Aubrey de Vere - "The Legends of Saint Patrick"

John Fox, Jr. - "The Heart Of The Hills"

John Lothrop Motley - "The Life of John of Barneveld, 1613 15"

Rev. James Hamilton - "Life of Bunyan"

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




In the course of time, however, the bell-rope wore thin, and some
ingenious citizen fastened a wisp of hay to it, that this might
serve as a handle. One day in the height of summer, when the
deserted square was blazing with sunlight, and most of the citizens
were taking their noonday rest, their siesta was disturbed by the
violent pealing of the bell.

"Surely some great injustice has been done," they cried, shaking
off their languor and hastening to the square. To their amazement
they found it empty of all human beings save themselves; no angry
supplicant appealed for justice, but a poor old horse, lame and
half blind, with bones that nearly broke through his skin, was
trying with pathetic eagerness to eat the wisp of hay. In
struggling to do this, he had rung the bell, and the judge,
summoned so hastily for so slight a cause, was stirred to
indignation.

"To whom does this wretched horse belong?" he shouted wrathfully.
"What business has it here?"

"Sir, he belongs to a rich nobleman, who lives in that splendid
palace whose tall towers glisten white above the palm-grove," said
an old man, coming forward with a deep bow. "Time was that he bore
his master to battle, carrying him dauntlessly amid shot and shell,
and more than once saving his life by his courage and fleetness.
When the horse became old and feeble, he was turned adrift, since
his master had no further use for him; and now the poor creature
picks up what food he can in highways and byways."

On hearing this the judge's face grew dark with anger. "Bring his
master before me," he thundered, and when the amazed nobleman
appeared, he questioned him more sternly than he would have done
the meanest peasant.

"Is it true," he demanded, "that you left this, your faithful
servant, to starve, since he could no longer serve you? It is long
since I heard of such gross injustice--are you not ashamed?"

The nobleman hung his head in silence; he had no word to say in his
own defence as with scathing contempt the judge rebuked him, adding
that in future he would neglect the horse at his peril.

"For the rest of his life," he said, "you shall care for the poor
beast as he deserves, so that after his long term of faithful
service he may end his days in peace."

This decision was greeted with loud applause by the town folk, who
gathered in the square.

"Our bell is superior to all others," they said to each other, with
nods and smiles, "for it is the means of gaining justice, not only
for men, but for animals too in their time of need."

And with shouts of triumph they led the old war-horse back to his
stable, knowing that for the future its miserly owner would not
dare to begrudge it the comfort to which it was so justly entitled.



WHAT GINGER TOLD BLACK BEAUTY

By Anna Sewell

One day when Ginger and I were standing alone in the shade, we had
a great deal of talk; she wanted to know all about my bringing up
and breaking in, and I told her.

"Well," said she, "if I had had your bringing up, I might have had
as good a temper as you, but now I don't believe I ever shall."

"Why not?" I said.

"Because it has been all so different with me," she replied. "I
never had any one, horse or man, that was kind to me, or that I
cared to please, for in the first place I was taken from my mother
as soon as I was weaned, and put with a lot of other young colts;
none of them cared for me, and I cared for none of them. There was
no kind master like yours to look after me, and talk to me, and
bring me nice things to eat. The man that had the care of us never
gave me a kind word in my life. I do not mean that he ill-used me,
but he did not care for us one bit further than to see that we had
plenty to eat, and shelter in the winter. A footpath ran through
our field and very often the great boys passing through would fling
stones to make us gallop. I was never hit, but one fine young colt
was badly cut in the face, and I should think it would be a scar
for life. We did not care for them, but of course it made us more
wild, and we settled it in our minds that boys were our enemies. We
had very good fun in the free meadows, galloping up and down and
chasing each other round and round the field; then standing still
under the shade of the trees. But when it came to breaking in, that
was a bad time for me; several men came to catch me, and when at
last they closed me in at one corner of the field, one caught me by
the forelock, another caught me by the nose and held it so tight I
could hardly draw my breath; then another took my under jaw in his
hard hand and wrenched my mouth open, and so by force they got on
the halter and the bar into my mouth; then one dragged me along by
the halter, another flogging behind, and this was the first
experience I had of men's kindness; it was all force. They did not
give me a chance to know what they wanted. I was high bred and had
a great deal of spirit and was very wild, no doubt, and gave them,
I dare say, plenty of trouble, but then it was dreadful to be shut
up in a stall day after day instead of having my liberty, and I
fretted and pined and wanted to get loose. You know yourself it's
bad enough when you have a kind master and plenty of coaxing, but
there was nothing of that sort for me.

