Walter Lippmann - "Public Opinion"

Unknown - "Sangharakshita, Vision and Transformation"

Henry James - "The Pension Beaurepas"

Max Nordau - "The Malady of the Century"

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: The Pathfinder

J >> James Fenimore Cooper >> The Pathfinder




This was the fearful moment for Mabel. The Indians, in their
present condition, were reckless of any rifles that the blockhouse
might hold, though they did retain dim recollections of its containing
living beings, an additional incentive to their enterprise; and
they approached its base whooping and leaping like demons. As yet
they were excited, not overcome by the liquor they had drunk. The
first attempt was made at the door, against which they ran in a
body; but the solid structure, which was built entirely of logs,
defied their efforts. The rush of a hundred men with the same
object would have been useless. This Mabel, however, did not
know; and her heart seemed to leap into her mouth as she heard
the heavy shock at each renewed effort. At length, when she found
that the door resisted these assaults as if it were of stone,
neither trembling nor yielding, and only betraying its not being
a part of the wall by rattling a little on its heavy hinges, her
courage revived, and she seized the first moment of a cessation to
look down through the loop, in order, if possible, to learn the
extent of her danger. A silence, for which it was not easy to
account, stimulated her curiosity; for nothing is so alarming to
those who are conscious of the presence of imminent danger, as to
be unable to trace its approach.

Mabel found that two or three of the Iroquois had been raking the
embers, where they had found a few small coals, and with these they
were endeavoring to light a fire. The interest with which they
labored, the hope of destroying, and the force of habit, enabled
them to act intelligently and in unison, so long as their fell
object was kept in view. A white man would have abandoned the
attempt to light a fire in despair, with coals that came out of
the ashes resembling sparks; but these children of the forest had
many expedients that were unknown to civilization. By the aid of
a few dry leaves, which they alone knew where to seek, a blaze was
finally kindled, and then the addition of a few light sticks made
sure of the advantage that had been obtained. When Mabel stooped
down over the loop, the Indians were making a pile of brush against
the door, and as she remained gazing at their proceedings, she saw
the twigs ignite, the flame dart from branch to branch, until the
whole pile was cracking and snapping under a bright blaze. The
Indians now gave a yell of triumph, and returned to their companions,
well assured that the work of destruction was commenced. Mabel
remained looking down, scarcely able to tear herself away from
the spot, so intense and engrossing was the interest she felt in
the progress of the fire. As the pile kindled throughout, however,
the flames mounted, until they flashed so near her eyes as to
compel her to retreat. Just as she reached the opposite side of
the room, to which she had retired in her alarm, a forked stream
shot up through the loophole, the lid of which she had left open,
and illuminated the rude apartment, with Mabel and her desolation.
Our heroine now naturally enough supposed that her hour was come;
for the door, the only means of retreat, had been blocked up by the
brush and fire, with hellish ingenuity, and she addressed herself,
as she believed, for the last time to her Maker in prayer. Her eyes
were closed, and for more than a minute her spirit was abstracted;
but the interests of the world too strongly divided her feelings
to be altogether suppressed; and when they involuntarily opened
again, she perceived that the streak of flame was no longer flaring
in the room, though the wood around the little aperture had kindled,
and the blaze was slowly mounting under the impulsion of a current
of air that sucked inward. A barrel of water stood in a corner; and
Mabel, acting more by instinct than by reason, caught up a vessel,
filled it, and, pouring it on the wood with a trembling hand,
succeeded in extinguishing the fire at that particular spot. The
smoke prevented her from looking down again for a couple of minutes;
but when she did her heart beat high with delight and hope at finding
that the pile of blazing brush had been overturned and scattered,
and that water had been thrown on the logs of the door, which were
still smoking though no longer burning.

"Who is there?" said Mabel, with her mouth at the loop. "What
friendly hand has a merciful Providence sent to my succor?"

A light footstep was audible below, and one of those gentle pushes
at the door was heard, which just moved the massive beams on the
hinges.

"Who wishes to enter? Is it you, dear, dear uncle?"

"Saltwater no here. St. Lawrence sweet water," was the answer.
"Open quick; want to come in."

