Andre Theuriet - "A Woodland Queen, v2"

Unknown - "The Koran"

Th. Bentzon (Mme. Blanc) - "Jacqueline, v3"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Life of John of Barneveld, 1614 17"

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: Mr. Midshipman Easy

F >> Frederick Marryat >> Mr. Midshipman Easy




Gascoigne, who perfectly understood what was said, presented the sword
to the young gentleman from whom he had taken it--our hero did the
same. The two young men returned them to their sheaths, and quitted
the room without saying a word.

"Whoever you are, I owe to you and thank you for my life," said the
elderly gentleman, scanning the outward appearance of our two
midshipmen.

"We are," replied Gascoigne, "officers in the English navy, and
gentlemen; we were wrecked in our boat last night, and have wandered
here in the dark, seeking for assistance, and food, and some
conveyance to Palermo, where we shall find friends, and the means of
appearing like gentlemen."

"Was your ship wrecked, gentlemen?" inquired the Sicilian, "and many
lives lost?"

"No, our ship is at Malta; we were in a boat on a party of pleasure,
were caught by a gale, and driven on the coast. To satisfy you of the
truth, observe that our pistols have the king's mark, and that we are
not paupers we show you gold." Gascoigne pulled out his doubloons--and
Jack did the same, coolly observing,--

"I thought we were only to show silver, Ned!"

"It needed not that," replied the gentleman; "your conduct in this
affair, your manners and address, fully convince me that you are what
you represent; but were you common peasants, I am equally indebted to
you for my life, and you may command me. Tell me in what way I can be
of service."

"In giving us something to eat, for we have had nothing for many, many
hours. After that we may, perhaps, trespass a little more upon your
kind offices."

"You must, of course, be surprised at what has passed, and curious to
know the occasion," said the gentleman; "you have a right to be
informed of it, and shall be, as soon as you are more comfortable; in
the meantime, allow me to introduce myself as Don Rebiera de Silva."

"I wish," said Jack, who, from his knowledge of Spanish, could
understand the whole of the last part of the Don's speech, "that he
would introduce us to his breakfast."

"So do I," said Gascoigne; "but we must wait a little--he ordered the
ladies to prepare something instantly."

"Your friend does not speak Italian," said Don Rebiera. "No, Don
Rebiera, he speaks French and Spanish." "If he speaks Spanish, my
daughter can converse with him; she has but shortly arrived from
Spain. We are closely united with a noble house in that country."

Don Rebiera then led the way to another room, and in a short time
there was a repast brought in, to which our midshipmen did great
justice.

"I will now," said the Don, "relate to you, sir, for the information
of yourself and friend, the causes which produced this scene of
violence, which you so opportunely defeated. But first, as it must be
very tedious to your friend, I will send for Donna Clara and my
daughter Agnes to talk to him; my wife understands a little Spanish,
and my daughter, as I said before, has but just left the country,
where, from circumstances, she remained some years."

As soon as Donna Clara and Donna Agnes made their appearance and were
introduced, Jack, who had not before paid attention to them, said to
himself, "I have seen a face like that girl's before." If so, he had
never seen many like it, for it was the quintessence of brunette
beauty, and her figure was equally perfect; although, not having yet
completed her fifteenth year, it required still a little more
development.

Donna Clara was extremely gracious, and as, perhaps, she was aware
that her voice would drown that of her husband, she proposed to our
hero to walk in the garden, and in a few minutes they took their seats
in a pavilion at the end of it. The old lady did not talk much
Spanish, but when at a loss for a word, she put in an Italian one, and
Jack understood her perfectly well. She told him her sister had
married a Spanish nobleman many years since, and that before the war
broke out between the Spanish and the English they had gone over with
all their children to see her; that when they wished to return, her
daughter Agnes, then a child, was suffering under a lingering
complaint, and it was thought advisable, as she was very weak, to
leave her under the charge of her aunt, who had a little girl of
nearly the same age; that they were educated together at a convent,
near Tarragona, and that she had only returned two months ago; that
she had a very narrow escape, as the ship in which her uncle, and
aunt, and cousins, as well as herself, were on board, returning from
Genoa, where her brother-in-law had been obliged to go to secure a
succession to some property bequeathed to him, had been captured in
the night by the English; but the officer, who was very polite, had
allowed them to go away next day, and very handsomely permitted them
to take all their effects.

