John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1588"

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart - "The Letters of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, V.1."

Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v10: Imitation of Anacreon"

Pansy (aka Isabella Alden) - "Tip Lewis and His Lamp"

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: Title

J >> J. Fenimore Cooper >> Title




Of this subdued and unobtrusive sorrow, for I fear it sometimes
reached that intensity of feeling, my excellent and indefatigable
ancestor appeared to have no suspicion. He pursued his ordinary
occupations with his ordinary single-minded devotion, and the last
thing that would have crossed his brain was the suspicion that he
had not punctiliously done his duty by his ward. Had he acted
otherwise, none surely would have suffered more by his delinquency
than her husband, and none would have a better right to complain.
Now, as her husband never dreamt of making such an accusation, it is
not at all surprising that my ancestor remained in ignorance of his
wife's feelings at the hour of his death.

It has been said that the opinions of the successor of the fancy-
dealer underwent some essential changes between the ages of ten and
forty. After he had reached his twenty-second year, or, in other
words, the moment he began to earn money for himself, as well as for
his master, he ceased to cry "Wilkes and liberty!" He was not heard
to breathe a syllable concerning the obligations of society toward
the weak and unfortunate, for the five years that succeeded his
majority; he touched lightly on Christian duties in general, after
he got to be worth fifty pounds of his own; and as for railing at
human follies, it would have been rank ingratitude in one who so
very unequivocally got his bread by them. About this time, his
remarks on the subject of taxation, however, were singularly
caustic, and well applied. He railed at the public debt, as a public
curse, and ominously predicted the dissolution of society, in
consequence of the burdens and incumbrances it was hourly
accumulating on the already overloaded shoulders of the trader.

The period of his marriage and his succession to the hoardings of
his former master, may be dated as the second epocha in the opinions
of my ancestor. From this moment his ambition expanded, his views
enlarged in proportion to his means, and his contemplations on the
subject of his great floating capital became more profound and
philosophical. A man of my ancestor's native sagacity, whose whole
soul was absorbed in the pursuit of gain, who had so long been
forming his mind, by dealing as it were with the elements of human
weaknesses, and who already possessed four hundred thousand pounds,
was very likely to strike out for himself some higher road to
eminence, than that in which he had been laboriously journeying,
during the years of painful probation. The property of my mother had
been chiefly invested in good bonds and mortgages; her protector,
patron, benefactor, and legalized father, having an unconquerable
repugnance to confiding in that soulless, conventional, nondescript
body corporate, the public. The first indication that was given by
my ancestor of a change of purpose in the direction of his energies,
was by calling in the whole of his outstanding debts, and adopting
the Napoleon plan of operations, by concentrating his forces on a
particular point, in order that he might operate in masses. About
this time, too, he suddenly ceased railing at taxation. This change
may be likened to that which occurs in the language of the
ministerial journals, when they cease abusing any foreign state with
whom the nation has been carrying on a war, that it is, at length,
believed politic to terminate; and for much the same reason, as it
was the intention of my thrifty ancestor to make an ally of a power
that he had hitherto always treated as an enemy. The whole of the
four hundred thousand pounds were liberally intrusted to the
country, the former fancy-dealer's apprentice entering the arena of
virtuous and patriotic speculation, as a bull; and, if with more
caution, with at least some portion of the energy and obstinacy of
the desperate animal that gives title to this class of adventurers.
Success crowned his laudable efforts; gold rolled in upon him like
water on a flood, buoying him up, soul and body, to that enviable
height, where, as it would seem, just views can alone be taken of
society in its innumerable phases. All his former views of life,
which, in common with others of a similar origin and similar
political sentiments, he had imbibed in early years, and which might
with propriety be called near views, were now completely obscured by
the sublimer and broader prospect that was spread before him.

