E. Nesbit - "In Homespun"

James Sheridan Knowles - "The Hunchback"

Holman Day - "All Wool Morrison"

Samuel Johnson - "Preface to a Dictionary of the English Language"

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 Junior Classics Volume 8

S >> Selected and arranged by William Patten >> The Junior Classics Volume 8






A PARROT THAT HAD BEEN TRAINED TO FIRE A CANNON

By Sir Samuel W. Baker

There are no people who surpass the natives of India in the
training of elephants or other wild animals. For many ages the
custom has prevailed among the native princes of that country of
educating not only the elephant and the dog, but the leopard and
the falcon to assist them in the chase.

The Gaekwar of Baroda, during my sojourn in his State, most kindly
furnished me with opportunities of witnessing the excellent
training of his falcons, hunting leopards, or cheetahs, and other
animals.

We were also allowed to inspect the immense collection of jewels
belonging to the Gaekwar. These were in such numbers and variety
that I quite lost my respect for diamonds and rubies, although one
of the former had actually been purchased for $450,000.

The gold and silver batteries of field-guns were also exhibited.
There are only four of these cannon, two of which are solid gold
four-pounders, fitted with an internal tube of steel. The carriages
are plated with gold, and the harness for the team of oxen is
heavily ornamented with the same precious metal. Gold horns are
fitted upon those of the oxen employed, and these animals are
selected for their immense size and general perfection of
appearance.

The silver guns, carriages, limbers, harness, etc., were precisely
similar.

The most interesting artilleryman in his Highness's service was a
small green parrot. This bird was one of many which had been
trained to the various exercises of a field-gun, and it was
exhibited by its native tutor in our presence.

A large table was placed in the arena where rhinoceros, buff aloes,
and rams had been recently struggling for victory in their various
duels, and a far more entertaining exhibition was exchanged for the
savage conflicts.... Upon this table stood a model brass cannon
about eight inches in length of barrel, and a calibre equal to a
No. 12 smooth-bore gun. The rammer and sponger lay by the side of
the small field-piece.

About a dozen green parrots were spectators, who were allowed to
remain on perches, while the best-trained gunner was to perform in
public before at least three thousand spectators, the Gaekwar, and
his ministers, and friends, including ourselves, being seated in a
raised structure similar to the grand stand of an English
racecourse, which commanded the entire arena, the parrots being
immediately beneath.

The gunner was placed upon the table, and at once took its stand by
the gun, and, in an attitude of attention, waited for orders from
its native master.

The word of command was given, and the parrot instantly seized the
sponger in its beak, and inserting it within the muzzle without the
slightest difficulty, vigorously moved it backwards and forwards,
and then replaced it in its former position.

The order was now given "to load." A cartridge was lying on the
table, which the bird immediately took within its beak, and
dexterously inserted in the muzzle; it then seized the rammer, and,
with great determination of purpose and force, rammed the cartridge
completely home, giving it several sharp taps when at the breech.
The parrot replaced the rammer by the side of the sponger, and
waited for further orders, standing erect close to the rear of the
gun.

The trainer poured a pinch of priming powder upon the touch-hole,
and lighted a small port-fire; this he gave to the parrot, which
received it in its beak at a right angle, and then stood by its
gun, waiting for the word.

"Fire!" ... At that instant the parrot applied the match, and the
report of the cannon was so loud that most people started at the
sound; but the pretty green gunner never flinched--the parrot stood
by its gun quite unmoved. The trainer took the port-fire, which it
had never dropped from its beak, and gave an order to sponge the
gun, which was immediately executed, the bird appearing to be quite
delighted at its success.



THE SANDPIPER'S TRICK

By Celia Thaxter

One lovely afternoon in May I had been wandering up and down,
through rocky gorges, by little swampy bits of ground, and on the
tops of windy headlands, looking for flowers, and had found many:
--large blue violets, the like of which you never saw; white
violets, too, creamy and fragrant; gentle little houstonias; gay
and dancing erythroniums, and wind-flowers delicately tinted, blue,
straw-color, pink, and purple. I never found such in the mainland
valleys; the salt air of the sea deepens the colors of all flowers.
I stopped by a swamp which the recent rains had filled and turned
to a little lake. Light green iris-leaves cut the water like sharp
and slender swords, and, in the low sunshine that streamed across,
threw long shadows over the shining surface.

