John Lothrop Motley - "The Rise of the Dutch Republic, 1555 59"

F. W. Moorman - "Songs of the Ridings"

Lafayette - "Memoirs of General Lafayette"

John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1609"

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: Jan of the Windmill

J >> Juliana Horatia Ewing >> Jan of the Windmill




Withheld from sacrificing his affections to his brother, Jan joined
with his father to cut off the entail of his property. "D'Arcy is
your heir, sir," he said. "I hope to live well by my art, and GOD
forbid that I should disinherit Lady Adelaide's son."

His great gift did indeed bring fortune as well as fame to our hero.

The Boys' Home knows this. It has some generous patrons (it should
have many!), and first amongst them must rank the great painter who
sometimes presides at its annual festival, and is wont on such
occasions pleasantly to speak of himself as "an old boy."

More accurately entitled to that character is the bow-legged man-
servant of another artist,--Jan's old master. These two live on
together, and each would find it difficult to say whether pride and
pleasure in the good luck of their old companion, or the never
healed pain of his loss, is the stronger feeling in their kindly
hearts.

Amabel was her father's heir, and in process of time Jan became the
Squire, and went back to spend his life under the skies which
inspired his childhood. But his wife is wont to say that she
believes his true vocation was to be a miller, so strong is the love
of windmills in him, and so proud is he of his Miller's Thumb.

At one time Mr. Ammaby wished him to take his name and arms, but Jan
decided to keep his own. And it is by this name that Fame writes
him in her roll of painters, and not by that of the old Squires of
Ammaby, nor by the name he bore when he was a Child of the Windmill.



CHAPTER XLII.

CONCLUSION.

A south-west wind is blowing over the plains. It drives the
"messengers" over the sky, and the sails of the windmill, and makes
the dead leaves dance upon the graves. It does much to dispel the
evil effects of the foul smells and noxious gases, which are
commoner yet in the little village than one might suppose. (But it
is a long time, you see, since the fever was here.) It shows the
silver lining of the willow leaves by the little river, and bends
the flowers which grow in one glowing mass--like some gorgeous
Eastern carpet--on Master Swift's grave. It rocks Jan's sign in
mid-air above the Heart of Oak, where Master Chuter is waiting upon
a newly arrived guest.

It is the man of business. Long has he promised to try the breezes
of the plains for what he calls dyspepsia, and the artist calls
"money-grubbing-on-the-brain," but he never could find leisure,
until a serious attack obliged him to do so. But at that moment the
painter could not leave London, and he is here alone. He has not
said that he knows Jan, for it amuses him to hear the little
innkeeper ramble on with anecdotes of the great painter's childhood.

"This ale is fine," says the man of business. "I never can touch
beer at home. The painter is married, you say?"

"He've been married these two year," Master Chuter replies. "And
they do say Miss Amabel have been partial to him from a child. He
come down here, sir, soon after his father took to him, and he draad
out Miss Amabel's old white horse for her; and the butler have told
me, sir, that it hangs in the library now. It be more fit for an
inn sign, sartinly, it be, but the gentry has their whims, sir, and
Miss Amabel was a fine young lady. The Squire's moral image she be;
affable and free, quite different to her ladyship. Coffee, sir?
No, sir? Dined, sir? It be a fine evening, sir, if you'd like to
see the church. I'd be glad to show it you, myself, sir. Old
Solomon have got the key."

In the main street of the village even the man of business strolls.
There is no hurrying in this atmosphere. It is a matter of time to
find Old Solomon, and of more time to make him hear when he is
found, and of most time for him to find the key when he hears. But
time is not money to the merchant just now, and he watches the
western sky patiently, and is made sleepy by the breeze. When at
last they saunter under the shadow of the gray church tower, his eye
is caught by the mass of color, out of which springs a high cross of
white marble, whose top is just flushed by the setting sun. It is
of fine design and workmanship, and marks the grave where the great
man's schoolmaster sleeps near his wife and child. Hard by, Master
Chuter shows the "fever monument," and the names of Master Lake's
children. And then, as Daddy Solomon has fumbled the door open,
they pass into the church. The east end has been restored, the
innkeeper says, by the Squire, under the advice of his son-in-law.

And then they turn to look at the west window,--the new window, the
boast of the parish,--at which even old Solomon strains his withered
eyes with a sense of pride. The man of business stands where Jan
used to sit. The unchanged faces look down on him from the old
window. But it is not the old window that he looks at, it is the
new one. The glory of the setting sun illumines it, and throws
crimson lights from the vesture of the principal figure--like stains
of blood--upon the pavement.

"It be the Good Shepherd," Master Chuter explains, but his guest is
silent. The pale-faced, white-haired angels in the upper lights
seem all ablaze, and Old Solomon cannot look at them.

"Them sheep be beautiful," whispers the innkeeper; but the stranger
heeds him not. He is reading the inscription: -

To the Glory of GOD,
And in pious memory of Abel, my dear foster-brother:
I, who designed this window,
Dedicate it.

HE shall gather the lambs into His arms.




Footnotes:

{1} Windmiller's candlesticks are flat candlesticks made of iron,
with a long handle on one side, and a sharp spike on the other, by
which they can be stuck into the wall, or into a sack of grain, or
anywhere that may be convenient. Each man who works in the mill has
a candlestick, and one is always kept alight and stationary on the
basement floor.

{2} The blue marks on the hands of a miller who "sets" his own
stones are called in the trade the "miller's coat of arms."