George Herbert Palmer - "The Nature of Goodness"

Walter Lippmann - "Public Opinion"

P. G. Wodehouse - "A Man of Means"

Jacob Abbott - "History of King Charles II of England"

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 Lights and Shadows of Real Life

T >> T.S. Arthur >> The Lights and Shadows of Real Life




"I don't see any use in raking up these old things."

"The use is, to enable you to see your folly so clearly as to cause
you to abandon it. I am sure you not only see it now, but feel it
strongly."

"Well, suppose I do?--what then?"

"Why, sign the pledge, and become a sober man."

"I've made up my mind never to sign a pledge," was the emphatic
answer.

"Why?"

"Because, I am determined to live and die a free man. I'll never
sign away my liberty. My father was a free man before me, and I will
live and die a free man!"

"But you're a slave now."

"It is not true! I am free.--Free to drink, or free to et it alone,
as I choose."

"You are mistaken, Jim. You have sold yourself into slavery, and the
marks of the chains that still bind you, are upon your body. You are
the slave of a vile passion that is too strong for your reason."

"I deny it. I can quit drinking if I choose."

"Then why don't you quit?"

"Because I love to drink."

"And love to see your wife's cheek growing paler and paler every
day--and your children ragged and neglected?"

"Malcom!"

"I only asked the question, Jim."

"But you know that I don't love to see them in the condition they
are."

"And still, you say that you can quit drinking whenever you choose,
but will not do so, because you love the taste, or the effect of the
liquor, I don't know which?"

Braddock's feelings were a good deal touched, as they had been, ever
since Malcom's temperance speech in the grog-shop. He stood silent
for some time, and then said--

"I know it's too bad for me to drink as I do, but I will break off."

"You had better sign the pledge then."

"No, I will not do that. As I have told you, I am resolved never to
sign away my liberty."

"Very well. If you are fixed in your resolution, I suppose it is
useless for me to urge the matter. For the sake, then, of your wife
and children, break away from the fetters that bind you, and be
really free. Now you are not only a slave, but a slave in the most
debasing bondage."

The two then separated, and Jim Braddock--in former years it was Mr.
Braddock--returned to his house; a very cheerless place, to what it
had once been. Notwithstanding his abandonment of himself to drink
and idleness, Braddock had no ill-nature about him. Though he
neglected his family, he was not quarrelsome at home. she might, and
talked hard to him, he never retorted, but always turned the matter
off with a laugh or a jest. With his children, he was always
cheerful, and frequently joined in their sports, when not too drunk
to do so. All this cool indifference, as it seemed to her,
frequently irritated his wife, and made her scold away at him with
might and main. He had but one reply to make whenever this occurred,
and that was--

"There--there--Keep cool, Sally! It will all go in your lifetime,
darling!"

As he came into the house after the not very pleasant occurrence
that had taken place at Harry Arnold's, he saw by Sally's excited
face and sparkling eyes that something was wrong.

"What's the matter, Sally?" he asked.

"Don't ask me what's the matter, if you please!" was her tart reply.

"Yes, but I want to know? Something is wrong."

"Something is always wrong, of course," Sally rejoined--"and
something always will be wrong while you act as you do: It's a
burning shame for any man to abuse his family as you are abusing
yours. Jim--"

"There--there. Keep cool, Sally! It will all go in your lifetime,
darling!" Jim responded, in a mild, soothing tone.

"O yes:--It's very easy to say 'keep cool!' But I'm tired of this
everlasting 'keep cool!' Quit drinking and go to work, and then
it'll be time to talk about keeping cool. Here I've been all the
morning scraping up chips to make the fire burn. Not a stick in the
wood-pile, and you lazing it down to Harry Arnold's. I wish to
goodness he was hung! It's too bad! I'm out of all manner of
patience!"

"There--there. Keep cool, Sally! It'll all go--"

"Hush, will you!" ejaculated Sally, stamping her foot, all patience
having left her over-tried spirit. "Keep away from Harry Arnold's!
Quit drinking, and then it'll be time for you to talk to me about
keeping cool!"

"I'm going to quit, Sally," Jim replied, altogether unexcited by her
words and manner.

"Nonsense!" rejoined Sally. "You've said that fifty times."

"But I'm going to do it now."

"Have you signed the pledge?"

"No. I'm not going to sign away my liberty, as I have often said.
But I'm going to quit."

"Fiddle-de-de! Sign away your liberty! You've got no liberty to sign
away! A slave, and talk of liberty!"