The step of Mabel was never lighter, or her movements more quick
and natural, than while she was descending the ladder and turning
the bars, for all her motions were earnest and active. This time
she thought only of her escape, and she opened the door with a
rapidity which did not admit of caution. Her first impulse was to
rush into the open air, in the blind hope of quitting the blockhouse;
but June repulsed the attempt, and entering, she coolly barred the
door again before she would notice Mabel's eager efforts to embrace
her.

"Bless you! bless you, June!" cried our heroine most fervently;
"you are sent by Providence to be my guardian angel!"

"No hug so tight," answered the Tuscarora woman. "Pale-face woman
all cry, or all laugh. Let June fasten door."

Mabel became more rational, and in a few minutes the two were again
in the upper room, seated as before, hand in hand, all feeling of
distrust between them being banished.

"Now tell me, June," Mabel commenced as soon as she had given and
received one warm embrace, "have you seen or heard aught of my poor
uncle?"

"Don't know. No one see him; no one hear him; no one know anyt'ing.
Saltwater run into river, I t'ink, for I no find him. Quartermaster
gone too. I look, and look, and look; but no see' em, one, t'other,
nowhere."

"Blessed be God! They must have escaped, though the means are not
known to us. I thought I saw a Frenchman on the island, June."

"Yes: French captain come, but he go away too. Plenty of Indian
on island."

"Oh, June, June, are there no means to prevent my beloved father
from falling into the hands of his enemies?"

"Don't know; t'ink dat warriors wait in ambush, and Yengeese must
lose scalp."

"Surely, surely, June, you, who have done so much for the daughter,
will not refuse to help the father?"

"Don't know fader, don't love fader. June help her own people,
help Arrowhead -- husband love scalp."

"June, this is not yourself. I cannot, will not believe that you
wish to see our men murdered!"

June turned her dark eyes quietly on Mabel; and for a moment her
look was stern, though it was soon changed into one of melancholy
compassion.

"Lily, Yengeese girl?" she said, as one asks a question.

"Certainly, and as a Yengeese girl I would save my countrymen from
slaughter."

"Very good, if can. June no Yengeese, June Tuscarora -- got
Tuscarora husband -- Tuscarora heart -- Tuscarora feeling -- all
over Tuscarora. Lily wouldn't run and tell French that her fader
was coming to gain victory?"

"Perhaps not," returned Mabel, pressing a hand on a brain that felt
bewildered, -- "perhaps not; but you serve me, aid me -- have saved
me, June! Why have you done this, if you only feel as a Tuscarora?"

"Don't only feel as Tuscarora; feel as girl, feel as squaw. Love
pretty Lily, and put it in my bosom."

Mabel melted into tears, and she pressed the affectionate creature
to her heart. It was near a minute before she could renew the
discourse, but then she succeeded in speaking more calmly and with
greater coherence.

"Let me know the worst, June," said she. "To-night your people
are feasting; what do they intend to do to-morrow?"

"Don't know; afraid to see Arrowhead, afraid to ask question; t'ink
hide away till Yengeese come back."

"Will they not attempt anything against the blockhouse? You have
seen what they can threaten if they will."

"Too much rum. Arrowhead sleep, or no dare; French captain gone
away, or no dare. All go to sleep now."

"And you think I am safe for this night, at least?"

"Too much rum. If Lily like June, might do much for her people."

"I am like you, June, if a wish to serve my countrymen can make a
resemblance with one as courageous as yourself."

"No, no, no!" muttered June in a low voice; "no got heart, and June
no let you, if had. June's moder prisoner once, and warriors got
drunk; moder tomahawked 'em all. Such de way red skin women do
when people in danger and want scalp."

"You say what is true," returned Mabel, shuddering, and unconsciously
dropping June's hand. "I cannot do that. I have neither the
strength, the courage, nor the will to dip my hands in blood."

"T'ink that too; then stay where you be -- blockhouse good -- got
no scalp."

"You believe, then, that I am safe here, at least until my father
and his people return?"

"Know so. No dare touch blockhouse in morning. Hark! all still
now -- drink rum till head fall down, and sleep like log."

"Might I not escape? Are there not several canoes on the island?
Might I not get one, and go and give my father notice of what has
happened?"

"Know how to paddle?" demanded June, glancing her eye furtively at
her companion.

"Not so well as yourself, perhaps; but enough to get out of sight
before morning."

"What do then? -- couldn't paddle six -- ten -- eight mile!"