"Oh, oh," thought Jack; "I thought I had seen her face before; this
then was one of the girls in the corner of the cabin--now I'll have
some fun."

During the conversation with the mother, Donna Agnes had remained some
paces behind, picking now and then a flower, and not attending to what
passed.

When our hero and her mother sat down in the pavilion she joined then,
when Jack addressed her with his usual politeness.

"I am almost ashamed to be sitting by you, Donna Agnes, in this ragged
dress--but the rocks of your coast have no respect for persons."

"We are under great obligations, signor, and do not regard such
trifles."

"You are all kindness, signora," replied Jack; "I little thought this
morning of my good fortune,--I can tell the fortunes of others, but
not my own."

"You can tell fortunes!" replied the old lady.

"Yes, madame, I am famous for it--shall I tell your daughter hers?"
Donna Agnes looked at our hero, and smiled.

"I perceive that the young lady does not believe me; I must prove my
art, by telling her of what has already happened to her. The signora
will then give me credit."

"Certainly, if you do that," replied Agnes.

"Oblige me, by showing me the palm of your hand."

Agnes extended her little hand, and Jack felt so very polite, that he
was nearly kissing it. However, he restrained himself, and examining
the lines--

"That you were educated in Spain--that you arrived here but two months
ago--that you were captured and released by the English, your mother
has already told me; but to prove to you that I knew all that, I must
now be more particular. You were in a ship mounting fourteen guns--
was it not so?"

Donna Agnes nodded her head. "I never told the signor that," cried
Donna Clara.

"She was taken by surprise in the night, and there was no fighting.
The next morning the English burst open the cabin-door; your uncle and
your cousin fired their pistols."

"Holy Virgin!" cried Agnes, with surprise.

"The English officer was a young man, not very good-looking."

"There you are wrong, signor--he was very handsome."

"There is no accounting for taste, signora. You were frightened out of
your wits, and with your cousin you crouched down in the corner of the
cabin. Let me examine that little line closer. You had--yes, it's no
mistake--you had very little clothes on."

Agnes tore away her hand and covered her face. "E vero, e vero; Holy
Jesus! how could you know that?" Of a sudden Agnes looked at our hero,
and after a minute appeared to recognise him. "Oh, mother, 'tis he--I
recollect now, 'tis he!"

"Who, my child?" replied Donna Clara, who had been struck dumb with
Jack's astonishing power of fortune-telling.

"The officer who captured us and was so kind." Jack burst out into a
laughter not to be controlled for some minutes, and then acknowledged
that she had discovered him.

"At all events, Donna Agnes," said he at last, "acknowledge that,
ragged as I am, I have seen you in a much greater dishabille."

Agnes sprang up, and took to her heels, that she might hide her
confusion, and at the same time go to her father and tell him who he
had as his guest.

Although Don Rebiera had not yet finished his narrative, this
announcement of Agnes, who ran in breathless to communicate it,
immediately brought all the parties together, and Jack received their
thanks.

"I little thought," said the Don, "that I should have been so doubly
indebted to you, sir. Command my services as you please, both of you.
My sons are at Palermo, and I trust you will allow them the pleasure
of your friendship when you are tired of remaining with us."

Jack made his politest bow, and then with a shrug of his shoulders
looked down upon his habiliments, which, to please Gascoigne, he had
torn into ribands, as much as to say, "We are not provided for a
lengthened stay."

"My brothers' clothes will fit them, I think," said Agnes to her
father; "they have left plenty in their wardrobes."

"If the signors will condescend to wear them till they can replace
their own." Midshipmen are very condescending. They followed Don
Rebiera, and condescended to put on clean shirts belonging to Don
Philip and Don Martin. Also to put on their trousers, to select their
best waistcoats and coats; in short, they condescended to have a
regular fit-out--and it so happened that the fit-out was not far from
a regular fit.