"Look here, Sally," her husband said, good-humouredly, for nothing
that she could say ever made him get angry with her--"you're a
hard-mouthed animal, and it would take a strong hand to hold you in.
But as I like to see you go at full gallop, darling, I never draw a
tight rein. Aint you most out of breath yet?"

"You're a fool, Jim!"

"There's many a true word spoken in jest, Sally," her husband
responded in a more serious tone; "I have been a most egregious
fool--but I'm going to try and act the wise man, if I havn't
forgotten how. So now, as little Vic. said to her mother--

'Pray, Goody, cease and moderate
The rancour of your tongue.'"

Suddenly his wife felt that he was really in earnest, and all her
angry feelings subsided--

"O James!" she said--"if you would only be as you once were, how
happy we might all again be!"

"I know that, Sally. And I'm going to try hard to be as I once was.
There's a little job to be done over at Jones', and I promised him
that I would do it for him today. but I got down to Harry Arnold's,
and there wasted my time until I was ashamed to begin a day's work.
But to-morrow morning I'll go over, and stick at it until it's done.
It'll be cash down, and you shall have every cent it comes to, my
old girl!" patting his wife on the cheek as he said so.

Mrs. Braddock, of course, felt a rekindling of hope in her bosom.
Many times before had her husband promised amendment, and as often
had he disappointed her fond expectations. But still she suffered
her heart to hope again.

On the next morning, James Braddock found an early breakfast ready
for him when he got up. His hand trembled a good deal as he lifted
his cup of coffee to his lips, which was insipid without the usual
morning-dram to put a taste in his mouth. He did not say much, for
he felt an almost intolerable craving for liquor, and this made him
serious. But his resolution was strong to abandon his former habits.

"You won't forget, James?" his wife said, laying her hand upon his
arm, and looking him earnestly and with moistened eyes in the face,
as he was about leaving the house.

"No, Sally, I won't forget. Take heart, my good girl. Let what's
past go for nothing. It's all in our lifetime."

And so saying, Braddock turned away, and strode off with a resolute
bearing. His wife followed with her eyes the form of her husband
until it was out of sight, and then closed the door with a
long-drawn sigh.

The way to Mr. Jones' house was past Arnold's grogshop, and as
Braddock drew nearer and nearer to his accustomed haunt, he felt a
desire, growing stronger and stronger every moment, to enter and
join his old associates over a glass of liquor. To this desire, he
opposed every rational objection that he could find. He brought up
before his mind his suffering wife and neglected children, and
thought of his duty to them. He remembered that it was drink, and
drink alone, that had been the cause of his downfall. But with all
these auxiliaries to aid him in keeping his resolution, it seemed
weak when opposed to desires, which long continued indulgence had
rendered inordinate. Onward he went with a steady pace, fortifying
his mind all the while with arguments against drinking, and yet just
ready at every moment to yield the contest he was waging against
habit and desire. At last the grog-shop was in sight, and in a few
minutes he was almost at the door.

"Hurrah! Here's Jim Braddock, bright and early!" cried one of his
old cronies, from among two or three who were standing in front of
the shop.

"So the cold-water-men havn't got you yet!" broke in another. "I
thought Jim Braddock was made of better stuff."

"Old birds aint caught with chaff!" added a third.

"Come! Hallo! Where are you off to in such a hurry, with your tools
on your back?" quickly cried the first speaker, seeing that Braddock
was going by without showing any disposition to stop.

"I've got a job to do that's in a hurry," replied Braddock,
pausing--"and have no time to stop. And besides, I've sworn off."

"Sworn off! Ha! ha! Have you taken the pledge?"

"No, I have not. I'm not going to bind myself down not to drink any
thing. I'll be a free man. But I won't touch another drop, see if I
do."

"O yes--we'll see. How long do you expect to keep sober?"

"Always."

"You'll be drunk by night."

"Why do you say so?"

"I say so--that's all; and I know so."

"But why do you say so? Come, tell me that."

"O, I've seen too many swear off in my time--and I've tried it too
often myself. It's no use. Not over one in a hundred ever sticks to
it; and I'm sure, Jim Braddock's not that exception."

"There are said to be a hundred reformed men in this town now. I am
sure, I know a dozen," Braddock replied.

"O yes. But they've signed the pledge."

"Nonsense! I don't believe a man can keep sober any the better by
signing the pledge, than by resolving never again to drink a drop."

"Facts are stubborn things, you know. But come, Jim, as you havn't
signed the pledge, you might as well come in and take a glass now,
for you'll do it before night, take my word for it."