"There was one--the old master, Mr. Ryder--who, I think, could soon
have brought me round, and could have done anything with me; but he
had given up all the hard part of the trade to his son and to
another experienced man, and he only came at times to oversee. His
son was a strong, tall, bold man; they called him Samson, and he
used to boast that he had never found a horse that could throw him.
There was no gentleness in him, as there was in his father, but
only hardness, a hard voice, a hard eye, a hard hand; and I felt
from the first that what he wanted was to wear all the spirit out
of me, and just make me into a quiet, humble, obedient piece of
horse-flesh. 'Horse-flesh!' Yes, that is all that he thought
about," and Ginger stamped her foot as if the very thought of him
made her angry. Then she went on:

"If I did not do exactly what he wanted, he would get put out, and
make me run round with that long rein in the training field till he
had tired me out. I think he drank a good deal, and I am quite sure
that the oftener he drank the worse it was for me. One day he had
worked me hard in every way he could, and when I lay down I was
tired, and miserable, and angry; it all seemed so hard. The next
morning he came for me early, and ran me round again for a long
time. I had scarcely had an hour's rest, when he came again for me
with a saddle and bridle and a new kind of bit. I could never quite
tell how it came about; he had only just mounted me on the training
ground, when something I did put him out of temper, and he chucked
me hard with the rein. The new bit was very painful, and I reared
up suddenly, which angered him still more, and he began to flog me.
I felt my whole spirit set against him, and I began to kick, and
plunge, and rear as I had never done before, and we had a regular
fight; for a long time he stuck, to the saddle and punished me
cruelly with his whip and spurs, but my blood was thoroughly up,
and I cared for nothing he could do if only I could get him off. At
last, after a terrible struggle, I threw him off backwards. I heard
him fall heavily on the turf, and, without looking behind me, I
galloped off to the other end of the field; there I turned round
and saw my persecutor slowly rising from the ground and going into
the stable. I stood under an oak tree and watched, but no one came
to catch me. The time went on, and the sun was very hot; the flies
swarmed round me and settled on my bleeding flanks where the spurs
had dug in. I felt hungry, for I had not eaten since the early
morning, but there was not enough grass in that meadow for a goose
to live on. I wanted to lie down and rest, but with the saddle
strapped tightly on, there was no comfort, and there was not a drop
of water to drink. The afternoon wore on, and the sun got low. I
saw the other colts led in, and I knew they were having a good
feed.

"At last, just as the sun went down, I saw the old master come out
with a sieve in his hand. He was a very fine old gentleman with
quite white hair, but his voice was what I should know him by
amongst a thousand. It was not high, nor yet low, but full, and
clear, and kind, and when he gave orders it was so steady and
decided, that every one knew, both horses and men, that he expected
to be obeyed. He came quietly along, now and then shaking the oats
about that he had in the sieve, and speaking cheerfully and gently
to me: 'Come along, lassie, come along, lassie; come along, come
along.' I stood still and let him come up; he held the oats to me,
and I began to eat without fear; his voice took all my fear away.
He stood by, patting and stroking me whilst I was eating, and
seeing the clots of blood on my side he seemed very vexed. 'Poor
lassie! it was a bad business, a bad business!' Then he quietly
took the rein and led me to the stable; just at the door stood
Samson. I laid my ears back and snapped at him. 'Stand back,' said
the master, 'and keep out of her way; you've done a bad day's work
for this filly.' He growled out something about a vicious brute.
'Hark ye,' said the father, 'a bad-tempered man will never make a
good-tempered horse. You've not learned your trade yet, Samson.'
Then he led me into my box, took off the saddle and bridle with his
own hands, and tied me up; then he called for a pail of warm water
and a sponge, took off his coat, and while the stableman held the
pail, he sponged my sides a good while, so tenderly that I was sure
he knew how sore and bruised they were. 'Whoa! my pretty one,' he
said, 'stand still, stand still.' His very voice did me good, and
the bathing was very comfortable. The skin was so broken at the
corners of my mouth that I could not eat the hay; the stalks hurt
me. He looked closely at it, shook his head, and told the man to
fetch a good bran mash and put some meal into it. How good that
mash was! and so soft and healing to my mouth. He stood by all the
time I was eating, stroking me and talking to the man. 'If a
highmettled creature like this,' said he, 'can't be broken in by
fair means, she will never be good for anything.'

