Algernon Charles Swinburne - "Locrine A Tragedy"

Goldwin Smith - "Lectures and Essays"

Frank Channing Haddock - "Mastery of Self"

Harold Brighouse - "Hobson's Choice"

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




"Stop, stop, Edith! You musn't go for water in this storm. Here,
take the baby."

"I can go well enough," replied Mrs. Carroll, and before her husband
could prevent her, she was out in the blustering air, with the
snowflakes driving in her face.

"Oh, Edith! Edith! Why will you do so?" said her husband, as soon as
she came back.

"It's as easy for me to go as for you," she replied.

"No it isn't, Edith. I am strong to what you are. If you expose
yourself in this way, it will be the death of you."

Mrs. Carroll shook the snow from her shawl and dress, and brushed it
from her shoes, saying as she did so--

"Oh no! a little matter like this won't hurt me."

She then filled the tea-kettle and placed it over the fire. After
which she set out the table, and busied herself in getting ready
their evening meal. Meanwhile, Mr. Carroll walked the floor with
Aggy in his arms, both looking and feeling serious; while the two
older children amused themselves with a picture book.

As the reader has probably anticipated, the "living" (?) at
Y--proved altogether inadequate to the wants of Mr. Carroll's
family; and faith, confidence, and an abstract trust in Providence
by no means sufficed for its increase.

At first, Mrs. Carroll had a servant girl to help her in her
household duties, as usual. But she soon found that this would not
do. A dollar and a quarter a week, and the cost of boarding the
girl, took just about one-third of their entire income. So, after
the first three months, "help" was dispensed with. The washing had
to be put out; which cost half a dollar, weekly. To get some one in
the house to iron, would cost as much more. So Mrs. Carroll took
upon herself the task of ironing all the clothes, in addition to the
entire work of the house and care of her three children.

For three months this hard labor was performed; but not without a
visible effect. The face of Mrs. Carroll grew thinner; her step lost
its lightness; and her voice its cheerful tone. All this her husband
saw, and saw with intense pain. But, there was no remedy. His income
was but three hundred dollars a year; and out of that small sum it
was impossible to pay one hundred for the wages and board of a girl,
and have enough left for the plainest food and clothing. There was,
therefore, no alternative. All that it was in his power to do, was
done by Mr. Carroll to lighten the heavy burdens under which his
wife was sinking; but it was only a little, in reality, that he
could do; and he was doomed to see her daily wasting away, and her
strength departing from her.

At the time we have introduced them, Mrs. Carroll had begun to show
some symptoms of failing health, that alarmed her husband seriously.
She had taken cold, which was followed by a dry, fatiguing cough,
and a more than usual prostration of strength. On coming in with her
bucket of water from the well, as just mentioned, she did not take
off her shoes, and brush away the snow that had been pressed in
around the tops against her stockings, but suffered it to lie there
and melt, thus wetting her feet. It was nearly an hour from the time
Mr. Carroll came down from his room, before supper was ready. Aggy
was, by this time, asleep; so that the mother could pour out the tea
without having, as was usually the case, to hold the baby in her
arms.

"Ain't you going to eat anything?" asked Mr. Carroll, seeing that
his wife, whose face looked flushed, only sipped a little tea.

"I don't feel any appetite," replied Mrs. Carroll.

"But you'd better try to eat something, dear."

Just then there was a knock at the door. On opening it, Mr. Carroll
found a messenger with a request for him to go and see a parishioner
who was ill.

"You can't go away there in this storm," said his wife, as soon as
the messenger had retired.

"It's full a mile off."

"I must go, Edith," replied the minister. "If the distance were many
miles instead of one, it would be all the same. Duty calls."

And out into the driving storm the minister went, and toiled on his
lonely way through the deep snow to reach the bedside of a suffering
fellow man, who sought spiritual consolation in the hour of
sickness, from one whose temporal wants he had, while in health,
shown but little inclination to supply. That consolation offered, he
turned his face homeward again, and again breasted the unabated
storm. He found his wife in bed--something unusual for her at ten
o'clock--and, on laying his hand upon her face, discovered that she
was in a high fever. In alarm, he went for the doctor, who declined
going out, but sent medicine, and promised to come over in the
morning.