I am afraid the truth will compel me to admit, that my ancestor was
never charitable in the vulgar acceptation of the term; but then, he
always maintained that his interest in his fellow-creatures was of a
more elevated cast, taking a comprehensive glance at all the
bearings of good and evil--being of the sort of love which induces
the parent to correct the child, that the lesson of present
suffering may produce the blessings of future respectability and
usefulness. Acting on these principles, he gradually grew more
estranged from his species in appearance, a sacrifice that was
probably exacted by the severity of his practical reproofs for their
growing wickedness, and the austere policy that was necessary to
enforce them. By this time, my ancestor was also thoroughly
impressed with what is called the value of money; a sentiment which,
I believe, gives its possessor a livelier perception than common of
the dangers of the precious metals, as well as of their privileges
and uses. He expatiated occasionally on the guaranties that it was
necessary to give to society, for its own security; never even voted
for a parish officer unless he were a warm substantial citizen; and
began to be a subscriber to the patriotic fund, and to the other
similar little moral and pecuniary buttresses of the government,
whose common and commendable object was, to protect our country, our
altars, and our firesides.

The death-bed of my mother has been described to me as a touching
and melancholy scene. It appears that as this meek and retired woman
was extricated from the coil of mortality, her intellect grew
brighter, her powers of discernment stronger, and her character in
every respect more elevated and commanding. Although she had said
much less about our firesides and altars than her husband, I see no
reason to doubt that she had ever been quite as faithful as he could
be to the one, and as much devoted to the other. I shall describe
the important event of her passage from this to a better world, as I
have often had it repeated from the lips of one who was present, and
who has had an important agency in since making me the man I am.
This person was the clergyman of the parish, a pious divine, a
learned man, and a gentleman in feeling as well as by extraction.

My mother, though long conscious that she was drawing near to her
last great account, had steadily refused to draw her husband from
his absorbing pursuits, by permitting him to be made acquainted with
her situation. He knew that she was ill; very ill, as he had reason
to think; but, as he not only allowed her, but even volunteered to
order her all the advice and relief that money could command (my
ancestor was not a miser in the vulgar meaning of the word), he
thought that he had done all that man could do, in a case of life
and death--interests over which he professed to have no control. He
saw Dr. Etherington, the rector, come and go daily, for a month,
without uneasiness or apprehension, for he thought his discourse had
a tendency to tranquillize my mother, and he had a strong affection
for all that left him undisturbed, to the enjoyment of the
occupation in which his whole energies were now completely centred.
The physician got his guinea at each visit, with scrupulous
punctuality; the nurses were well received and were well satisfied,
for no one interfered with their acts but the doctor; and every
ordinary duty of commission was as regularly discharged by my
ancestor, as if the sinking and resigned creature from whom he was
about to be forever separated had been the spontaneous choice of his
young and fresh affections.

When, therefore, a servant entered to say that Dr. Etherington
desired a private interview, my worthy ancestor, who had no
consciousness of having neglected any obligation that became a
friend of church and state, was in no small measure surprised.

"I come, Mr. Goldencalf, on a melancholy duty," said the pious
rector, entering the private cabinet to which his application had
for the first time obtained his admission; "the fatal secret can no
longer be concealed from you, and your wife at length consents that
I shall be the instrument of revealing it."

The Doctor paused; for on such occasions it is perhaps as well to
let the party that is about to be shocked receive a little of the
blow through his own imagination; and busily enough was that of my
poor father said to be exercised on this painful occasion. He grew
pale, opened his eyes until they again filled the sockets into which
they had gradually been sinking for twenty years, and looked a
hundred questions that his tongue refused to put.

"It cannot be, Doctor," he at length querulously said, "that a woman
like Betsey has got an inkling into any of the events connected with
the last great secret expedition, and which have escaped my jealousy
and experience?"

"I am afraid, dear sir, that Mrs. Goldencalf has obtained glimpses
of the last great and secret expedition on which we must all, sooner
or later, embark, that have entirely escaped your vigilance. But of
this I will speak some other time. At present it is my painful duty
to inform you it is the opinion of the physician that your excellent
wife cannot outlive the day, if, indeed, she do the hour."

My father was struck with this intelligence, and for more than a
minute he remained silent and without motion. Casting his eyes
toward the papers on which he had lately been employed, and which
contained some very important calculations connected with the next
settling day, he at length resumed:

"If this be really so, Doctor, it may be well for me to go to her,
since one in the situation of the poor woman may indeed have
something of importance to communicate."

"It is with this object that I have now come to tell you the truth,"
quietly answered the divine, who knew that nothing was to be gained
by contending with the besetting weakness of such a man, at such a
moment.

My father bent his head in assent, and, first carefully enclosing
the open papers in a secretary, he followed his companion to the
bedside of his dying wife.




CHAPTER II.

