Charles Dickens - "The Haunted Man and the Ghost's Bargin"

Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne - "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, v6"

Mitzi Perdue - "The Perdue Chicken Cookbook"

Louis Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne - "Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, v6"

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




"Those terms have an awful sound. They smite my ear with all the power
that vagueness imparts, and surely must have caused stout hearts to
tremble in their day," he remarked.

"We are no longer on the ground of currency and finance," said Annie,
archly, "and I shall leave you to imagine that I know all about the
ideas represented by the polysyllabic terms of churchmen's warfare."

He looked at her a moment in comic dismay. Really this country girl
was growing too much for him in his game of banter.

"Miss Walton, I shall not dispute or question your knowledge of the
Socin--cin--(you know the rest) heresy--"

"Alas!" put in Annie, quietly, "I do know all about the 'sin heresy.'
I can say that honestly."

"I am somewhat inclined to doubt that," he said, quickly; then added,
in sudden and mock severity, "Miss Walton, if I were a judge upon the
bench I should charge that you were evading the question and befogging
the case. The point at issue is, How can you regard Daddy Tuggar as a
good man? As evidence against him I can affirm that I do not remember
to have had such a good square cursing in my life, and I have received
several."

This last expression caused Miss Eulie to open her eyes at him.

"Not for your sake, sir," said Annie, with a keen yet humorous glance
at him, "who as judge on the bench have in your pocket a written
verdict, I fear, but for Aunt Eulie's I will give the reasons for my
estimate. I regard her in the light of an honest jury. In the first
place the term you used, 'square,' applies to him. I do not think he
could be tempted to do a dishonest thing; and that, as the world goes,
is certainly a good point."

"And as the church goes, too," he added, cynically.

"He is a good neighbor, and considerate of the rights of others. He
can feel, and is not afraid to show a sincere indignation when seeing
a wrong done to another."

"I can vouch for that. I shall steal no more of your apples, Mr.
Walton."

"There is not a particle of hypocrisy about him. I wish I could think
the same of his wife. For some reason she always gives me the
impression of insincerity. If I were as good as you are, aunty,
perhaps I should not be so suspicious. One thing more, and my eulogy
of Daddy--the only one he will ever receive, I fear--is over. He is
capable of sincere friendship, and that is more than you can say of a
great many."

"It is indeed," said Gregory, with bitter emphasis. "I should be
willing to take my chances with Daddy Tuggar in this or any other
world."

"You had better not," she answered, now thoroughly in earnest.

"Why so?"

"I should think memories of this place would make my meaning clear,"
she replied, gently.

Gregory's face darkened, and he admitted to himself that most
unexpectedly she had sent an arrow home, and yet he could take no
exception.

His indifference toward her had vanished now. So far from regarding
her as a dull, good, country girl with a narrow horizon of little
feminine and commonplace interests, he began to doubt whether he
should be able to cope with her in the tilt of thought. He saw that
she was quick, original, and did her own thinking, that in repartee
she hit back unexpectedly, in flashes, as the lightning strikes from
the clouds. He could not keep pace with her quick intuition.

Moreover, in her delicate reference to his parents' faith she had
suggested an argument for Christianity that he had never been able to
answer. For a little time she had caused him to forget his wretched
self, but her last remark had thrown him back on his old doubts,
fears, and memories. As we have said, his cynical, despondent
expression returned, and he silently lowered at the fire.

Annie had too much tact to add a word. "He must be hurt--well probed
indeed--before he can be well," she thought.

Country bedtime had now come, and Mr. Walton said, "Mr. Gregory, I
trust you will not find our custom of family prayers distasteful."

"The absence of such a custom would seem strange to me in this place,"
he replied, but he did not say whether it would be agreeable or
distasteful.

Annie went to the piano as if it were a habit, and after a moment
chose the tender hymn--

"Come, ye disconsolate."

At first, in his morbid sensitiveness, he was inclined to resent this
selection as aimed at him, but soon he was under the spell of the
music and the sentiment, which he thought had never before been so
exquisitely blended.

Miss Walton was not very finished or artistic in anything. She would
not be regarded as a scholar, even among the girls of her own age and
station, and her knowledge of classical music was limited. But she was
gifted in a peculiar degree with tact, a quick perception, and the
power of interpreting the language of nature and of the heart. She
read and estimated character rapidly. Almost intuitively she saw
people's needs and weaknesses, but so far was she from making them the
ground of satire and contempt that they awakened her pity and desire
to help. In other words, she was one of those Christians who in some
degree catch the very essence of Christ's character, who lived and
died to save. She did not think of condemning the guilty and
disconsolate man that brooded at her fireside, but she did long to
help him.