In the morning Mrs. Carroll was much worse, and unable to rise. To
dress the children and get breakfast, Mr. Carroll found to be tasks
of no very easy performance for him; and as soon as they were
completed, he called in a neighbor to stay with his wife while he
went in search of some one to come and take her place in the family
until she was able to go about again as usual.

That time, however, did not soon come. Weeks passed before she could
even sit up, and then she was so susceptible of cold, that even the
slightest draft of air into the room affected her; and so weak,
that, in attempting to mend a garment for one of her children, the
exertion caused her to faint away.

When Mrs. Carroll was taken sick, they had only fifteen dollars of
their quarter's salary left. It was but two weeks since they had
received it, yet nearly all was gone, for twenty-five dollars,
borrowed to meet expenses during the last month of the quarter, had
to be paid according to promise: shoes for nearly every member of
the family had to be purchased, besides warmer clothing for
themselves and children; and several little bills unavoidably
contracted, had to be settled. The extra expense of sickness, added
to the regular demand, soon melted away the trifling balance, and
Mr. Carroll found himself, with his wife still unable to leave her
room--in fact, scarcely able to sit up--penniless and almost
hopeless.--His faith had grown weak--his confidence was gone--his
spirits were broken. Daily he prayed for strength to bear up; for a
higher trust in Providence; for light upon his dark pathway.--But no
strength came, no confidence was created, no light shone upon his
way. And for this we need not wonder. It was no day of miracles, as
his wife had forewarned him. He had, as too many do, hoped for
sustenance in a field of labor where reason could find no
well-grounded hope. He knew that he could not live on three hundred
a year; yet he had accepted the offer, in the vain hope that all
would come out well!

The last shilling left the hand of the unhappy minister, and at
least six weeks remained before another quarter's salary became due.
He could not let his family starve; so, after much thought, he
finally determined to call the vestry together, frankly state his
case, and tell his brethren that it was impossible for him to live
on the small sum they allowed.

A graver meeting of the vestry of Y--parish had not for a long
time taken place. As for an increase of salary, that was declared to
be out of the question entirely. They had never paid any one over
three hundred dollars, which, with the parsonage, had always been
considered a very liberal compensation. They were very sorry for Mr.
Carroll, and would advance him a quarter's salary. But all increase
was out of the question. They knew the people would not hear to it.
The meeting then broke up, and the official members of the church
walked gravely away, while Mr. Carroll went home, feeling so sad and
dispirited, that he almost wished that he could die.

The Parish of Y--was not rich; though six hundred dollars could
have been paid to a minister with as little inconvenience to the
members as three hundred. But the latter sum was considered ample;
and much surprise was manifested when it was found that the new
minister asked for an increase, even before the first year of his
engagement had expired.

The face of his wife had never looked so pale, her cheeks so thin,
nor her eyes so sunken, to the minister, as when he came home from
this mortifying and disheartening meeting of the vestry. One of
those present was the very person he had gone a mile to visit on the
night of the snow-storm; and he had more to say that hurt him than
any of the rest.

"Edith," said Mr. Carroll, taking the thin hand of his wife, as he
sat down by her and looked sadly into her face, "we must leave
here."

"Must we? Why?" she asked, without evincing very marked surprise.

"We cannot live on three hundred a year."

"Where will we go?"

"Heaven only knows! But we cannot remain here!"

And as the minister said this, he bowed his head until his face
rested upon the arm of his wife. He tried to hide his emotion, but
Edith knew that tears were upon the cheeks of her husband.






THE SEQUEL.





JUST one year has elapsed, since Mr. Carroll accepted the call from
Y--. It has been a year of trouble, ending in deep affliction.
When the health of Mrs. Carroll yielded under her too heavy burdens,
it did not come back again. Steadily she continued to sink, after
the first brief rallying of her system, until it became hopelessly
apparent that the time of her departure was near at hand. She was
too fragile a creature to be thrown into the position she occupied.
Inheriting a delicate constitution, and raised with even an unwise
tenderness, she was no more fitted to be a pastor's wife, with only
three hundred a year to live upon, than a summer flower is to take
the place of a hardy autumn plant. This her husband should have
known and taken into the account, before he decided to accept the
call from Y--.