Some blackbirds were calling sweetly in a clump of bushes, and
song-sparrows sang as if they had but one hour in which to crowd
the whole raptures of the spring. As I pressed through the budding
bayberry bushes to reach some milk-white sprays of shadbush which
grew by the water-side, I startled three curfews. They flew away,
trailing their long legs, and whistling fine and clear. I stood
still to watch them out of sight. How full the air was of pleasant
sounds! The very waves made a glad noise about the rocks, and the
whole sea seemed to roar afar off, as if half asleep and murmuring
in a kind of gentle dream. The flock of sheep was scattered here
and there, all washed as white as snow by the plenteous rains, and
nibbling the new grass eagerly; and from near and far came the
tender and plaintive cries of the young lambs.

Going on again, I came to the edge of a little beach, and presently
I was startled by a sound of such terror and distress that it went
to my heart at once.

In a moment a poor little sandpiper emerged from the bushes,
dragging itself along in such a way that, had you seen it, you
would have concluded that every bone in its body had been broken.
Such a dilapidated bird! Its wings drooped and its legs hung as if
almost lifeless. It uttered continually a shrill cry of pain, and
kept just out of the reach of my hand, fluttering hither and
thither, as if sore wounded and weary. At first I was amazed, and
cried out, "Why, friend and gossip! What is the matter?" and then
stood watching it in mute dismay.

Suddenly it flashed across me that this was only my sandpiper's way
of concealing from me a nest; and I remembered reading about this
little trick of hers in a book of natural history. The object was
to make me follow her by pretending that she could not fly, and so
lead me away from her treasure. So I stood perfectly still, lest I
should tread on the precious habitation, and quietly observed my
deceitful little friend.

Her apparently desperate and hopeless condition grew so comical
when I reflected that it was only affectation, that I could not
help laughing, loud and long. "Dear gossip," I called to her, "pray
don't give yourself so much unnecessary trouble! You might know I
wouldn't hurt you or your nest for the world, you most absurd of
birds!"

As if she understood me, and as if she could not bear being
ridiculed, up she rose at once, strong and graceful, and flew off
with a full, round, clear note, delicious to hear.

Then I cautiously looked for the nest, and found it quite close to
my feet, near the stem of a stunted bayberry bush. Mrs. Sandpiper
had only drawn together a few bayberry leaves, brown and glossy, a
little pale green lichen, and a twig or two, and that was a pretty
enough house for her. Four eggs, about as large as robins', were
within, all laid evenly with the small ends together, as is the
tidy fashion of the Sandpiper family. No wonder I did not see them;
for they were pale green like the lichen, with brown spots the
color of the leaves and twigs, and they seemed a part of the
ground, with its confusion of soft neutral tints. I couldn't admire
them enough, but, to relieve my little friend's anxiety, I came
very soon away; and as I came, I marvelled much that so very small
a head should contain such an amount of cunning.



HOW DID THE CANARY DO IT?

By Celia Thaxter

A little friend of mine, who was going away for the winter, asked
me to take charge of one of her canaries till she returned in the
spring. The bird was a foreigner, born and bred in Fayal, and
brought across the water in his youth, a gray-green and golden
little creature, whose name was Willie.

I gladly consented, and one day Willie was brought over from
Jamaica Plains, a distance of ten miles, and deposited in my
parlor. His cage was closely covered with brown paper during the
journey, and he came in the cars, by the roundabout way of Boston.

At first he seemed somewhat lonely and lost, but soon grew very
happy and content in his new home; and well he might be, for he had
all his wants supplied, and did not lack companions.

I had two canaries, a robin, and a song-sparrow, and they soon
began to make beautiful music all together.

The sun could not rise without shining into the parlor windows; it
lingered there all day, till the last glow of the evening-red faded
out of the sky. At two windows the light streamed through green
leaves and gay flowers, and made a most cheerful atmosphere, in
which no bird could possibly help singing. The song-sparrow's
clear, friendly notes seemed to bring May to the very door;
and the robin executed, _sotto voce,_ all his fine out-of-door
melodies, and put one into an April mood with his sweet, melancholy
rain-song.