"I may never be able to say such words to him directly," she thought,
"but I can sing them, and if he leaves our home to-morrow he shall
hear the truth once more."

And she did sing with tenderness and feeling. In rendering something
that required simplicity, nature, and pathos, no prima donna could
surpass her, for while her voice was not powerful, and had no unusual
compass, it was as sweet as that of a thrush in May.

Only deaf ears and a stony heart could have remained insensible, and
Gregory was touched. A reviving breath from Paradise seemed to blow
upon him and gently urge, "Arise, struggle, make one more effort, and
you may yet cross the burning sands of the desert. It is not a mirage
that is mocking you now."

As the last words trembled from the singer's lips he shaded his eyes
with the hand on which his head was leaning, but Miss Eulie saw a tear
fall with momentary glitter, and she exulted over it as his good angel
might have done.

If penitent tears could be crystallized they would be the only gems of
earth that angels would covet, and perhaps God's co-workers here will
find those that they caused to flow on earth, set as gems in their
"crown of glory that fadeth not away."

Mr. Walton, in reverential tones, read the fifty-third chapter of
Isaiah, which, with greater beauty and tenderness, carried forward the
thought of the hymn; and then he knelt and offered a prayer that was
so simple and child-like, so free from form and cant, and so direct
from the heart, that Gregory was deeply moved. The associations of his
early home were now most vividly revealed and crowned by the sacred
hour of family worship, the memory of which, like a reproachful face,
had followed him in all his evil life.

When he arose from his knees he again shaded his face with his hand to
hide his wet eyes and twitching muscles. After a few moments he bade
the family an abrupt goodnight, and retired to his room.

At first they merely exchanged significant glances. Then Miss Eulie
told of the tear as if it were a bit of dust from a mine that might
enrich them all. For a while Annie sat thoughtfully gazing into the
fire, but at last she said, "It must be plain to us that Mr. Gregory
has wandered further from his old home in spirit than he has in body;
but it seems equally evident that he is not happy and content. He
seems suffering and out of health in soul and body. Perhaps God has
sent him to us and to his childhood's home for healing. Let us,
therefore, be very careful, very tender and considerate. He is
naturally proud and sensitive, and is morbidly so now."

"I think he is near the Kingdom," said Miss Eulie, with a little sigh
of satisfaction.

"Perhaps all are nearer than we think," said Annie, in a musing tone.
"God is not far from any one of us. But it is the curse of sin to
blind. He has, no doubt, been long in reaching his present unhappy
condition, and he may be long in escaping from it."

"Well, the Lord reigns," said Mr. Walton, sententiously, as if that
settled the question.

"Dear old father!" said Annie, smiling fondly at him, "that's your
favorite saying. You have a comfortable habit of putting all
perplexing questions into the Lord's hand and borrowing no further
trouble. Perhaps that is the wisest way after all, only one is a long
time learning it."

"I've been a long time learning it, my child," said her father. "Let
us agree to carry his case often to the throne of mercy, and in His
good time and way our prayers will be answered."

Thus in quaint old scriptural style they conspired for the life of
their unconscious guest. This was in truth a "holy alliance." How many
dark conspiracies there have been, resulting in blood, wrong, and
outrage, that some unworthy brow might wear for a little time a petty,
perishing crown of earth! Oh, that there were more conspiracies like
that in Mr. Walton's parlor for the purpose of rendering the unworthy
fit to wear the crown immortal!




CHAPTER VIII

WITCHCRAFT



Miss Eulie was doomed to disappointment, for Gregory came down late to
breakfast the following morning with not a trace of his softened
feelings. Indeed, because of pride, or for some reason, he chose to
seem the very reverse of all she had hoped. The winter of his unbelief
could not pass away so easily.

Even in January there are days of sudden relenting, when the frost's
icy grasp upon nature seems to relax. Days that rightfully belong to
spring drop down upon us with birds that have come before their time.
But such days may end in a northeast snowstorm and the birds perish.

The simile appeared true of Gregory. As far as he took part in the
table-talk he was a cold, finished man of the world, and the gloom of
the early morning rested on his face. But Annie noticed that he made
an indifferent breakfast and did not appear well.