TOUCHING MYSELF AND TEN THOUSAND POUNDS.


Although my ancestor was much too wise to refuse to look back upon
his origin in a worldly point of view, he never threw his
retrospective glances so far as to reach the sublime mystery of his
moral existence; and while his thoughts might be said to be ever on
the stretch to attain glimpses into the future, they were by far too
earthly to extend beyond any other settling day than those which
were regulated by the ordinances of the stock exchange. With him, to
be born was but the commencement of a speculation, and to die was to
determine the general balance of profit and loss. A man who had so
rarely meditated on the grave changes of mortality, therefore, was
consequently so much the less prepared to gaze upon the visible
solemnities of a death-bed. Although he had never truly loved my
mother, for love was a sentiment much too pure and elevated for one
whose imagination dwelt habitually on the beauties of the stock-
books, he had ever been kind to her, and of late he was even much
disposed, as has already been stated, to contribute as much to her
temporal comforts as comported with his pursuits and habits. On the
other hand, the quiet temperament of my mother required some more
exciting cause than the affections of her husband, to quicken those
germs of deep, placid, womanly love, that certainly lay dormant in
her heart, like seed withering with the ungenial cold of winter. The
last meeting of such a pair was not likely to be attended with any
violent outpourings of grief.

My ancestor, notwithstanding, was deeply struck with the physical
changes in the appearance of his wife.

"Thou art much emaciated, Betsey," he said, taking her hand kindly,
after a long and solemn pause; "much more so than I had thought, or
could have believed! Dost nurse give thee comforting soups and
generous nourishment?"

My mother smiled the ghastly smile of death; but waved her hand,
with loathing, at his suggestion.

"All this is now too late, Mr. Goldencalf," she answered, speaking
with a distinctness and an energy for which she had long been
reserving her strength. "Food and raiment are no longer among my
wants."

"Well, well, Betsey, one that is in want of neither food nor
raiment, cannot be said to be in great suffering, after all; and I
am glad that thou art so much at ease. Dr. Etherington tells me thou
art far from being well bodily, however, and I am come expressly to
see if I can order anything that will help to make thee more easy."

"Mr. Goldencalf, you can. My wants for this life are nearly over; a
short hour or two will remove me beyond the world, its cares, its
vanities, its--" My poor mother probably meant to add, its
heartlessness or its selfishness; but she rebuked herself, and
paused: "By the mercy of our blessed Redeemer, and through the
benevolent agency of this excellent man," she resumed, glancing her
eye upwards at first with holy reverence, and then at the divine
with meek gratitude, "I quit you without alarm, and were it not for
one thing, I might say without care."

"And what is there to distress thee, in particular, Betsey?" asked
my father, blowing his nose, and speaking with unusual tenderness;
"if it be in my power to set thy heart at ease on this, or on any
other point, name it, and I will give orders to have it immediately
performed. Thou hast been a good pious woman, and canst have little
to reproach thyself with."

My mother looked earnestly and wistfully at her husband. Never
before had he betrayed so strong an interest in her happiness, and
had it not, alas! been too late, this glimmering of kindness might
have lighted the matrimonial torch into a brighter flame than had
ever yet glowed upon the past.

"Mr. Goldencalf, we have an only son--"

"We have, Betsey, and it may gladden thee to hear that the physician
thinks the boy more likely to live than either of his poor brothers
and sisters."

I cannot explain the holy and mysterious principle of maternal
nature that caused my mother to clasp her hands, to raise her eyes
to heaven, and, while a gleam flitted athwart her glassy eyes and
wan cheeks, to murmur her thanks to God for the boon. She was
herself hastening away to the eternal bliss of the pure of mind and
the redeemed, and her imagination, quiet and simple as it was, had
drawn pictures in which she and her departed babes were standing
before the throne of the Most High, chanting his glory, and shining
amid the stars--and yet was she now rejoicing that the last and the
most cherished of all her offsprings was likely to be left exposed
to the evils, the vices, nay, to the enormities, of the state of
being that she herself so willingly resigned.

"It is of our boy that I wish now to speak, Mr. Goldencalf," replied
my mother, when her secret devotion was ended. "The child will have
need of instruction and care; in short, of both mother and father."

"Betsey, thou forgettest that he will still have the latter."