Having condescended, they then descended, and the intimacy between all
parties became so great that it appeared as if they not only wore the
young men's clothes but also stood in their shoes. Having thus made
themselves presentable, Jack presented his hand to both ladies and led
them into the garden, that Don Rebiera might finish his long story to
Gascoigne without further interruption, and resuming their seats in
the pavilion, he entertained the ladies with a history of his cruise
in the ship after her capture. Agnes soon recovered from her reserve,
and Jack had the forbearance not to allude again to the scene in the
cabin, which was the only thing she dreaded. After dinner, when the
family, according to custom, had retired for the siesta, Gascoigne and
Jack, who had slept enough in the cart to last for a week, went out
together in the garden.

"Well, Ned," said Jack, "do you wish yourself on board the Harpy
again?"

"No," replied Gascoigne, "we have fallen on our feet at last, but
still not without first being knocked about like peas in a rattle.
What a lovely little creature that Agnes is! How strange that you
should fall in with her again! How odd that we should come here!"

"My good fellow, we did not come here. Destiny brought us in a cart.
She may take us to Tyburn in the same way."

"Yes, if you sport your philosophy as you did when we awoke this
morning."

"Nevertheless, I'll be hanged if I'm not right. Suppose we argue the
point?"

"Right or wrong, you will be hanged, Jack; so instead of arguing the
point, suppose I tell you what the Don made such a long story about."

"With all my heart--let us go to the pavilion." Our hero and his
friend took their seats, and Gascoigne then communicated the history
of Don Rebiera, to which we shall dedicate the ensuing chapter.


CHAPTER XX

A long story, which the reader must listen to, as well as our hero.

"I have already made you acquainted with my name, and I have only to
add that it is one of the most noble in Sicily, and that there are few
families who possess such large estates. My father was a man who had
no pleasure in the pursuits of most of the young men of his age; he
was of a weakly constitution, and was with difficulty reared to
manhood. When his studies were completed he retired to his country
seat belonging to our family, which is about twenty miles from
Palermo, and shutting himself up, devoted himself wholly to literary
pursuits.

"As he was an only son, his parents were naturally very anxious that
he should marry; the more so as his health did not promise him a very
extended existence. Had he consulted his own inclinations he would
have declined, but he felt that it was his duty to comply with their
wishes; but he did not trouble himself with the choice, leaving it
wholly to them. They selected a young lady of high family and
certainly of most exquisite beauty. I only wish I could say more in
her favour--for she was my mother--but it is impossible to narrate the
history without exposing her conduct. The marriage took place, and my
father--having woke up, as it were, at the celebration--again returned
to his closet, to occupy himself in abstruse studies--the results of
which have been published, and have fully established his reputation
as a man of superior talent and deep research. But, however much the
public may appreciate the works of a man of genius, whether they be
written to instruct or to amuse, certain it is that a literary man
requires in his wife either a mind congenial to his own, or that pride
in her husband's talents which induces her to sacrifice much of her
own domestic enjoyment to the satisfaction of having his name extolled
abroad. I mention this point as some extenuation of my mother's
conduct. She was neglected most certainly, but not neglected for
frivolous amusements, or because another form had captivated his
fancy; but in his desire to instruct others, and I may add his
ambition for renown, he applied himself to his literary pursuits,
became abstracted, answered without hearing, and left his wife to
amuse herself in any way she might please. A literary husband is,
without exception--although always at home--the least domestic husband
in the world, and must try the best of tempers--not by unkindness, for
my father was kind and indulgent to excess, but by that state of
perfect abstraction and indifference which he, showed to everything
except the favourite pursuit which absorbed him. My mother had but to
speak, and every wish was granted--a refusal was unknown. You may say,
what could she want more? I reply, that anything to a woman is
preferable to indifference. The immediate consent to every wish took
away, in her opinion, all merit in the grant--the value of everything
is only relative, and in proportion to the difficulty of obtaining it.
The immediate assent to every opinion was tantamount to insult--it
implied that he did not choose to argue with her.

"It is true that women like to have their own way--but they like at
the same time to have difficulties to surmount and to conquer;
otherwise half the gratification is lost. Although tempests are to be
deplored, still a certain degree of oscillation an motion are
requisite to keep fresh and clear the lake of matrimony, the waters of
which otherwise soon stagnate and become foul, and without some
contrary currents of opinion between a married couple such a
stagnation must take place.