After he had retired to his room to write some letters, as he said,
she remarked to her father when alone with him:

"I suppose you remember Mr. Gregory's manner when you spoke of Mr.
Hunting. They evidently are acquainted and not on good terms. What
could have occurred between them?"

"Some quarrel resulting from business, perhaps," said Mr. Walton,
musingly.

"I believe Charles has been trying to restrain Mr. Gregory in some of
his fast ways," Annie continued, emphatically, "and they have had hot
words. Men have so little discretion in their zeal."

"Business men are not apt to interfere with each other's foibles
unless they threaten their pockets," her father replied. "It is more
probable that Gregory has borrowed money of Hunting, and been
compelled to pay it against his will; and yet I have no right to
surmise anything of the kind."

"But Mr. Hunting is not a mere business man, father. He is bent on
doing good wherever he can find opportunity. I incline to my solution.
But it is clear that we must be silent in regard to him while Mr.
Gregory is with us, for I never saw such bitter enmity expressed in
any face. It is well that Charles is to be absent for some time, and
that we have no prospect of a visit from him while our guest is here.
Oh, dear! I wish Charles could come and make us a visit instead of
this moody, wayward stranger."

"I can echo that wish heartily, Annie, for in the son I find little of
my old friend, his father. But remember what you said last night. It
may be that he was sent to us in order that we should help him become
what his father was."

"I will do my best; but I do not look forward to his society with much
pleasure. Still, if there should be any such result as we hope for, I
should feel repaid a thousand-fold."

Gregory finished his letters and then paced restlessly up and down his
room.

"That this country girl should have so moved me!" he muttered. "What
does it mean? What is there about her that takes hold of my attention
and awakens my interest? I wish to go downstairs now, and talk to her,
and have her read to me, and am provoked with myself that I do.
Yesterday at this time I wished to avoid her.

"Why should I wish to avoid her? If she amuses me, diverts my mind,
beguiles my pain, or more dreary apathy, why not let her exert her
power to the utmost and make herself useful? Yes, but she will try to
do more than amuse. Well, suppose she does; one can coolly foil such
efforts. Not so sure of that. If I were dealing with a man I could,
but one must be worse than a clod to hear her sing and not feel. I
suppose I made a weak fool of myself before them all last night, and
they thought I was on the eve of conversion. I half wish I were, or on
the eve of anything else. Any change from my present state would seem
a relief. But a man cannot go into these things like an impulsive
girl, even if he believes in them, which is more than I do. I seem to
have fallen into a state of moral and physical imbecility, in which I
can only doubt, suffer, and chafe.

"I won't avoid her. I will study and analyze her character. I doubt
whether she is as good, fresh, and original as she seems. Such girls
exist only in moral stories, and I've met but few even there. I will
solve her mystery. Probably it is not a very deep one, and after a day
or two she will become an old story and life resume its normal
monotony;" and he at once descended the stairs to carry out his
purpose.

The children were just coming from the sitting-room where they had
their school, exclaiming, "Oh, aunty, what shall we do this awful
rainy day?"

"Wait till I have given some directions to Zibbie, and I will read you
a fairy story, and then you can go up into the garret until dinner-
time."

"May I listen to the fairy story also?" asked Walter.

Miss Walton looked up with a smile and said, "You must be half-
desperate from your imprisonment to accept of such solace. But if you
can wait till I have kept my word to the children I will read
something more to your taste."

"I think I should like to hear how a fairy story sounds once again
after all these years."

"As Shakespeare may sound to us some time in the future," she replied,
smiling.

"I can't believe we shall ever outgrow Shakespeare," he said.

"I can believe it, but cannot understand how it is possible. As yet I
am only growing up to Shakespeare."

"You seem very ready to believe what you cannot understand."

"And that is woman's way, I suppose you would like to add," she
answered, smiling over her shoulder, as she turned to the kitchen
department. "You men have a general faith that there will be dinner at
two o'clock, though you understand very little how it comes to pass,
and if you are disappointed the best of your sex have not fortitude
enough to wait patiently, so I must delay no longer to propitiate the
kitchen divinity."

"There!" he said, "I have but crossed her steps in the hall, and she
has stirred me and set my nerves tingling like an October breeze. She
is a witch."

After a few minutes Miss Walton entered. Each of the children called
for a story, and both clamored for their favorites.

