton and
keep the other." Throwing down his own for a moment, he proceeded to
fasten Annie's. He would not trust the demoralized Hunting to do
anything for her, and he was right, for Hunting's hands so trembled
that he was helpless. Having seen that Annie's was secured beyond a
doubt, Gregory also tied on Miss Eulie's.

In the meantime a passenger snatched his own preserving-belt, which he
had been trying to keep by placing his foot upon it.

"Stop," Annie cried. "O Mr. Gregory! he has taken it and you have
none. You shall have mine;" and she was about to unfasten it.

He laid a strong grasp upon her hands. "Stop such folly," he said,
sternly. "Come to where they are launching that boat. You have no
choice;" and he forced her forward while Hunting followed with Miss
Eulie.

They stood waiting where the lantern's glare fell upon their faces,
with many others more pale and agonized.

Annie clung to him as her only hope (for Hunting seemed almost
paralyzed with fear), and whispered, "Will you the same as die for me
again?"

"Yes, God bless you! a thousand times if there were need," he said, in
tones whose gentleness equalled the harshness of his former words.

She looked at him wonderingly. There was no fear upon his face, only
unspeakable love for her.

"Are you not afraid?" she asked.

"You said I was a Christian to-day, and your Bible and God's voice in
my heart have confirmed your words. No, I am at peace in all this
uproar, save anxiety for you."

She buried her face upon his shoulder.

"My darling sister!" he murmured in her ear. "How can I ever thank you
enough?"

Then he started suddenly, and tearing off the cape of his coat, said
to Hunting, "Fasten that around Miss Morton;" and before Annie quite
knew what he was doing he had taken off the body part and incased her
in it.

"Here, Hunting, your belt is not secure"; and he tightened the straps.

"Pass the women forward," shouted the captain.

Of course those nearest were embarked first. The ladies in Gregory's
charge had to take their turn, and the boat was about full when Miss
Eulie was lowered over the side.

At that moment the increasing throng, with a deeper realization of
danger, as the truth of their situation grew plainer, felt the first
mad impulse of panic, and there was a rush toward the boat. Hunting
felt the awful contagion. His face had the look of a hunted wild
beast. Annie gazed wonderingly at him, but as he half-started with the
others for the boat she understood him. Laying a restraining hand upon
his arm, she said, in a low tone, "If you leave my side now, you leave
it forever."

He cowered back in shame.

The officer in charge of the boat had shouted, "This boat is for women
and children; as you are men and not brutes, stand back."

This checked the desperate mob for a moment, and Gregory was about to
pass Annie down when there was another mad rush led by the blatant
individual who had scouted the idea of Providence.

"Cut away all," shouted the captain from the bridge, and the boat
dropped astern.

It was only by fierce effort that Gregory kept himself and Annie from
being carried over the side by the surging mass, many of whom leaped
blindly over, supposing the boat to be still there.

Pressing their way out they went where another boat was being
launched. Hunting followed them like a child, and was as helpless. He
now commenced moaning, "O God! what shall I do? what shall I do?"

"Trust Him, and be a man. What else should you do?" said Gregory,
sternly, for he was deeply disgusted at Hunting's behavior.

Around this boat the officer in charge had placed a cordon of men to
keep the crowd away, and stood pistol in hand to enforce his orders.
But the boat was scarcely lowered before there was the same wild rush,
mostly on the part of the crew and steerage passengers. The officer
fired and brought down the foremost, but the frenzied wretches
trampled him down with those helping, together with women and
children, as a herd of buffaloes might have done. They poured over
into the boat, swamped it, and as the steamer moved slowly ahead, were
left struggling and perishing in the waves.

Gregory had put his arm around Annie and drawn her out of the crush.
Fortunately they had been at one side, so that this was possible.

"The boats are useless," he said, sadly. "There will be the same
suicidal folly at every one, even if they have time to lower any more.
Come aft. That part will sink last, and there will be less suction
there when the ship goes down. We may find something that will keep us
afloat."

Annie clung to his arm and said, quietly, "I will do just as you say,"
while Hunting followed in the same maze of terror.

They had hardly got well away before a mast, with its rigging, fell
where they had stood, crushing many and maiming others, rendering them
helpless.