Willie could not choose but be happy. So they all sang and
chirruped together the whole winter through, and cheered us in that
cold, sad season. Slowly the earth turned daily more and more
toward the sun, and before we were ready to realize so much joy,
the "willow-wands" were spangled with "downy silver," and the alder
catkins began to unwind their long spirals, and swing pliant in the
first winds of March. Then the melting airs of April set the brooks
free, the frogs began to pipe, and there was rare music! Birds came
in flocks, the soft green grass stole gradually over the land, and
dandelions shone gay in the meadows. When beneath a southern window
the flowering almond blossomed, I kept the windows open during fine
weather, and left the bird cages on the sill the whole day. Little
wild birds came and sat on the grapevine trellis above, and
twittered and talked with the captives, and sometimes alighted on
the cages; the pink almond sprays waved round them, and all were,
or seemed to be, as happy as the day is long.

Willie's little mistress returned about this time, and I only
awaited a proper opportunity to return my charge, safe and well,
into her hands. I congratulated myself on his state of health and
spirits, and thought how glad she would be to see him again. But,
alas! for human calculations. One afternoon I went, as usual, to
take in the cage for the night: there was Dick, the robin; and
Philip, the sparrow; and slender Rupert, my own canary, and his
mate; but Willie of Fayal, the green and golden stranger, was gone,
cage and all. I looked out of the window; there lay the cage upon
the ground, empty. Imagine my consternation! Had some strange,
prowling cat devoured--? I was in despair at the thought.

"If it had been any one but Willie," I said, again and again. He
had been intrusted to my care; what should I say when he was
required of me? In real sorrow I wrote to my youthful friend and
told her all. She mourned her bird as dead, but only for a day; for
what do you think happened? The most surprising thing! You never
will guess; so I shall tell you all, at once.

Willie was not devoured; he escaped from his cage, and flew
unerringly back to his former home, ten miles from mine. The night
after he disappeared from my window, he was heard pecking at the
window of the little girl's chamber, but no one noticed him; so he
stayed about the house till morning, and flew in when the window
was opened, and was found perched on the cage of his old companion.

Great was everybody's astonishment, as you may imagine. There was
no mistaking him,--it was Willie, and no other.

Yes, really and truly. Now, how do you suppose he found his way
over all those miles of unfamiliar country, straight to that
chamber window? _What_ guided him? Did he fly high or low?
Probably not high; for his wings were unused to flying at all, and
consequently not strong; but they bore him over woods and fields,
over streets and people, over hundreds of houses, till at last his
tired eyes beheld the tower and gables of his old dwelling-place
rising from among the pleasant woods, and then he knew he might
rest in safety.

But how _could_ he find the way? Supposing birds to have means
of communicating with each other by speech, how would he have put
his questions, wishing to ask his way? Meeting a thrush, or
sparrow, or any other dainty feathered creature, he might perhaps
have hailed it with,--"Good morrow, comrade;" but he couldn't have
said, "Can you tell me the way to Jamaica Plains?" or, "Do you know
where the little girl lives to whom I belong? Her name is May, and
she has golden hair; can you tell me how to find her?" Do you think
he could? Yet he did find her, and until last summer, was still
living in that pretty chamber among the green trees.

Some time, perhaps, we shall understand those things; but until
then, Willie's journey must remain one of the mysterious incidents
in natural history.



A RUNAWAY WHALE

By Captain O.G. Fosdick

"Now, boys," said Captain Daniel, "draw your skiff up beside the
_Greyhound,_ and I'll tell you a story of how I was once run
away with by a whale."

We boys did as we were bid, drawing the skiff well up clear of the
tideway. We clambered on board the _Greyhound_ and, seating
ourselves or the transom, waited for Captain Daniel to begin.
Taking a match from his waistcoat pocket and lighting a long clay
pipe, he spoke:

Along in the fifties I was cabin-boy on the whaling-ship
_Nimrod_, Alarson Coffin, master. We were cruising on the
coast of Brazil when, one day, the lookout, stationed at the
masthead, reported a large school of sperm-whales off our lee-beam.

Captain Coffin, who had taken his spy-glass and gone aloft at the
first cry from the masthead, ordered the boats lowered. As the men
tumbled over one another to be first to reach the monsters, my
young heart danced within me, and our old black steward had to hold
me back, I was so anxious to go.

There was a gentle wind blowing, and the boats' crews, having
hoisted the sails, were fast leaving the ship.

Captain Coffin now ordered the men to get a spare boat from its
cranes over the quarter-deck and fit it with whaling implements.

There were only a few of us left on board for ship-keepers. We
quickly had the boat down from its cranes, and everything ready for
launching.