"You are much wrapped up in your business, Mr. Goldencalf, and are
not, in other respects, qualified to educate a boy born to the curse
and to the temptations of immense riches."

My excellent ancestor looked as if he thought his dying consort had
in sooth finally taken leave of her senses.

"There are public schools, Betsey; I promise thee the child shall
not be forgotten: I will have him well taught, though it cost me a
thousand a year!"

His wife reached forth her emaciated hand to that of my father, and
pressed the latter with as much force as a dying mother could use.
For a fleet moment she even appeared to have gotten rid of her
latest care. But the knowledge of character that had been acquired
by the hard experience of thirty years, was not to be unsettled by
the gratitude of a moment.

"I wish, Mr. Goldencalf," she anxiously resumed, "to receive your
solemn promise to commit the education of our boy to Dr.
Etherington--you know his worth, and must have full confidence in
such a man."

"Nothing would give me greater satisfaction, my dear Betsey; and if
Dr. Etherington will consent to receive him, I will send Jack to his
house this very evening; for, to own the truth, I am but little
qualified to take charge of a child under a year old. A hundred a
year, more or less, shall not spoil so good a bargain."

The divine was a gentleman, and he looked grave at this speech,
though, meeting the anxious eyes of my mother, his own lost their
displeasure in a glance of reassurance and pity.

"The charges of his education will be easily settled, Mr.
Goldencalf," added my mother; "but the Doctor has consented with
difficulty to take the responsibility of my poor babe, and that only
under two conditions."

The stock-dealer required an explanation with his eyes.

"One is, that the child shall be left solely to his own care, after
he has reached his fourth year; and the other is, that you make an
endowment for the support of two poor scholars, at one of the
principal schools."

As my mother got out the last words, she fell back on her pillow,
whence her interest in the subject had enabled her to lift her head
a little, and she fairly gasped for breath, in the intensity of her
anxiety to hear the answer. My ancestor contracted his brow, like
one who saw it was a subject that required reflection.

"Thou dost not know perhaps, Betsey, that these endowments swallow
up a great deal of money--a great deal--and often very uselessly."

"Ten thousand pounds is the sum that has been agreed upon between
Mrs. Goldencalf and me," steadily remarked the Doctor, who, in my
soul, I believe had hoped that his condition would be rejected,
having yielded to the importunities of a dying woman, rather than to
his own sense of that which might be either very desirable or very
useful.

"Ten thousand pounds!"

My mother could not speak, though she succeeded in making an
imploring sign of assent.

"Ten thousand pounds is a great deal of money, my dear Betsey--a
very great deal!"

The color of my mother changed to the hue of death, and by her
breathing she appeared to be in the agony.

"Well, well, Betsey," said my father a little hastily, for he was
frightened at her pallid countenance and extreme distress, "have it
thine own way--the money, yes, yes--it shall be given as thou
wishest--now set thy kind heart at rest."

The revulsion of feeling was too great for one whose system had been
wound up to a state of excitement like that which had sustained my
mother, who, an hour before, had seemed scarcely able to speak. She
extended her hand toward her husband, smiled benignantly in his
face, whispered the word "Thanks," and then, losing all her powers
of body, sank into the last sleep, as tranquilly as the infant drops
its head on the bosom of the nurse. This was, after all, a sudden,
and, in one sense, an unexpected death: all who witnessed it were
struck with awe. My father gazed for a whole minute intently on the
placid features of his wife, and left the room in silence. He was
followed by Dr. Etherington, who accompanied him to the private
apartment where they had first met that night, neither uttering a
syllable until both were seated.

"She was a good woman, Dr. Etherington!" said the widowed man,
shaking his foot with agitation.

"She was a good woman, Mr. Goldencalf."

"And a good wife, Dr. Etherington."

"I have always believed her to be a good wife, sir."

"Faithful, obedient, and frugal."

"Three qualities that are of much practical use in the affairs of
this world."

"I shall never marry again, sir."

The divine bowed.

"Nay, I never could find such another match!"

Again the divine inclined his head, though the assent was
accompanied by slight smile.

"Well, she has left me an heir."

"And brought something that he might inherit," observed the Doctor,
dryly.

My ancestor looked up inquiringly at his companion, but apparently
most of the sarcasm was thrown away,

"I resign the child to your care, Dr. Etherington, conformably to
the dying request of my beloved Betsey."