"A woman permitted always and invariably to have her own way without
control is much in the same situation as the child who insists upon a
whole instead of half a holiday, and before the evening closes is
tired of himself and everything about him. In short, a little
contradiction, like salt at dinner, seasons and appetises the repast;
but too much, Eke the condiment in question, spoils the whole, and it
becomes unpalatable in proportion to its excess.

"My mother was a vain woman in every sense of the word--vain of her
birth and of her beauty, and accustomed to receive that homage to
which she considered herself entitled. She had been spoiled in her
infancy, and as she grew up had leant nothing, because she was
permitted to do as she pleased; she was therefore frivolous, and could
not appreciate what she could not comprehend. There never was a more
ill-assorted union."

"I have always thought that such must be the case," replied Gascoigne,
"in Catholic countries, where a young person is taken out of a convent
and mated according to what her family or her wealth may consider as
the most eligible connection."

"On that subject there are many opinions, my friend," replied Don
Rebiera. "It is true, that when a marriage of convenience is arranged
by the parents, the dispositions of the parties are made a secondary
point; but then, again, it must be remembered, that when a choice is
left to the parties themselves, it is at an age at which there is
little worldly consideration: and, led away, in the first place, by
their passions, they form connections with those inferior in their
station which are attended with eventual unhappiness; or, in the
other, allowing that they do choose in their own rank of life, they
make quite as bad or often a worse choice than if their partners were
selected for them."

"I cannot understand that," replied Gascoigne.

"The reason is, because there are no means, or, if means, no wish, to
study each other's disposition. A young man is attracted by person,
and he admires; the young woman is flattered by the admiration, and is
agreeable; if she has any faults she is not likely to display them--
not concealing them from hypocrisy, but because they are not called
out. The young man falls in love, so does the young woman: and when
once in love, they can no longer see faults; they marry, imagining
that they have found perfection. In the blindness of love each raises
the other to a standard of perfection which human nature can never
attain, and each becomes equally annoyed on finding, by degrees, that
they were in error. The re-action takes place, and they then
under-rate, as much as before they had over-rated, each other. Now, if
two young people marry without this violence of passion, they do not
expect to find each other perfect, and perhaps have a better chance of
happiness."

"I don't agree with you," thought Gascoigne; "but as you appear to be
as fond of argument as my friend Jack, I shall make no reply, lest
there be no end to the story."

Don Rebiera proceeded. "My mother, finding that my father preferred
his closet and his books to gaiety and dissipation, soon left him to
himself, and amused herself after her own fashion, but not until I was
born, which was ten months after their marriage. My father was
confiding, and, pleased that my mother should be amused, he indulged
her in everything. Time flew on, and I had arrived at my fifteenth
year, and came home from my studies, it being intended that I should
enter the army, which you are aware is generally the only profession
embraced in this country by the heirs of noble families. Of course, I
knew little of what had passed at home, but still I had occasionally
heard my mother spoken lightly of, when I was not supposed to be
present, and I always heard my father's name mentioned with
compassion, as if an ill-used man, but I knew nothing more: still this
was quite sufficient for a young man, whose blood boiled at the idea
of anything like a stigma being cast upon his family. I arrived at my
father's--I found him at his books; I paid my respects to my mother,--
I found her with her confessor. I disliked the man at first sight; he
was handsome, certainly: his forehead was high and white, his eyes
large and fiery, and his figure commanding; but there was a dangerous,
proud look about him which disgusted me,--nothing like humility or
devotion. I might have admired him as an officer commanding a regiment
of cavalry, but as a churchman he appeared to be most misplaced. She
named me with kindness, but he appeared to treat me with disdain; he
spoke authoritatively to my mother, who appeared to yield implicitly,
and I discovered that he was lord of the whole household. My mother,
too, it was said, had given up gaieties and become devout. I soon
perceived more than a common intelligence between them, and before I
had been two months at home I had certain proofs of my father's
dishonour; and, what was still more unfortunate for me, they were
aware that such was the case.