"Johnny," said Miss Walton, "it is manly to yield to the least and
weakest, especially if she be a little woman."

The boy thought a moment, and then with an amusing assumption of
dignity said, "You may read Susie's story first, aunty."

"Susie, promise Johnny that his story shall be read first next time;"
which Susie promptly did with a touch of the womanly grace which
accompanies favors bestowed after the feminine will has triumphed.

"Now, little miniature man and woman, listen!" and their round eyes
were ready for the world of wonders.

And this child of nature was at the same time showing Gregory a world
as new and strange--a world that he had caught glimpses of when a boy,
but since had lost hopelessly. She carried the children away into
fairy-land. She suggested to him a life in which simplicity, truth,
and genuine goodness might bring peace and hope to the heart.

"Well, what do you think of the fairy story?" she asked after she had
finished and the children had drawn sighs of intense relief at the
happy denouement, in which the ugly ogre was slain and the prince and
princess were married:

"I did not hear it," he said.

"That's complimentary. But you appeared listening very closely."

"You have heard of people reading a different meaning between the
lines, and I suppose one can listen to a different meaning."

"And what could you find between the lines of this fairy tale?" she
asked with interest.

"It would be difficult for me to explain--something too vague and
indefinite for words, I fear. But if you will read me something else I
will listen to the text itself."

"Come, children, scamper off to the garret," said Annie, "and remember
you are nearer heaven up there, and so must be very kind and gentle to
each other."

"You will fill those youngsters' heads with beautiful superstitions."

"Superstition and faith are not so very far apart, though so unlike."

"Yes, it is hard to tell where one leaves off and the other begins."

"Is it?"

"Isn't it?"

"I don't like to contradict you, sir."

"You have contradicted me, and I suppose it is manly to yield to a
lady.'"

"Not in matters of principle and honest conviction."

"Alas! if one has not very much of either!"

"It is a very great misfortune, and, I suppose I ought to add, fault."

"I have no doubt it is a misfortune, Miss Walton, but you are not
reading."

"Well, make your choice."

"I leave it entirely to you."

"You don't look very well to-day. I will select something light and
cheerful from Dickens."

"Excuse me, please. I am in no mood for his deliberate purpose to make
one laugh."

"Then here is Irving. His style flows like a meadowbrook."

"No, he is too sentimental."

"Walter Scott, then, will form a happy medium."

"No, he wearies one with explanations and history."

"Some of Tennyson's dainty idylls will suit your fastidious taste."

"I couldn't abide his affected, stilted language to-day."

"Shakespeare, then; you regard him as perfect."

"No, he makes me think, and I do not wish to."

"Well, here are newspapers, the latest magazine, and some new novels."

"Modern rubbish--a mushroom growth. They will soon kindle kitchen
fires instead of thought."

"Then I must make an expedition to the library. What shall I bring?
There is Mosheim's 'Ecclesiastical Ancient History'; that has a solid,
venerable sound. Or, if you prefer poetry, I will get Gray's 'Elegy.'
That cannot be a literary mushroom, for he was twenty years writing
it. But perhaps it is Tupper you would like. That would suit your mood
exactly, Tupper's 'Proverbial Philosophy.'"

"You are growing satirical, Miss Walton. Why don't you assert plainly
that I am as full of whims as a--"

"Woman, would you like to say?"

"Present company excepted. The fact is, I am two-thirds ill to-day,
and the most faultless style and theme in our language would weary me.
I am possessed by the evil spirits of ennui, unrest, and disgust at
myself and all the world, present company always excepted. Do you know
of any spell that can exorcise these demons?"

"Yes, a very simple one. Will you put yourself absolutely in my power
and obey?"

"I am your slave."

Miss Walton left the room and soon returned with a large afghan. "You
must take a horizontal position in order that my spell may work."

"Pshaw! you are prescribing an ordinary nap."

"I am glad to say the best things in this world are ordinary. But
permit me to suggest that in view of your pledged word you have
nothing to do in this matter but to obey."

"Very well;" and he threw himself on the sofa.

"The day is chilly, sir, and I must throw this afghan over you;" and
she did so with a little touch of delicacy which is so grateful when
one is indisposed.

Her manner both soothed and pleased him.

He was more lonely than he realized, for it had been years since he
had experienced woman's gentle care and ministry; and Annie Walton had
a power possessed by few to put jangling nerves at rest. Suddenly he
said, "I wish I had a sister like you."