"Awful! awful" shuddered Hunting, and Annie put her hands before her
eyes.

An officer, with some men, now came toward them with axes, and
commenced breaking up the after wheelhouse.

"Here is our best chance," said Gregory. "Let us calmly await the
final moment and then do the best we can. All this broken timber will
float, and we can cling to it."

The ship was settling fast, and had become like a log upon the water,
responding slowly and heavily to the action of the waves. But under
the cold, pitiless starlight of that winter night, what heartrending
scenes were witnessed upon her sinking deck! Death had already laid
its icy finger on many, and many more were grouped near in despairing
expectation of the same fate.

While many, like Hunting, were almost paralyzed with fear, and others
shrieked and cried aloud in agony--while some prayed incoherently, and
others rushed back and forth as if demented--there were not wanting
numerous noble examples of faith and courage. Fortunately, there were
not many ladies on board, and most of these proved that woman's
fortitude is not a poetic fiction. One or two family groups stood near
in close embrace, and some men calmly folded their arms across their
breasts, and met their fate as God would have them.

Annie was conscious of a strange peace and hopefulness. She thrilled
with the thought which she expressed to Gregory--"How soon I may see
father and mother!"

She stood now with one hand on Hunting's trembling arm, for at that
supreme moment her heart was very tender, and she pitied while she
wondered at him. But Gregory was a tower of strength. He took her hand
in both his own, and said, "I can say the same, and more. Both father
and mother are awaiting me--and, Annie," he whispered, tenderly, "you,
too, will be there. So, courage! 'Good neighbors,' soon."

Why did her heart beat so strangely at his words?

"O God! have mercy on me!" groaned the man who had _seemed_, but was
not.

"Amen!" breathed both Annie and Gregory, fervently.

Suddenly they felt themselves lifted in the air, and, looking toward
the bow, saw it going under, while what seemed a great wave came
rolling toward them, bearing upon its dark crest white, agonized faces
and struggling forms.

Annie gave a swift, inquiring look to Gregory. His face was turned
heavenward, in calm and noble trust.

Hunting's wild cry mingled with the despairing shriek of many others,
but ended in a gurgling groan as he and all sank beneath the waters.




CHAPTER XXXIV

UNMASKED



It seemed that they passed through miles of water that roared around
them like a cataract. But Annie and Gregory held to each other in
their strong, convulsive grasp, and her belt caused him to rise with
her to the surface again. A piece of the wheelhouse floated near;
Gregory swam for it, and pushing it to Annie helped her upon it.
Hunting also grasped it. But it would not sustain the weight of all
three, especially as Gregory had no preserver on.

One must leave it that the other two might escape.

"Good-by, Annie, darling," said Gregory. "We will meet again in heaven
if not on earth. Cling to your plank as long as you can, and a boat
may pick you up. Good-by, poor Hunting, I'm sorry for you."

"What are you going to do?" gasped Annie.

"Don't you see that this won't float all three? I shall try to find
something else."

"No, no," cried Annie, "don't leave me: you have no belt on. If you go
I will too."

"I once lived for your sake; now you must for mine. I may save myself;
but if you leave we shall both drown. Good-by, dearest. If I reach
home first, I'll watch and wait till you come."

She felt him kiss her hand where she clung to her frail support, and
then he disappeared in the darkness.

"Why did you let him go?" she said to Hunting--"you who have a
preserver on?"

"O God, have mercy on me!" groaned the wretched man.

Annie now gave up all hope of escape, and indeed wished to die. She
was almost sure that Gregory had perished, and she felt that her best-
loved ones were in heaven.

She would have permitted herself to be washed away had not a sense of
duty to live until God took her life kept her firm. But every moment
it seemed that her failing strength would give way, and her benumbed
hands loosen their hold.

"But," she murmured in the noblest triumph of faith, "I shall sink,
not in these cold depths, but into my Saviour's arms."

Toward the last, when alone in the very presence of death, He seemed
nearest and dearest. She could not bear to look at the dark, angry
waters strewn with floating corpses. She had a sickening dread that
Gregory's white face might float by. So she closed her eyes, and only
thought of heaven, which was so near that its music seemed to mingle
with the surging of the waves.