Susanna Moodie - "Roughing it in the Bush"

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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: On the Eve

I >> Ivan Turgenev >> On the Eve




'Accept my last kisses and blessings, and do not condemn me.

R.'

* * *

Nearly five years have passed since then, and no further news of Elena
has come. All letters and inquiries were fruitless; in vain did
Nikolai Artemyevitch himself make a journey to Venice and to Zara
after peace was concluded. In Venice he learnt what is already known
to the reader, but in Zara no one could give him any positive
information about Renditch and the ship he had taken. There were dark
rumours that some years back, after a great storm, the sea had thrown
up on shore a coffin in which had been found a man's body . . . But
according to other more trustworthy accounts this coffin had not been
thrown up by the sea at all, but had been carried over and buried near
the shore by a foreign lady, coming from Venice; some added that
they had seen this lady afterwards in Herzegovina, with the forces
which were there assembled; they even described her dress, black from
head to foot However it was, all trace of Elena had disappeared beyond
recovery for ever; and no one knows whether she is still living,
whether she is hidden away somewhere, or whether the petty drama of
life is over--the little ferment of her existence is at an end; and
she has found death in her turn. It happens at times that a man wakes
up and asks himself with involuntary horror, 'Can I be already thirty
. . . forty . . . fifty? How is it life has passed so soon? How is it
death has moved up so close?' Death is like a fisher who catches fish
in his net and leaves them for a while in the water; the fish is still
swimming but the net is round him, and the fisher will draw him
up--when he thinks fit.

* * *

What became of the other characters of our story?

Anna Vassilyevna is still living; she has aged very much since the
blow that has fallen on her; is less complaining, but far more
wretched. Nikolai Artemyevitch, too, has grown older and greyer, and
has parted from Augustina Christianovna. ... He has taken now to
abusing everything foreign. His housekeeper, a handsome woman of
thirty, a Russian, wears silk dresses and gold rings and bracelets.
Kurnatovsky, like every man of ardent temperament and dark complexion,
a devoted admirer of pretty blondes, married Zoya; she is in complete
subjection to him and has even given up thinking in German. Bersenyev
is in Heidelberg; he has been sent abroad at the expense of
government; he has visited Berlin and Paris and is not wasting his
time; he has become a thoroughly efficient professor. The attention
of the learned public has been caught by his two articles: 'On some
peculiarities of ancient law as regards judicial sentences,' and 'On
the significance of cities in civilisation.' It is only a pity that
both articles are written in rather a heavy style, disfigured by
foreign words. Shubin is in Rome; he is completely given up to his
art and is reckoned one of the most remarkable and promising of young
sculptors. Severe tourists consider that he has not sufficiently
studied the antique, that he has 'no style,' and reckon him one of
the French school; he has had a great many orders from the English
and Americans. Of late, there has been much talk about a Bacchante of
his; the Russian Count Boboshkin, the well-known millionaire, thought
of buying it for one thousand scudi, but decided in preference to give
three thousand to another sculptor, French _pur sang_, for a group
entitled, 'A youthful shepherdess dying for love in the bosom of the
Genius of Spring.' Shubin writes from time to time to Uvar Ivanovitch,
who alone has remained quite unaltered in all respects. 'Do you
remember,' he wrote to him lately, 'what you said to me that night,
when poor Elena's marriage was made known, when I was sitting on your
bed talking to you? Do you remember I asked you, "Will there ever be
men among us?" and you answered "There will be." O primeval force!
And now from here in "my poetic distance," I will ask you again:
"What do you say, Uvar Ivanovitch, will there be?"'

Uvar Ivanovitch flourished his fingers and fixed his enigmatical stare
into the far distance.