"I do not know; I would do much to warn my father, and the excellent
Pathfinder, and all the rest, of the danger they are in."

"Like Pathfinder?"

"All like him who know him -- you would like him, nay, love him,
if you only knew his heart!"

"No like him at all. Too good rifle -- too good eye --too much
shoot Iroquois and June's people. Must get his scalp if can."

"And I must save it if I can, June. In this respect, then, we are
opposed to each other. I will go and find a canoe the instant they
are all asleep, and quit the island."

"No can -- June won't let you. Call Arrowhead."

"June! you would not betray me -- you could not give me up after
all you have done for me?"

"Just so," returned June, making a backward gesture with her hand,
and speaking with a warmth and earnestness Mabel had never witnessed
in her before. "Call Arrowhead in loud voice. One call from wife
wake a warrior up. June no let Lily help enemy -- no let Indian
hurt Lily."

"I understand you, June, and feel the nature and justice of your
sentiments; and, after all, it were better that I should remain
here, for I have most probably overrated my strength. But tell me
one thing: if my uncle comes in the night, and asks to be admitted,
you will let me open the door of the blockhouse that he may enter?"

"Sartain -- he prisoner here, and June like prisoner better than
scalp; scalp good for honor, prisoner good for feeling. But
Saltwater hide so close, he don't know where he be himself."

Here June laughed in her girlish, mirthful way, for to her scenes
of violence were too familiar to leave impressions sufficiently deep
to change her natural character. A long and discursive dialogue
now followed, in which Mabel endeavored to obtain clearer notions
of her actual situation, under a faint hope that she might possibly
be enabled to turn some of the facts she thus learned to advantage.
June answered all her interrogatories simply, but with a caution
which showed she fully distinguished between that which was immaterial
and that which might endanger the safety or embarrass the future
operations of her friends. The substance of the information she
gave may be summed up as follows.

Arrowhead had long been in communication with the French, though this
was the first occasion on which he had entirely thrown aside the
mask. He no longer intended to trust himself among the English, for
he had discovered traces of distrust, particularly in Pathfinder;
and, with Indian bravado, he now rather wished to blazon than
to conceal his treachery. He had led the party of warriors in
the attack on the island, subject, however, to the supervision of
the Frenchman who has been mentioned, though June declined saying
whether he had been the means of discovering the position of a
place which had been thought to be so concealed from the enemy or
not. On this point she would say nothing; but she admitted that
she and her husband had been watching the departure of the _Scud_
at the time they were overtaken and captured by the cutter. The
French had obtained their information of the precise position
of the station but very recently; and Mabel felt a pang when she
thought that there were covert allusions of the Indian woman which
would convey the meaning that the intelligence had come from a
pale-face in the employment of Duncan of Lundie. This was intimated,
however, rather than said; and when Mabel had time to reflect on her
companion's words, she found room to hope that she had misunderstood
her, and that Jasper Western would yet come out of the affair freed
from every injurious imputation.

June did not hesitate to confess that she had been sent to the
island to ascertain the precise number and the occupations of those
who had been left on it, though she also betrayed in her _naive_
way that the wish to serve Mabel had induced her principally to
consent to come. In consequence of her report, and information
otherwise obtained, the enemy was aware of precisely the force
that could be brought against them. They also knew the number of
men who had gone with Sergeant Dunham, and were acquainted with
the object he had in view, though they were ignorant of the spot
where he expected to meet the French boats. It would have been
a pleasant sight to witness the eager desire of each of these two
sincere females to ascertain all that might be of consequence to
their respective friends; and yet the native delicacy with which each
refrained from pressing the other to make revelations which would
have been improper, as well as the sensitive, almost intuitive,
feeling with which each avoided saying aught that might prove
injurious to her own nation. As respects each other, there was
perfect confidence; as regarded their respective people, entire
fidelity. June was quite as anxious as Mabel could be on any other
point to know where the Sergeant had gone and when he was expected
to return; but she abstained from putting the question, with a
delicacy that would have done honor to the highest civilization;
nor did she once frame any other inquiry in a way to lead indirectly
to a betrayal of the much-desired information on that particular
point: though when Mabel of her own accord touched on any matter
that might by possibility throw a light on the subject, she listened
with an intentness which almost suspended respiration.