"My creed, you know," she replied, "makes all mankind kindred."

"Nonsense!" said Gregory, irritably; "deliver me from your church
sisters."

"Take care!" she answered, with a warning nod, "I'm a church sister;
so don't drive me away, for I am going to sing you to sleep."

"I'm half inclined to join your church that I may call you sister."

"You would be disciplined and excommunicated within a month. But hush;
you must not talk."

"How would you treat me after I had been anathematized?"

"If you were as ill as you are to-day I would make you sleep. Hush;
not another word. I am going to sing."

A luxurious sense of comfort stole over him, and he composed himself
to listen and criticise, little imagining, though, that he would fall
asleep. He saw through the window a lowering sky with leaden clouds
driven wildly across it. The wind moaned and soughed around the angles
of the house, and the rain beat against the glass. All without seemed
emblematic of himself. But now he had a brief but blessed sense of
shelter from both the storm and himself. The fire blazed cheerily on
the hearth. The afghan seemed to envelop him like a genial atmosphere.
Had Miss Walton bewitched it by her touch? And now she has found
something to suit her, or rather him, and is singing.

"What an unusual voice she has!" he thought "Truly the spirit of
David's harp, that could banish the demon from Saul, dwells in it. I
wonder if she is as good and real as she seems, or whether, under the
stress of temptation or the poison of flattery, she would not show
herself a true daughter of Eve? I must find out, for it is about the
only remaining question that interests me. If she is like the rest of
us--if she is a female Hunting--then good-by to all hope. I shall not
live to find anybody or anything to trust. If she is what she seems,
it's barely possible that she might help me out of this horrible
'slough of despond,' if she would take the trouble. I wish that she
were my sister, or that my sister had lived and had been just like
her."




CHAPTER IX

MISS WALTON RECOMMENDS A HOBBY



To Gregory's surprise he waked and then admitted to himself that,
contrary to his expectation and purpose, he had been asleep. His last
remembered consciousness was that of sweet, low music; and how long
ago was that? He looked at his watch; it was nearly two, and he must
have slept several hours. He glanced around and saw that he was alone,
but the fire still blazed on the hearth, and the afghan infolded him
with its genial warmth as before, and it seemed that although by
himself he was still cared for.

"She is a witch," he muttered. "Her spells are no jokes. But I will
investigate her case like an old-time Salem inquisitor. With more than
Yankee curiosity, which was at the bottom of their superstitious
questionings, I will pry into her power. But she will find that she
has a wary sceptic to convince. I have seen too many saints and
sinners to be again deceived by fair seeming."

A broad ray of sunlight shot across the room. "By my soul! it's
clearing off. Is this her work also? Has she swept away the clouds
with her broomstick? And there goes the dinner-bell, too;" and he went
to his room two steps at a time, as he had done when a boy.

Annie coming out of the sitting-room at that moment, smiled and said:
"He must be better."

At the table she asked, "How do you find yourself now?"

"Much given to appetite." Then, turning to Mr. Walton, he said,
abruptly, "Do you believe in witchcraft?"

"Well, no, sir," said Mr. Walton, a little taken aback.

"I do!" continued he, emphatically.

"When and where have you had experience of the black art?"

"This morning, and in your house, sir."

"You seem none the worse for it," said his host, smiling.

"Indeed, I have not felt so well in months. Your larder will suffer if
I am practiced upon any more."

"Well, of all modern and prosaic results of witchery this exceeds,"
said Annie, laughing, "since only a good appetite comes of it."

"It yet remains to be seen whether this is the only result," replied
Gregory. "What possessed the old Puritans to persecute the Salem
witches is a mystery to me, if their experience was anything like
mine."

"You must remember that the question of what was agreeable or
otherwise scarcely entered into a Puritan's motives."

"I am not so sure of that," he answered, quickly. "It has ever seemed
to me that the good people of other days went into persecution with a
zeal that abstract right can hardly account for. People will have
their excitements, and a good rousing persecution used to stir things
like the burning of Chicago or a Presidential election in our day."

"Granting," said Annie, "the bigotry and cruelty of the persecutor--
and these must be mainly charged to the age--still you must admit that
among them were earnest men who did from good motives what appears
very wrong to us. What seemed to them evil and destructive principles
were embodied in men and women, and they meant to destroy the evil
through the suffering and death of these poor creatures."