It was a fact, that Braddock began really to debate the question
with himself, whether he should or not go in and take a single
glass, when he became suddenly conscious of his danger, turned away,
and hurried on, followed by the loud, jeering laugh of his old boon
companions.

"Up-hill work," he muttered to himself, as he strode onward.

An hour's brisk walking brought him to the residence of Mr. Jones,
nearly four miles away from the little town in which he lived, where
he entered upon his day's work, resolved that, henceforth, he would
be a reformed man. At first he was nervous, from want of his
accustomed stimulus, and handled his tools awkwardly. But after
awhile, as the blood began to circulate more freely, the tone of his
system came up to a healthier action.

About eleven o'clock Mr. Jones came out to the building upon which
Braddock was at work, and after chatting a little, said--

"This is grog time, aint it, Jim?"

"Yes sir, I believe it is," was the reply.

"Well, knock off then for a little while, and come into the house
and take a dram."

Now Mr. Jones was a very moderate drinker himself, scarcely touching
liquor for weeks at a time, unless in company. But he always kept it
in the house, and always gave it to his workmen, as a matter of
course, at eleven o'clock. Had he been aware of Braddock's effort to
reform himself, he would as soon have thought of offering him poison
to drink as whiskey. But, knowing his habits, he concluded,
naturally, that the grog was indispensable, and tendered it to him
as he had always done before, on like occasions.

"I've signed the pledge," were the words that instantly formed
themselves in the mind of Braddock--but were instantly set aside, as
that reason for not drinking would not have been the true one. Could
he have said that, all difficulty would have vanished in a moment.

"No objection, Mr. Jones," was then uttered, and off he started for
the house, resolutely keeping down every reason that struggled in
his mind to rise and be heard.

The image of Mr. Jones, standing before him, with a smiling
invitation to come and take a glass, backed by his own instantly
aroused inclinations, had been too strong an inducement. He felt,
too, that it would have been rudeness to decline the proffered
hospitality.

"That's not bad to take, Mr. Jones," he said, smacking his lips,
after turning off a stiff glass.

"No, it is not, Jim. That's as fine an article of whiskey as I've
ever seen," Mr. Jones replied, a little flattered at Braddock's
approval of his liquor. "You're a good judge of such matters."

"I ought to be." And as Jim said this, he turned out another glass.

"That's right--help yourself," was Mr. Jones' encouraging remark, as
he saw this.

"I never was backward at that, you know, Mr. Jones." After eating a
cracker and a piece of cheese, and taking a third drink, Braddock
went back and resumed his work, feeling quite happy.

After dinner Mr. Jones handed him the bottle again, and did the same
when he knocked off in the evening. Of course, he was very far from
being sober when he started for home. As he came into town, his way
was past Harry Arnold's, whose shop he entered, and was received
with a round of applause by his old associates, who saw at a glance
that Jim was "a little disguised." Their jokes were all received in
good part, and parried by treating all around.

When her husband left in the morning, Mrs. Braddock's heart was
lightened with a new hope, although a fear was blended with that
hope, causing them both to tremble in alternate preponderance in her
bosom. Still, hope would gain the ascendency, and affected her
spirits with a degree of cheerfulness unfelt for many months. As the
day began to decline towards evening, after putting everything about
the house in order, she took her three children, washed them clean,
and dressed them up as neatly as their worn and faded clothes would
permit. This was in order to make home present the most agreeable
appearance possible to her husband when he returned. Then she killed
a chicken and dressed it, ready to broil for his supper--made up a
nice short-cake, and set the table with a clean, white table-cloth.
About sundown, she commenced baking the cake, and cooking the
chicken, and at dusk had them all ready to put on the table the
moment he came in.

Your father is late," she remarked to one of the children, after
sitting in a musing attitude for about five minutes, after
everything was done that she could do towards getting supper ready.
As she said this, she got up and went to the door and looked long
and intently down the street in the direction that she expected him,
calling each distant, dim figure, obscured by the deepening
twilight, his, until a nearer approach dispelled the illusion. Each
disappointment like this, caused her feelings to grow sadder and
sadder, until at length, as evening subsided into night, with its
veil of thick darkness, she turned into the house with a heavy
oppressive sigh, and rejoined the children who were impatient for
their supper.

"Wait a little while," was her reply to their importunities. "Father
will soon be here now."

She was still anxious that their father should see their improved
appearance.

"O no"--urged one. "We want our supper now."

"O yes. Give us our supper now. I'm so sleepy and hungry," whined
another.