There were several other whalers off our weather beam, and as soon
as they noticed our boats in the water they squared their yards and
ran down across our stern. Captain Coffin had observed their
manoeuvres, and calling to the ship's cooper, he said, "Bangs, you
will have to take charge of the ship during my absence, for every
one of our boats is fastened to a whale, and the rest of the school
has become gallied, and I don't want those Nantucketers to get
there before our boats secure two whales apiece, at least."

Taking another look at the ships which had now crossed our wake, he
added, "Blast those Nantucketers! They can smell a sperm-whale five
miles to their leeward any time."

He had come down from the rigging, and ordered the head-sails
thrown back. The order was obeyed, and stepping to the ship's
waist, he placed his powerful shoulders against the whale-boat, and
said: "Now, boys, all shove together!"

As the ship rolled to the leeward, out through the gangway shot our
boat and landed safely in the water, and I after her; for you must
know, children, I was so anxious to see the boat launched properly
that as she struck the water I ran to the open gangway, and not
noticing the boat's warp, which the steward had taken the
precaution to fasten taut to the ship's rail, was struck by it and
thrown overboard.

They threw me a bight of rope from the ship, and I clambered back
on deck. Captain Coffin told me to go below and change my dripping
clothes, and then I could go in the boat with him and pull the
after oar. You may lay to it that I flew down those cabin stairs,
for if there was anything in the world I longed for, it was to get
a chance to see a sperm-whale killed.

As Captain Coffin stepped to the bow of the boat he ordered the
black steward to his place at the steering-oar. "Don't be afraid to
lay me right on to them, steward," said he. "Nothing but wood and
black skin will suit me to-day!"

We soon caught up with the other boat. The first and second
officers had each killed a whale, and were then engaged in buoying
a tub, with the _Nimrod's_ name stamped upon it, to their
carcasses. The rest of the school had gone down, and the third and
fourth officers' crews were resting on their oars, waiting for the
attacked whales to break water again.

The other ships now had their boats in the water, and as Captain
Coffin saw them approach he called to his officers: "Don't let the
Nantucketers beat us! They are regular sharks after sperm-oil, but
we have four whales the best of them now. Every man here must
strike his fish to-day."

He had hardly finished his speech when, right beside our boat, an
old bull whale showed his nose out of the water and sent a blast of
hot air out of his spout-holes, which was blown back to us by the
wind.

As we felt the warm breath on our faces, each man checked his oar.
And right here, children, I want to correct a mistaken idea. Whales
don't spout water. It is their hot breath which, like the breath
from a horse's nostrils in winter, shows white against the sky and
looks like water.

The body of the whale which had broken water beside us bore many a
scar, and his back was all covered with barnacles.

"Now, boys, give way to your oars, and you, steward, lay me right
on to him!" spoke Captain Coffin, and as each man gave a steady
pull steward, with a skilful turn of the steering oar, brought the
head of the boat round, and the next instant her bow brought up
against the body of the whale. Captain Coffin's wish was fulfilled,
for, in whalemen's lore, we were "wood and black skin."

Instantly he plunged his harpoon into the monster's quivering
blubber, and with a dexterity that was wonderful in a man of his
size, he seized another and thrust it to the hilt beside the first.

"Stern all! stern all!" he cried, and, as we backed away from the
maddened whale, it turned and, with one sweep of its flukes, sent a
cataract of water over us that almost filled the boat, and drenched
us to the skin. It dived, then, and the whale line ran out of its
tub so rapidly that the loggerhead in the stern, around which was a
turn of the line, smoked like a chimney.

"Pour some water on that line!" cried the steward to the tub
oarsman. And as the man obeyed, the steward tightened the turn on
the rope, and the boat shot ahead like a race-horse.

Soon the whale slackened his speed and rode to the surface, and in
a few moments broke water off our starboard bow. Then Captain
Coffin ordered us to gather in the line and pull him up beside the
whale, and at the same time he took a long lance from its socket
and having braced himself firmly against the bow thwart, stood
ready.

What a moment of awe it was to me as I looked at the monster
angrily lashing the water with its fins and flukes! The next
instant we were beside the whale, and as it rolled on its side
Captain Coffin transfixed him with a thrust of his lance that
seemed to pierce his very vitals. The next moment the blood poured
in gallons from his spout-holes. Having slackened the line from the
boat, we rested on our oars at a safe distance and watched the
monster circling around in its dying fury.