When it was found that Mrs. Carroll, after partially recovering from
her first severe attack, began, gradually to sink; a strong interest
in her favor was awakened among the ladies of the congregation, and
they showed her many kind attentions. But all these attentions, and
all this kindness, did not touch the radical disability under which
she was suffering. They did not remove her too heavy weight of care
and labor. All the help in her family that she felt justified in
employing, was a girl between fourteen and fifteen years of age, and
this left so much for her to do in the care of her children, and in
necessary household duties that she suffered all the time from
extreme physical exhaustion.

In the just conviction of the error he had committed, and while he
felt the hopelessness of his condition, Mr. Carroll, as has been
seen, resolved to leave Y--immediately. This design he hinted to
one of the members of his church.

"You engaged with us for a year, did you not?" enquired the member.

That settled the question in the mind of the unhappy minister. He
said no more to any one on the subject of his income, or about
leaving the parish. But his mind was made up not to remain a single
day, after his contract had expired. If in debt at the time, as he
knew he must be, he would free himself from the incumbrances by
selling a part of his household furniture. Meantime his liveliest
fears were aroused for his wife, as symptom after symptom of a rapid
decline, showed themselves. That he did not preach as good sermons,
nor visit as freely among his parishioners during the last three
months of the time he remained at Y--, is no matter of surprise.
Some, more considerate than the rest, excused him; but others
complained, even to the minister himself. No matter. Mr. Carroll had
too much at home to fill his heart to leave room for a troubled
pulsation on this account. He was conscience-clear on the score of
obligation to his parishioners.

At last, and this before the year had come to its close, the
drooping wife and mother took to her bed, never again to leave it
until carried forth by the mourners. We will not pain the reader by
any details of the affecting scenes attendant upon the last few
weeks of her mortal life; nor take him to the bed-side of the dying
one, in the hour that she passed away. To state the fact that she
died, is enough--and painful enough.

For all this, it did not occur to the people of Y--that, in
anything they had been lacking. They had never given but three
hundred a year to a minister, and, as a matter of course, considered
the sum as much as a reasonable man could expect. As for keeping a
clergyman in luxury, and permitting him to get rich; they did not
think it consistent with the office he held, which required
self-denial and a renouncing of the world. As to how he could live
on so small a sum, that was a question rarely asked; and when
presented, was put to rest by some backhanded kind of an answer,
that left the matter as much in the dark as ever.

Notwithstanding the deep waters of affliction through which Mr.
Carroll was required to pass, his Sabbath duties were but once
omitted, and that on the day after he had looked for the last time
upon the face of his lost one. Four Sabbaths more he preached, and
then, in accordance with notice a short time previously given,
resigned his pastoral charge. There were many to urge him with great
earnestness not to leave them; but a year's experience enabled him
to see clearer than he did before, and to act with greater decision.
In the hope of retaining him, the vestry strained a point, and
offered to make the salary three hundred and fifty dollars. But much
to their surprise, the liberal offer was refused.

It happened that the Bishop of the Diocese came to visit Y--a week
before Mr. Carroll intended taking his departure with his motherless
children, for his old home, where a church had been offered him in
connexion with a school. To him, three or four prominent members of
the church complained that the minister was mercenary, and looked
more to the loaves and fishes than to the duty of saving souls.

"Mercenary!" said the Bishop, with a strong expression of surprise.

"Yes, mercenary," repeated his accusers.

"So far from it," said the Bishop, warmly, "he has paid more during
the year, for supporting the Gospel in Y--, than any five men in
the parish put together."

"Mr. Carroll has!"

"How much do you give?" addressing one.

"I pay ten dollars pew rent, and give ten extra, besides," was the
answer.

"And you," speaking to another.

"The same."

"And you?"

"Thirty dollars, in all."

"While," said the Bishop, speaking with increased warmth, "your
minister gave two hundred dollars."

This, of course, took them greatly by surprise, and they asked for
an explanation. "It is given in a few words," returned the Bishop.
"It cost him, though living in the most frugal manner, five hundred
dollars for the year. Of this, you paid three hundred, and he two
hundred dollars."

"I don't understand you, Bishop," said one.