And to give force to these, the youngest began to fret and cry. Mrs.
Braddock could delay no longer, and so she set them up to the table
and gave them as much as they could eat. Then she undressed each in
turn, and in a little while, they were fast asleep.

When all was quiet, and the mother sat down to wait for her
husband's return, a feeling of deep despondency came over her mind.
It had been dark for an hour, and yet he had not come home. She
could imagine no reason for this, other than the one that had kept
him out so often before--drinking and company. Thus she continued to
sit, hour after hour, the supper untasted. Usually, her evenings
were spent in some kind of work--in mending her children's clothes,
or knitting them stockings. But now she had no heart to do anything.
The state of gloomy uncertainty that she was in, broke down her
spirits, for the time being.

Bedtime came; and still Braddock was away. She waited an hour later
than usual, and then retired, sinking back upon her pillow as she
did so, in a state of hopeless exhaustion of mind and body.

In the meantime, her husband had spent a merry evening at Harry
Arnold's, drinking with more than his accustomed freedom. He was the
last to go home, the thought of meeting his deceived and injured
wife, causing him to linger. When he did leave, it was past eleven
o'clock. Though more than half-intoxicated on going from the
grog-shop, the cool night air, and the thought of Sally, sobered him
considerably before he got home. Arrived there, he paused with his
hand on the door for some time, reluctant to enter. At last he
opened the door, and went quietly in, in the hope of getting up to
bed without his wife's discovering his condition. The third step
into the room brought his foot in contact with a chair, and over he
went, jarring the whole house with his fall. His wife heard
this--indeed her quick ear had detected the opening of the door--and
it caused her heart to sink like a heavy weight in her bosom.

Gathering himself up, Braddock moved forward again as steadily as he
could, both hands extended before him. A smart blow upon the nose
from an open door, that had insinuated itself between his hands,
brought him up again, and caused him, involuntarily, to dash aside
the door which shut with a heavy slam. Pausing now, to recall his
bewildered senses, he resolved to move forward with more caution,
and so succeeded in gaining the stairs, up which he went, his feet,
softly as he tried to put them down, falling like heavy lumps of
lead, and making the house echo again. He felt strongly inclined to
grumble about all the lights being put out, as he came into the
chamber--but a distinct consciousness that he had no right to
grumble, kept him quiet, and so he undressed himself with as little
noise as possible,--which was no very small portion, for at almost
every moment he stept on something, or ran against something that
seemed endowed for the time with sonorous power of double the
ordinary capacity,--and crept softly into bed.

Mrs. Braddock said nothing, and he said nothing. But long before her
eyelids closed in sleep, he was loudly snoring by her side. When he
awoke in the morning, Sally had arisen and gone down. A burning
thirst caused him to get up immediately and dress himself. There was
no water in the room, and if there had been, he could not have
touched it while there was to be had below a cool draught from the
well. So he descended at once, feeling very badly, and resolving
over again that he would never touch another drop of liquor as long
as he lived. Having quenched his thirst with a large bowl of cool
water drawn right from the bottom of the well, he went up to his
wife where she was stooping at the fire, and said--

"Sally, look here--"

"Go 'way, Jim," was her angry response.

"No, but Sally, look here, I want to talk to you," persisted her
husband.

"Go 'way, I say--I don't care if I never see you again!"

"So you've said a hundred times, but I never believed you, or I
might have taken you at your word."

To this his wife made no reply.

"I was drunk last night, Sally," Jim said, after a moment's silence.

"You needn't take the trouble to tell me that."

"Of course not. But an open confession, you know, is good for the
soul. I was drunk last night, then--drunk as a fool, after all I
promised--but I'm not going to get drunk again, so--"

"Don't swear any more false oaths, Jim: you've sworn enough
already."

"Yes, but Sally, I am going to quit now, and I want you to talk to
me like a good wife, and advise with me."

"If you don't go away and let me alone now, I'll throw these tongs
at you!" the wife rejoined, angrily, rising up and brandishing the
article she had named. "You are trying me beyond all manner of
patience!"

"There--there--keep cool, Sally. It'll all go into your lifetime,
darlin'," Jim replied, good-humouredly, taking hold of her hand, and
extricating the tongs from them, and then drawing his arm around her
waist, and forcing her to sit down in a chair, while he took one
just beside her.

"Now, Sally, I'm in dead earnest, if ever I was in my life," he
began, "and if you'll tell me any way to break off from this
wretched habit into which I have fallen, I'll do it."

"Go and sign the pledge, then;" his wife said promptly, and somewhat
sternly.

"And give up my liberty?"

"And regain it, rather. You're a slave now."