"After that he often came to see me, and when my mouth was healed,
the other breaker, Job, they called him, went on training me; he
was steady and thoughtful, and I soon learned what he wanted."



SOME TRUE STORIES OP HORSES AND DONKEYS

By W. H. G. Kingston

The horse becomes the willing servant of man, and when kindly
treated looks upon him as a friend and protector.

I have an interesting story to tell you of a mare which belonged to
Captain I--, an old settler in New Zealand. She and her foal had
been placed in a paddock, between which and her master's residence,
three or four miles away, several high fences intervened. The
paddock itself was surrounded by a still higher fence.

One day, however, as Captain I--was standing with a friend in front
of his house, he was surprised to see the mare come galloping up.
Supposing that the fence of her paddock had been broken down, and
that, pleased at finding herself at liberty, she had leaped the
others, he ordered a servant to take her back. The mare willingly
followed the man; but in a short time was seen galloping up towards
the house in as great a hurry as before. The servant, who arrived
some time afterwards, assured his master that he had put the mare
safely into the paddock. Captain I--told him again to take back the
animal, and to examine the fence more thoroughly, still believing
that it must have been broken down in some part or other, though
the gate might be secure.

Captain I--and his friend then retired into the house, and were
seated at dinner, when the sound of horse's hoofs reached their
ears. The friend, who had on this got up to look out of the window,
saw that it was the mare come back for the third time; and
observing the remarkable manner in which she was running up and
down, apparently trying even to get into the house, exclaimed,
"What can that mare want? I am sure that there is something the
matter." Captain I--on hearing this hurried out to ascertain the
state of the case. No sooner did the mare see him than she began to
frisk about and exhibit the most lively satisfaction; but instead
of stopping to receive the accustomed caress, off she set again of
her own accord towards the paddock, looking back to ascertain
whether her master was following. His friend now joined him, and
the mare, finding that they were keeping close behind her, trotted
on till the gate of the paddock was reached, where she waited for
them. On its being opened, she led them across the field to a deep
ditch on the farther side, when, what was their surprise to find
that her colt had fallen into it, and was struggling on its back
with its legs in the air, utterly unable to extricate itself. In a
few minutes more probably it would have been dead. The mare, it was
evident, finding that the servant did not comprehend her wishes,
had again and again sought her master, in whom she had learned from
past experience to confide. Here was an example of strong maternal
affection eliciting a faculty superior to instinct, which fully
merits the name of reason.

[Illustration: GINGER AND I WERE STANDING ALONE IN THE SHADE
_From the painting by Maude Scrivener_]

The memory of horses is remarkable. The newsman of a country paper
was in the habit of riding his horse once or twice a week to the
houses of fifty or sixty of his customers, the horse invariably
stopping of his own accord at each house as he reached it.

But the memory of the horse was exhibited in a still more curious
manner. It happened that there were two persons on the route who
took one paper between them, and each claimed the privilege of
having it first on each alternate week. The horse soon became
accustomed to this regulation, and though the parties lived two
miles distant, he stopped once a fortnight at the door of the
half-customer at one place, and once a fortnight at the door of the
half-customer at the other; and never did he forget this
arrangement, which lasted for several years.

I was once travelling in the interior of Portugal with several
companions. My horse had never been in that part of the country
before. We left our inn at daybreak, and proceeded through a
mountainous district to visit some beautiful scenery. On our return
evening was approaching, when I stopped behind my companions to
tighten the girths of my saddle. Believing that there was only one
path to take, I rode slowly on, but shortly reached a spot where I
was in some doubt whether I should go forward or turn off to the
left. I shouted, but heard no voice in reply, nor could I see any
trace of my friends. Darkness was coming rapidly on. My horse
seeming inclined to take the left hand, I thought it best to let
him do so. In a short time the sky became overcast, and there was
no moon. The darkness was excessive. Still my steed stepped boldly
on. So dense became the obscurity, that I could not see his ears;
nor could I, indeed, distinguish my own hand held out at
arms-length. I had no help for it but to place the reins on my
horse's neck and let him go forward.