"Plainly, then; he was in debt at the end of the year, two hundred
dollars, for articles necessary for the health and comfort of his
family, to pay which he has sold a large part of his furniture. He
was not working for himself, but for you, and, therefore, actually
paid two hundred dollars for the support of the Gospel in Y--,
while you paid but twenty or thirty dollars apiece. Under these
circumstances, my friends, be assured that the charge of being
mercenary, comes with an exceeding bad grace. Nor is this all that
he has sacrificed. An insufficient income threw upon his wife,
duties beyond her strength to bear; and she sunk under them. Had you
stepped forward in time, and lightened these duties by a simple act
of justice, she night still be living to bless her husband and
children!--Three hundred a year for a man with a wife and three
children, is not enough; and you know it, my brethren! Not one of
you could live on less than double the sum."

This rebuke came with a stunning force upon the ears of men who had
expected the Bishop to agree with them in their complaint, and had
its effect. On the day Mr. Carroll left the village, he received a
kind and sympathetic letter from the official members of the church
enclosing the sum of two hundred dollars. The first impulse of his
natural feelings was to return the enclosure, but reflection showed
him that such an act would be wrong; and so he retained it, after
such acknowledgments as he deemed the occasion required.

Back to his old home the minister went, but with feelings, how
different, alas! from those he had experienced on leaving for Y--.
The people among whom he had labored for a year, felt as if they had
amply paid him for all the service he had rendered; in fact had
overpaid him, as if money, doled out grudgingly, could compensate
for all he had sacrificed and suffered, in his effort to break for
them the Bread of Life.

Here is one of the phases of ministerial life, presented with little
ornament or attractiveness. There are many other phases, more
pleasant to look upon, and far more flattering to the good opinion
we are all inclined to entertain of ourselves. But it is not always
best to look upon the fairest side. The cold reality of things, it
is needful that we should sometimes see. The parish of Y--, does
not, by any means, stand alone. And Mr. Carroll is not, the only man
who has suffered wrong from the hands of those who called him to
minister in spiritual things, yet neglected duly to provide for the
natural and necessary wants of the body.






I'LL SEE ABOUT IT.





MR. EASY sat alone in his counting room, one afternoon, in a most
comfortable frame, both as regards mind and body. A profitable
speculation in the morning had brought the former into a state of
great complacency, and a good dinner had done all that was required
for the repose of the latter. He was in that delicious, half asleep,
half awake condition, which, occurring after dinner, is so very
pleasant. The newspaper, whose pages at first possessed a charm for
his eye, had fallen, with the hand that held--it, upon his knee. His
head was gently reclined backwards against the top of a high,
leather cushioned chair; while his eyes, half opened, saw all things
around him but imperfectly. Just at this time the door was quietly
opened, and a lad of some fifteen or sixteen years, with a pale,
thin face, high forehead, and large dark eyes, entered. He
approached the merchant with a hesitating step, and soon stood
directly before him.

Mr. Easy felt disturbed at this intrusion, for so he felt it. He
knew the lad to be the son of a poor widow, who had once seen better
circumstances than those that now surrounded her. Her husband had,
while living, been his intimate friend, and he had promised him, at
his dying hour, to be the protector and adviser of his wife and
children. He had meant to do all he promised, but, not being very
fond of trouble, except where stimulated to activity by the hope of
gaining some good for himself, he had not been as thoughtful in
regard to Mrs. Mayberry as he ought to have been. She was a modest,
shrinking, sensitive woman, and had, notwithstanding her need of a
friend and adviser, never called upon Mr. Easy, or even sent to
request him to act for her in any thing, except once. Her husband
had left her poor. She knew little of the world. She had three quite
young children, and one, the oldest, about sixteen. Had Mr. Easy
been true to his pledge, he might have thrown many a ray upon her
dark path, and lightened her burdened heart of many a doubt and
fear. But he had permitted more than a year to pass since the death
of her husband, without having once called upon her. This neglect
had not been intentional. His will was good but never active at the
present moment. "To-morrow," or "next week," or "very soon," he
would call upon Mrs. Mayberry; but to-morrow, or next week, or very
soon, had never yet come.

As for the widow, soon after her husband's death, she found that
poverty was to be added to affliction. A few hundred dollars made up
the sum of all that she received after the settlement of his
business, which had never been in a very prosperous condition. On
this, under the exercise of extreme frugality, she had been enabled
to live for nearly a year. Then the paucity of her little store made
it apparent to her mind that individual exertion was required
directed towards procuring the means of support for her little
family. Ignorant of the way in which this was to be done, and having
no one to advise her, nearly two months more passed before she could
determine what to do. By that time she had but a few dollars left,
and was in a state of great mental distress and uncertainty. She
then applied for work at some of the shops, and obtained common
sewing, but at prices that could not yield her any thing like a
support.