"I'll do it, then, for your sake."

"Don't trifle with me, any more, James; I can't bear it much longer,
I feel that I can't--" poor Mrs. Braddock said in a plaintive tone,
while the tears came to her eyes.

"I wont deceive you any more, Sally. I'll sign, and I'll keep my
pledge. If I could only have said--'I've signed the pledge,'
yesterday, I would have been safe. But I've got no pledge, and I'm
afraid to go out to hunt up Malcom, for fear I shall see a
grog-shop."

"Can't you write a pledge?"

"No. I can't write anything but a bill, or a label for one of your
pickle-pots."

"But try."

"Well, give me a pen, some ink, and a piece of paper."

But there was neither pen, ink, nor paper, in the house. Mrs.
Braddock, however, soon mustered them all in the neighbourhood, and
came and put them down upon the table before her husband.

"There, now, write a pledge," she said.

"I will." And Jim took up the pen and wrote--"Blister my feathers
if ever I drink another drop of Alcohol, or anything that will make
drunk come, sick or well, dead or alive!"

JIM BRADDOCK."

"But that's a queer pledge, Jim."

"I don't care if it is. I'll keep it."

"It's just no pledge at all."

"You're an old goose! Now give me a hammer and four nails."

"What do you want with a hammer and four nails?"

"I want to nail my pledge up over the mantelpiece."

"But it will get smoky."

"So will your aunty. Give me the hammer and nails."

Jim's wife brought them as desired, and he nailed his pledge up over
the mantelpiece, and then read it off with a proud, resolute air.

"I can keep that pledge, Sally, my old girl! And what's more, I will
keep it, too!" he said, slapping his wife upon the shoulder. "And
now for some breakfast in double quick time, for I must be at
Jones's early this morning."

Mrs. Braddock's heart was very glad, for she had more faith in this
pledge than she had ever felt in any of his promises. There was
something of confirmation in the act of signing his name, that
strengthened her hopes. It was not long before she had a good warm
breakfast on the table, of which her husband eat with a better
appetite than usual, and then, after reading his pledge over, Jim
started off.

As before, he had to go past Harry Arnold's, and early as it was,
there were already two or three of his cronies there for their
morning dram. He saw them about the door while yet at a distance,
but neither the grog-shop nor his old companions had now any
attraction for him. He was conscious of standing on a plain that
lifted him above their influence. As he drew near, they observed
him, and awaited his approach with pleasure, for his fine flow of
spirits made his company always desirable. But as he showed no
inclination to stop, he was hailed, just as he was passing, with,

"Hallo, Jim! Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"Off to my work like an honest, sober man," Jim replied, pausing to
return his answer. "I've taken the pledge, my hearties, and what's
more, I'm going to keep it. It's all down in black and white, and my
name's to it in the bargain,--so there's an end of the matter, you
see! Good bye, boys!--I'm sorry to leave you,--but you must go my
way if you want my company. Good bye, Harry! You've got the old
whiskey-barrel, and that's the last you'll ever get of mine. I never
had any good luck while it was in my house, and I am most heartily
glad it's out, and in your whiskey-shop, where I hope it will stay.
Good bye, old cronies!"

And so saying, Jim turned away, and walked off with a proud, erect
bearing. His old companions raised a feeble shout, but according to
Jim's account, the laugh was so much on the wrong side of their
mouths, that it didn't seem to him anything like a laugh.

At eleven o'clock, Mr. Jones came out as usual, and said--

"Well, Jim, I suppose you begin to feel a little like it was
grog-time?"'

"No, sir," Jim replied. "I'm done with grog."

"Done with grog!" ejaculated Mr. Jones, in pleased surprise.

"Why, you didn't seem at all afraid of it, yesterday?"

"I did drink pretty hard, yesterday; but that was all your fault."

"My fault! How do you make that out?"

"Clear enough. Yesterday morning, seeing what a poor miserable
wretch I had got to be, and how much my wife and children were
suffering, I swore of from ever touching another drop. I wouldn't
sign a pledge, though, because that, I thought, would be giving up
my freedom. In coming here, I got past Harry Arnold's grog-shop
pretty well, but when you came out so pleasantly at eleven o'clock,
and asked me to go over to the house and take a drink, I couldn't
refuse for the life of me--especially as I felt as dry as a bone. So
I drank pretty freely, as you' know, and went home, in consequence,
drunk at night, notwithstanding I had promised Sally, solemnly, in
the morning, never to touch another drop again as long as I lived.
Poor soul! Bad enough, and discouraged enough, she felt last night,
I know.