In this manner the hours passed away unheeded, for both were too
much interested to think of rest. Nature asserted her rights,
however, towards morning; and Mabel was persuaded to lie down on
one of the straw beds provided for the soldiers, where she soon
fell into a deep sleep. June lay near her and a quiet reigned on
the whole island as profound as if the dominion of the forest had
never been invaded by man.

When Mabel awoke the light of the sun was streaming in through the
loopholes, and she found that the day was considerably advanced.
June still lay near her, sleeping as tranquilly as if she reposed
on -- we will not say "down," for the superior civilization of
our own times repudiates the simile -- but on a French mattress,
and as profoundly as if she had never experienced concern. The
movements of Mabel, notwithstanding, soon awakened one so accustomed
to vigilance; and then the two took a survey of what was passing
around them by means of the friendly apertures.



CHAPTER XXIII.

What had the Eternall Maker need of thee,
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all things deface? ne lettest see
The beautie of his worke? Indeede in sleepe,
The slouth full body that doth love to steepe
His lustlesse limbs, and drowne his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe,
Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind,
And great dame Nature's hand-maide, chearing every kinde.
_Faerie Queene._


The tranquillity of the previous night was not contradicted by
the movements of the day. Although Mabel and June went to every
loophole, not a sign of the presence of a living being on the
island was at first to be seen, themselves excepted. There was a
smothered fire on the spot where M'Nab and his comrades had cooked,
as if the smoke which curled upwards from it was intended as a lure
to the absent; and all around the huts had been restored to former
order and arrangement. Mabel started involuntarily when her eye
at length fell on a group of three men, dressed in the scarlet of
the 55th, seated on the grass in lounging attitudes, as if they
chatted in listless security; and her blood curdled as, on a second
look, she traced the bloodless faces and glassy eyes of the dead.
They were very near the blockhouse, so near indeed as to have been
overlooked at the first eager inquiry, and there was a mocking levity
in their postures and gestures, for their limbs were stiffening in
different attitudes, intended to resemble life, at which the soul
revolted. Still, horrible as these objects were to those near
enough to discover the frightful discrepancy between their assumed
and their real characters, the arrangement had been made with so
much art that it would have deceived a negligent observer at the
distance of a hundred yards. After carefully examining the shores
of the island, June pointed out to her companion the fourth soldier,
seated, with his feet hanging over the water, his back fastened to
a sapling, and holding a fishing-rod in his hand. The scalpless
heads were covered with the caps, and all appearance of blood had
been carefully washed from each countenance.

Mabel sickened at this sight, which not only did so much violence
to all her notions of propriety, but which was in itself so revolting
and so opposed to natural feeling. She withdrew to a seat, and hid
her face in her apron for several minutes, until a low call from
June again drew her to a loophole. The latter then pointed out
the body of Jennie seemingly standing in the door of a hut, leaning
forward as if to look at the group of men, her cap fluttering in
the wind, and her hand grasping a broom. The distance was too great
to distinguish the features very accurately; but Mabel fancied
that the jaw had been depressed, as if to distort the mouth into
a sort of horrible laugh.

"June! June!" she exclaimed; "this exceeds all I have ever heard,
or imagined as possible, in the treachery and artifices of your
people."

"Tuscarora very cunning," said June, in a way to show that she
rather approved of than condemned the uses to which the dead bodies
had been applied. "Do soldier no harm now; do Iroquois good; got
the scalp first; now make bodies work. By and by, burn 'em."

This speech told Mabel how far she was separated from her friend in
character; and it was several minutes before she could again address
her. But this temporary aversion was lost on June, who set about
preparing their simple breakfast, in a way to show how insensible
she was to feelings in others which her own habits taught her to
discard. Mabel ate sparingly, and her companion, as if nothing
had happened. Then they had leisure again for their thoughts, and
for further surveys of the island. Our heroine, though devoured
with a feverish desire to be always at the loops, seldom went that
she did not immediately quit them in disgust, though compelled by
her apprehensions to return again in a few minutes, called by the
rustling of leaves, or the sighing of the wind. It was, indeed,
a solemn thing to look out upon that deserted spot, peopled by the
dead in the panoply of the living, and thrown into the attitudes
and acts of careless merriment and rude enjoyment. The effect on
our heroine was much as if she had found herself an observer of
the revelries of demons.