During this time the rest of the boats had each secured another
whale. The crew in the third officer's boat appeared to be making
signals of distress, and Captain Coffin ordered us to cut loose
from our whale and go quickly to their assistance.

We saw as we drew near them that the gunwale and the two upper
streaks of their boat had been stove by their last whale, and the
officer was about to throw all the whaling implements overboard, in
order to lighten her, for the crew were desperately bailing out the
water, which was pouring in through the broken seams. She was fast
sinking.

Captain Coffin at once ordered the men to get into our boat with
their implements, and taking the smashed boat in tow, we returned
to our own whale, which appeared to be fast dying.

The captain, after securing the end of the severed whale-line,
attached it to the line in the third officer's boat, and then told
me to get into the stoven boat, and remain by the whale, while he
carried the rescued crew to the ship.

As he left me he sang out, "Don't let those Nantucketers steal the
whale from you, boy, for I feel proud of my work to-day! That is
the largest whale I ever saw." Turning to the third officer, he
added, "And I killed it in the good old-fashioned hand-lance style,
and didn't touch the new-fangled bomb-gun that the owners put in
all our boats."

As the boats separated, I turned and watched the dying whale. It
was slowly swimming around in a large circle, and the blood was
just oozing from its spout-holes as it came to the surface to
breathe.

The sun was about a handspike high from the horizon. There was
considerable water left in the boat, which, empty of men, now
floated high; so I took a bucket and busied myself in bailing it
out. After bailing awhile, I leaned back against the thwarts and
took another look at the whale. The creature was not dead yet, and
there did not seem to be any blood coming from its spout-holes. In
fact, it seemed to be spouting all right, and was not circling
around any more, but was swimming slowly ahead. What did it mean?
Could Captain Coffin have fastened me to the wrong whale? I asked
myself. I began to feel frightened, for all of a sudden the monster
began to beat the water again with its flukes, and the boat was
going at a faster rate of speed.

The sun had now reached the water's edge, and I could not see any
boat coming. What should I do if the whale turned on me? I looked
round for a knife to cut the whale-line, but could not find one.
The crew had taken all the knives with them. The whale had
disappeared, and the line was fast running out of its tub. Faster
and faster it ran, until, with a jerk, the end flew from the tub,
and I thought I was free.

But alas, no! for when the crew were being changed one of them had
fastened the small tub, which is used for a drag, in the end of the
line, and it was yanked under the bow thwart and jammed there.

The boat now shot ahead with furious speed. It was growing darker,
and I could scarcely make out the ship. In vain I looked for the
boat. Would it never come!

To add to my trouble, the rest of the whales had joined the old
bull, and were hoarsely spouting and leaping out of the water
all around me. In fact, there were whales everywhere, on both
sides of the boat, and down beneath it. I could dimly see their
greenish-white reflections as they swam just beneath the surface.

One old cow whale and her calf were close beside me, and as they
came up to spout I could feel the water from the splash of the
little one's flukes. As a boy on shipboard I had often longed for a
little whale to play with, but the desire had all left me now, for
I crouched down in the boat and covered my face with my hands.

Oh, if the captain would only come and take me out of that boat! I
would never go to sea again, I thought.

Suddenly the boat stopped with a jerk, and uncovering my face, I
saw a sight that made me scream with fright. Right in front of me
was a large sperm-whale's head, with its jaws wide open, and its
long row of white, glistening teeth shining from the phosphorescent
brightness of the water. With a snap its mouth closed, and it sank
out of sight, while I, falling on my knees, asked God to save me.

After that I felt better, and managed to crawl under the
stem-sheets for shelter, for I was chilled through. It was quite
dark, although the stars shone brightly. The whale seemed to have
got free, for the boat was idly rocking on the water.

In changing my cramped form to an upright position, my hand came
against a hard, round piece of iron. A feeling of security, of
advantage, of longing for battle ran through me as my hand rested
on the cold steel. It was one of the captain's bomb-guns, which was
so despised by him, but which might be the means of saving me from
an awful death. I pulled it from its socket, and fondled it in my
excitement and relief at finding some means of defence.

I found I was able to lift the gun to my shoulder, and my pulse
beat with renewed vigor as I raised the hammer and found the gun
was loaded. So great was my joy that I forgot for the moment the
terrible uncertainty of my position, and almost wished the whale
would come back. I did not feel so long, for the next instant the
boat began to move.