We had heard of robberies and murders committed; and I knew that
there were steep precipices, down which, had my horse fallen, we
should have been dashed to pieces. Still the firm way in which he
trotted gave me confidence. Hour after hour passed by. The darkness
would, at all events, conceal me from the banditti, if such were in
wait--that was one consolation; but then I could not tell where my
horse might be taking me. It might be far away from where I hoped
to find my companions.

At length I heard a dog bark, and saw a light twinkling far down
beneath me, by which I knew that I was still on the mountain-side.
Thus on my steady steed proceeded, till I found that he was going
along a road, and I fancied I could distinguish the outlines of
trees on either hand. Suddenly he turned on one side, when my hat
was nearly knocked off by striking against the beam of a trellised
porch, covered with vines; and to my joy I found that he had
brought me up to the door of the inn which we had left in the
morning.

My companions, trusting to their human guide, had not arrived,
having taken a longer though safer route. My steed had followed the
direct path over the mountains which we had pursued in the morning.

Another horse of mine, which always appeared a gentle animal, and
which constantly carried a lady, was, during my absence, ridden by
a friend with spurs. On my return, I found that he had on several
occasions attacked his rider, when dismounted, with his fore-feet,
and had once carried off the rim of his hat. From that time forward
he would allow no one to approach him if he saw spurs on his heels;
and I was obliged to blindfold him when mounting and dismounting,
as he on several occasions attacked me as he had done my friend.

A horse was shut up in a paddock near Leeds, in a corner of which
stood a pump with a tub beneath it.

The groom, however, often forgot to fill the tub, the horse having
thus no water to drink. The animal had observed the way in which
water was procured, and one night, when the tub was empty, was seen
to take the pump handle in his mouth, and work it with his head
till he had procured as much water as he required.

A remarkable instance of a horse saving human life occurred some
years ago at the Cape of Good Hope. A storm was raging when a
vessel, dragging her anchors, was driven on the rocks and speedily
dashed to pieces. Many of those on board perished. The remainder
were seen clinging to the wreck, or holding on to the fragments
which were washing to and fro amid the breakers. No boat could put
off. When all hope had gone of saving the unfortunate people, a
settler, somewhat advanced in life, appeared on horseback on the
shore. His horse was a bold and strong animal, and noted for
excelling as a swimmer. The farmer, moved with compassion for the
unfortunate seamen, resolved to attempt saving them. Fixing himself
firmly in the saddle, he pushed into the midst of the breakers. At
first both horse and rider disappeared; but soon they were seen
buffeting the waves, and swimming towards the wreck. Calling two of
the seamen, he told them to hold on by his boots; then turning his
horse's head, he brought them safely to land.

No less than seven times did he repeat this dangerous exploit, thus
saving fourteen lives. For the eighth time he plunged in, when,
encountering a formidable wave, the brave man lost his balance, and
was instantly overwhelmed. The horse swam safely to shore; but his
gallant rider, alas! was no more.

Some horses in the county of Limerick, which were pastured in a
field, broke bounds like a band of unruly schoolboys, and
scrambling through a gap which they had made in a fence, found
themselves in a narrow lane. Along the quiet by-road they galloped
helter-skelter, at full speed, snorting and tossing their manes in
the full enjoyment of their freedom, but greatly to the terror of a
party of children who were playing in the lane. As the horses were
seen tearing wildly along, the children scrambled up the bank into
the hedge, and buried themselves in the bushes, regardless of
thorns,--with the exception of one poor little thing, who, too
small to run, fell down on its face, and lay crying loudly in the
middle of the narrow way.

On swept the horses; but when the leader of the troop saw the
little child lying in his path, he suddenly stopped, and so did the
others behind him. Then stooping his head, he seized the infant's
clothes with his teeth, and carefully lifted it to the side of the
road, laying it gently and quite unhurt on the tender grass.

He and his companions then resumed their gallop in the lane,
unconscious of having performed a remarkable act.