Throughout the livelong day not an Indian nor a Frenchman was to
be seen, and night closed over the frightful but silent masquerade,
with the steady and unalterable progress with which the earth obeys
her laws, indifferent to the petty actors and petty scenes that
are in daily bustle and daily occurrence on her bosom. The night
was far more quiet than that which had preceded it, and Mabel slept
with an increasing confidence; for she now felt satisfied that her
own fate would not be decided until the return of her father. The
following day he was expected, however, and when our heroine awoke,
she ran eagerly to the loops in order to ascertain the state of
the weather and the aspect of the skies, as well as the condition
of the island. There lounged the fearful group on the grass; the
fisherman still hung over the water, seemingly intent on his sport;
and the distorted countenance of Jennie glared from out the hut in
horrible contortions. But the weather had changed; the wind blew
fresh from the southward, and though the air was bland, it was
filled with the elements of storm.

"This grows more and more difficult to bear, June," Mabel said,
when she left the window. "I could even prefer to see the enemy
than to look any longer on this fearful array of the dead."

"Hush! Here they come. June thought hear a cry like a warrior's
shout when he take a scalp."

"What mean you? There is no more butchery! -- there can be no
more."

"Saltwater!" exclaimed June, laughing, as she stood peeping through
a loophole.

"My dear uncle! Thank God! he then lives! Oh, June, June, _you_
will not let them harm _him?_"

"June, poor squaw. What warrior t'ink of what she say? Arrowhead
bring him here."

By this time Mabel was at a loop; and, sure enough, there were Cap
and the Quartermaster in the hands of the Indians, eight or ten of
whom were conducting them to the foot of the block, for, by this
capture, the enemy now well knew that there could be no man in
the building. Mabel scarcely breathed until the whole party stood
ranged directly before the door, when she was rejoiced to see that
the French officer was among them. A low conversation followed,
in which both the white leader and Arrowhead spoke earnestly to
their captives, when the Quartermaster called out to her in a voice
loud enough to be heard.

"Pretty Mabel! Pretty Mabel!" said he; "Look out of one of the
loopholes, and pity our condition. We are threatened with instant
death unless you open the door to the conquerors. Relent, then
or we'll no' be wearing our scalps half an hour from this blessed
moment."

Mabel thought there were mockery and levity in this appeal, and
its manner rather fortified than weakened her resolution to hold
the place as long as possible.

"Speak to me, uncle," said she, with her mouth at a loop, "and tell
me what I ought to do."

"Thank God! thank God!" ejaculated Cap; "the sound of your sweet
voice, Magnet, lightens my heart of a heavy load, for I feared you
had shared the fate of poor Jennie. My breast has felt the last
four-and-twenty hours as if a ton of kentledge had been stowed in
it. You ask me what you ought to do, child, and I do not know how
to advise you, though you are my own sister's daughter! The most
I can say just now, my poor girl, is most heartily to curse the
day you or I ever saw this bit of fresh water."

"But, uncle, is your life in danger -- do _you_ think I ought to
open the door?"

"A round turn and two half-hitches make a fast belay; and I would
counsel no one who is out of the hands of these devils to unbar or
unfasten anything in order to fall into them. As to the Quartermaster
and myself, we are both elderly men, and not of much account to
mankind in general, as honest Pathfinder would say; and it can make
no great odds to him whether he balances the purser's books this
year or the next; and as for myself, why, if I were on the seaboard,
I should know what to do, but up here, in this watery wilderness,
I can only say, that if I were behind that bit of a bulwark, it
would take a good deal of Indian logic to rouse me out of it."

"You'll no' be minding all your uncle says, pretty Mabel," put in
Muir, "for distress is obviously fast unsettling his faculties, and
he is far from calculating all the necessities of the emergency.
We are in the hands here of very considerate and gentlemanly
pairsons, it must be acknowledged, and one has little occasion to
apprehend disagreeable violence. The casualties that have occurred
are the common incidents of war, and can no' change our sentiments
of the enemy, for they are far from indicating that any injustice
will be done the prisoners. I'm sure that neither Master Cap nor
myself has any cause of complaint since we have given ourselves
up to Master Arrowhead, who reminds me of a Roman or a Spartan by
his virtues and moderation; but ye'll be remembering that usages
differ, and that our scalps may be lawful sacrifices to appease
the manes of fallen foes, unless you save them by capitulation."