Hiram, her oldest son, had been kept at school up to this period.
But now she had to withdraw him. It was impossible any longer to pay
his tuition fees. He was an intelligent lad--active in mind, and
pure in his moral principles. But like his mother; sensitive, and
inclined to avoid observation. Like her, too, he had a proud
independence of feeling, that made him shrink from asking or
accepting a favor, putting himself under an obligation to any one.
He first became aware of his mother's true condition, when she took
him from school, and explained the reason for so doing. At once his
mind rose into the determination to do something to aid his mother.
He felt a glowing confidence, arising from the consciousness of
strength within. He felt that he had both the will and the power to
act, and to act efficiently.

"Don't be disheartened, mother," he said, with animation. "I can and
will do something. I can help you. You have worked for me a great
many years. Now I will work for you."

Where there is a will, there is a way. But it is often the case,
that the will lacks the kind of intelligence that enables it to find
the right way at once. So it proved in the case of Hiram Mayberry.
He had a strong enough will, but did not know how to bring it into
activity. Good, without its appropriate truth, is impotent. Of this
the poor lad soon became conscious. To the question of his mother--

"What can you do, child!" an answer came not so readily.

"Oh, I can do a great many things," was easily said; but, even in
saying so, a sense of inability followed the first thought of what
he should do, that the declaration awakened.

The will impels, and then the understanding seeks for the means of
affecting the purposes of the will. In the case of young Hiram,
thought followed affection. He pondered for many days over the means
by which he was to aid his mother. But, the more he thought, the
more conscious did he become, that, in the world, he was a weak boy.
That however strong might be his purpose, his means of action were
limited. His mother could aid him but little. She had but one
suggestion to make, and that was, that he should endeavor, to get a
situation in some store, or counting room. This he attempted to do.
Following her direction, he called upon Mr. Easy, who promised to
see about looking him up a situation. It happened, the day after,
that a neighbor spoke to him about a lad for his store--(Mr. Easy
had already forgotten his promise)--Hiram was recommended, and the
man called to see his mother.

"How much salary can you afford to give him?" asked Mrs. Mayberry,
after learning all about the situation, and feeling satisfied that
her son should accept of it.

"Salary, ma'am?" returned the storekeeper, in a tone of surprise.
"We never give a boy any salary for the first year. The knowledge
that is acquired of business is always considered a full
compensation. After the first year, if he likes us, and we like him,
we may give him seventy-five or a hundred dollars."

Poor Mrs. Mayberry's countenance fell immediately.

"I wouldn't think of his going out now, if it were not in the hope
of his earning something," she said in a disappointed voice.

"How much did you expect him to earn?" was asked by the storekeeper.

"I didn't know exactly what to expect. But I supposed that he might
earn four or five dollars a week."

"Five dollars a week is all we pay our porter, an able bodied,
industrious man," was returned. "If you wish your son to become
acquainted with mercantile business, you must not expect him to earn
much for three or four years. At a trade you may receive for him
barely a sufficiency to board and clothe him, but nothing more."

This declaration so dampened the feelings of the mother that she
could not reply for some moments. At length she said--

"If you will take my boy with the understanding, that, in case I am
not able to support him, or hear of a situation where a salary can
be obtained, you will let him leave your employment without hard
feelings, he shall go into your store at once."

To this the man consented, and Hiram Mayberry went with him
according to agreement. A few weeks passed, and the lad, liking both
the business and his employer, his mother felt exceedingly anxious
for him to remain. But she sadly feared that this could not be. Her
little store was just about exhausted, and the most she had yet been
able to earn by working for the shops, was a dollar and a half a
week. This was not more than sufficient to buy the plainest food for
her little flock. It would not pay rent, nor get clothing. To meet
the former, recourse was had to the sale of her husband's small,
select library. Careful mending kept the younger children tolerably
decent, and by altering for him the clothes left by his father, she
was able to keep Hiram in a suitable condition, to appear at the
store of his employer.