We have no less an authority than Dr. Franklin to prove that
donkeys enjoy music.

The mistress of a chateau in France where he visited had an
excellent voice, and every time she began to sing, a donkey
belonging to the establishment invariably came near the window, and
listened with the greatest attention. One day, during the
performance of a piece of music which apparently pleased it more
than any it had previously heard, the animal, quitting its usual
post outside the window, unceremoniously entered the room, and, to
exhibit its satisfaction, began to bray with all its might.

Donkeys sometimes exert their ingenuity to their own advantage. A
certain ass had his quarters in a shed, in front of which was a
small yard. On one side of the yard was a kitchen garden, separated
from it by a wall, in which was a door fastened by two bolts and a
latch. The owner of the premises one morning, in taking a turn
round his garden, observed the footprints of an ass on the walks
and beds. "Surely some one must have left the door open at night,"
thought the master. He accordingly took care to see that it was
closed.

Again, however, he found that the ass had visited the garden.

The next night, curious to know how this had happened, he watched
from a window overlooking the yard. At first he kept a light
burning near him. The ass, however, remained quietly at his stall.
After a time, to enable him to see the better, he had it removed,
when what was his surprise to see the supposed stupid donkey come
out of the shed, go to the door, and, rearing himself on his
hind-legs, unfasten the upper bolt of the door with his nose. This
done, he next withdrew the lower bolt; then lifted the latch, and
walked into the garden. He was not long engaged in his foraging
expedition, and soon returned with a bunch of carrots in his mouth.
Placing them in his shed, he went back and carefully closed the
door and began at his ease to munch the provender he had so
adroitly got possession of.

The owner, suspecting that people would not believe his story,
invited several of his neighbours to witness the performance of the
ass. Not till the light, however, had been taken away, would the
creature commence his operations, evidently conscious that he was
doing wrong.

A lock was afterwards put on the door, which completely baffled the
ingenuity of the cunning animal.



"OLD MUSTARD": A TALE OF THE WESTERN PIONEERS

By E. W. Frentz

When Grandmother Lane was a little girl her father came in one day
and said, "Wife, it is all settled at last. I have sold the farm.
Next week we will start West. There is a large company going from
here, and we must try to get ready to go with them."

Little Mary, as grandmother was then called, heard the news with
great delight, because she knew it would mean a long, long journey,
lasting months, and carrying them into a new country, where there
was never any cold weather and where great crops could be raised
without much hard work, and there would always be plenty to eat.
Besides, her family was not going alone, but many other families
whom they knew were going at the same time, so that she would have
some of her playmates with her all the way.

It was a wonderful sight when the great day came at last, and the
long wagon-train set out. In all there were more than forty wagons,
some drawn by four or six horses, and some by as many as eight big
oxen. And such strange wagons! They were more like little houses on
wheels, only instead of a roof there was a high frame overhead made
of hoops, and covered with canvas, so it made a sort of tent to
ride in by day, if you wished, and to sleep in at night. And from
these hoops hung all sorts of things--hams and pieces of bacon,
strips of dried pumpkin, pans to cook in, and clothes. Underneath
the big wagon, outside, swung the great kettles, in which the
larger things were cooked, and axes, and ropes and chains for
pulling the wagons out when they got stuck in the mud.

To little Mary it was all new and delightful. The big wagons
squeaked and groaned and swayed from side to side till the hams
hanging from the frame overhead would swing back and forth like the
pendulum of a clock. There were the shouts of the men to the horses
and oxen, the barking of the dogs that ran along the side of the
trail, the sharp cracking of the drivers' whips, and the
_ting-tang_ of the iron kettles swinging against each other.
And always they were passing through places that were new and
seeing things that were fresh and strange.

The wagon of Mr. Harding--that was grandmother's father--was drawn
by four oxen, but of them, known as Jerry, began to show signs of
sickness when they had been on the road a few days. The men gave
him medicine and doctored him all they could, but he seemed to grow
weaker all the time instead of better, and one morning, when they
went to yoke the oxen to the wagon, they found him dead.

For a day or two they went on with only three oxen. Then Mr.
Harding met a trader who was willing to sell him a pet ox that he
called "Old Mustard," to take the place of Jerry.