"My first impulse was to acquaint my father; but, on consideration, I
thought it better to say nothing, provided I could persuade my mother
to dismiss Father Ignatio. I took an opportunity when she was alone
to express my indignation at her conduct, and to demand his immediate
dismissal, as a condition of my not divulging her crime. She appeared
frightened, and gave her consent; but I soon found that her confessor
had more power with her than I had, and he remained. I now resolved
to acquaint my father, and I roused him from his studies that he might
listen to his shame. I imagined that he would have acted calmly and
discreetly; but, on the contrary, his violence was without bounds, and
I had the greatest difficulty from preventing his rushing with his
sword to sacrifice them both. At last he contented himself by turning
Father Ignatio out of the house in the most ignominious manner, and
desiring my mother to prepare for seclusion in a convent for the
remainder of her days. But he fell their victim; three days
afterwards, as my mother was, by his directions, about to be removed,
he was seized with convulsions, and died.

"I need hardly say that he was carried off by poison; this, however,
could not be established till long afterwards. Before he died he
seemed to be almost supernaturally prepared for an event which never
came into my thoughts. He sent for another confessor, who drew up his
confession in writing at his own request, and afterwards inserted it
in his will. My mother remained in the house, and Father Ignatio had
the insolence to return. I ordered him away, and he resisted. He was
turned out by the servants. I had an interview with my mother, who
defied me, and told me that I should soon have a brother to share in
the succession. I felt that, if so, it would be the illegitimate
progeny of her adultery, and told her my opinion. She expressed her
rage in the bitterest curses, and I left her. Shortly afterwards she
quitted the house and retired to another of our country seats, where
she lived with Father Ignatio as before. About four months
afterwards, formal notice was sent to me of the birth of a brother;
but as when my father's will was opened, he there had inserted his
confession, or the substance of it, in which he stated, that aware of
my mother's guilt, and supposing that consequences might ensue, he
solemnly declared before God that he had for years lived apart, I
cared little for this communication. I contented myself with replying
that as the child belonged to the church, it had better be dedicated
to its service.

"I had, however, soon reason to acknowledge the vengeance of my mother
and her paramour. One night I was attacked by bravos; and had I not
fortunately received assistance, I should have forfeited my life; as
it was, I received a severe wound.

"Against attempts of that kind I took every precaution in future, but
still every attempt was made to ruin my character, as well as to take
my life. A young sister disappeared from a convent in my
neighbourhood, and on the ground near the window from which she
descended was found a hat, recognised to be mine. I was proceeded
against, and notwithstanding the strongest interest, it was with
difficulty that the affair was arranged, although I had incontestably
proved an alibi.

"A young man of rank was found murdered, with a stiletto, known to be
mine, buried in his bosom, and it was with difficulty that I could
establish my innocence.

"Part of a banditti had been seized, and on being asked the name of
their chief, when they received absolution, they confessed that I was
the chief of the band.

"Everything that could be attempted was put into practice; and if I
did not lose my life, at all events I was avoided by almost everybody
as a dangerous and doubtful character.

"At last a nobleman of rank, the father of Don Scipio, whom you
disarmed, was assassinated; the bravos were taken, and they
acknowledged that I was the person who hired them. I defended myself,
but the king imposed upon me a heavy fine and banishments I had just
received the order, and was crying out against the injustices and
lamenting my hard fate, as I sat down to dinner. Latterly, aware of
what my enemies would attempt, I had been accustomed to live much
alone. My faithful valet Pedro was my only attendant. I was eating
my dinner with little appetite, and had asked for some wine. Pedro
went to the buffet behind him to give me what I required. Accidentally
I lifted up my head, and there being a large pier-glass opposite to
me, I saw the figure of my valet, and that he was pouring a powder in
the flagon of wine which he was about to present to me. I recollected
the hat being found at the nunnery, and also the stiletto in the body
of the young man.

"Like lightning it occurred to me, that I had been fostering the viper
who had assisted to destroy me. He brought me the flagon. I rose,
locked the door, and drawing my sword, I addressed him--'Villain! I
know thee; down on your knees, for your life is forfeited.'

"He turned pale, trembled, and sank upon his knees. 'Now then,'
continued I, 'you have but one chance either drink off this flagon of
wine, or I pass my sword through your body.' He hesitated, and I put
the point to his breast,--even pierced the flesh a quarter of an inch.

"'Drink,' cried I, 'is it so very unjust an order to tell you to drink
old wine? Drink,' continued I, 'or my sword does its duty.'