"I accept the charge, Mr. Goldencalf, comformably to my promise to
the deceased; but you will remember that there was a condition
coupled with that promise which must be faithfully and promptly
fulfilled."

My ancestor was too much accustomed to respect the punctilios of
trade, whose code admits of frauds only in certain categories, which
are sufficiently explained in its conventional rules of honor; a
sort of specified morality, that is bottomed more on the convenience
of its votaries than on the general law of right. He respected the
letter of his promise while his soul yearned to avoid its spirit;
and his wits were already actively seeking the means of doing that
which he so much desired.

"I did make a promise to poor Betsey, certainly," he answered, in
the way of one who pondered, "and it was a promise, too, made under
very solemn circumstances."

"The promises made to the dead are doubly binding; since, by their
departure to the world of spirits, it may be said they leave the
performance to the exclusive superintendence of the Being who cannot
lie."

My ancestor quailed; his whole frame shuddered, and his purpose was
shaken.

"Poor Betsey left you as her representative in this case, however,
Doctor," he observed, after the delay of more than a minute, casting
his eyes wistfully towards the divine.

"In one sense, she certainly did, sir."

"And a representative with full powers is legally a principal under
a different name. I think this matter might be arranged to our
mutual satisfaction, Dr. Etherington, and the intention of poor
Betsey most completely executed; she, poor woman, knew little of
business, as was best for her sex; and when women undertake affairs
of magnitude, they are very apt to make awkward work of it."

"So that the intention of the deceased be completely fulfilled, you
will not find me exacting, Mr. Goldencalf."

"I thought as much--I knew there could be no difficulty between two
men of sense, who were met with honest views to settle a matter of
this nature. The intention of poor Betsey, Doctor, was to place her
child under your care, with the expectation--and I do not deny its
justice--that the boy would receive more benefit from your knowledge
than he possibly could from mine."

Dr. Etherington was too honest to deny these premises, and too
polite to admit them without an inclination of acknowledgment.

"As we are quite of the same mind, good sir, concerning the
preliminaries," continued my ancestor, "we will enter a little
nearer into the details. It appears to me to be no more than strict
justice, that he who does the work should receive the reward. This
is a principle in which I have been educated, Dr. Etherington; it is
one in which I could wish to have my son educated; and it is one on
which I hope always to practise."

Another inclination of the body conveyed the silent assent of the
divine.

"Now, poor Betsey, Heaven bless her!--for she was a meek and
tranquil companion, and richly deserves to be rewarded in a future
state--but, poor Betsey had little knowledge of business. She
fancied that, in bestowing these ten thousand pounds on a charity,
she was acting well; whereas she was in fact committing injustice.
If you are to have the trouble and care of bringing up little Jack,
who but you should reap the reward?"

"I shall expect, Mr. Goldencalf, that you will furnish the means to
provide for the child's wants."

"Of that, sir, it is unnecessary to speak," interrupted my ancestor,
both promptly and proudly. "I am a wary man, and a prudent man, and
am one who knows the value of money, I trust; but I am no miser, to
stint my own flesh and blood. Jack shall never want for anything,
while it is in my power to give it. I am by no means as rich, sir,
as the neighborhood supposes; but then I am no beggar. I dare say,
if all my assets were fairly counted, it might be found that I am
worth a plum."

"You are said to have received a much larger sum than that with the
late Mrs. Goldencalf," the divine observed, not without reproof in
his voice.

"Ah, dear sir, I need not tell you what vulgar rumor is--but I shall
not undermine my own credit; and we will change the subject. My
object, Dr. Etherington, was merely to do justice. Poor Betsey
desired that ten thousand pounds might be given to found a
scholarship or two: now, what have these scholars done, or what are
they likely to do, for me or mine? The case is different with you,
sir; you will have trouble--much trouble, I make no doubt; and it is
proper that you should have a sufficient compensation. I was about
to propose, therefore, that you should consent to receive my check
for three, or four, or even for five thousand pounds," continued my
ancestor, raising the offer as he saw the frown on the brow of the
Doctor deepen. "Yes, sir, I will even say the latter sum, which
possibly will not be too much for your trouble and care; and we will
forget the womanish plan of poor Betsey in relation to the two
scholarships and the charity. Five thousand pounds down, Doctor, for
yourself, and the subject of the charity forgotten forever."