Anna Katherine Green - "The Mill Mystery"

Catherine E. Beecher and Harriet Beecher Stowe - "The American Woman's Home"

John Martin Crawford, trans. - "The Kalevala (complete)"

Henry James - "A Passionate Pilgrim"

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




"Poor thing! how I pity her," said the clerk in the stage-office,
when Mrs. W. had retired. "Her husband is a scoundrel, that's all I
know about it," responded the gentleman-gambler, who had sent
Warburton out on a swindling expedition.

"The more the pity for his poor wife."

"I wonder if she has any property of his in her hands?" queried the
gambler.

"Why?"

"Why?--Why because I'll have my own out of it if she has. I have his
note, payable in a week, for money lent; and if he has got a dollar
here, I'll have it."

"You'll not turn his wife out of doors, will you?"

"Will I?"--and his face grew dark with evil thoughts.--"Will
I?--yes!--what care I for the whining wench! I'll see her to-morrow,
and know what we have both to expect."

"Coulson!" said the clerk, in an excited but firm voice--"You shall
not trouble that helpless, unfortunate woman!"

"_Shall not?_ ha! Pray, Mr. Sympathy, and how can you hinder me?"

"Look you to that, sir. I _act_, you know, not threaten."

The gambler's face grew darker, but the clerk turned away with a
look of contempt, and resumed his employment.

That night he sought the dwelling of Mrs. Warburton. He found her
boarding at a respectable house on--street. He named his business
at once, and warned her not to allow herself to get in the power of
Coulson, who was a gambler, and an abandoned villain.

When he understood her real situation--that she was in debt for
board, and without a dollar, forsaken of her husband, and among
strangers, his heart ached for her. Himself but on the salary of a
clerk, he could give little or no assistance. But advice and
sympathy he tendered, and requested her to call on him at any time,
if she thought that he could aid her. A kind word, a sympathising
tone, is, to one in such a sad condition, like gentle dews to the
parched ground.

"Above all," was his parting admonition, "beware of Coulson! He will
injure your character if he can. Do not see him. Forbid the servants
to admit him. He will, if he fixes his heart upon seeing you, leave
no stone unturned to accomplish it. But waver not in your
determination. And be sure to let me know if he persecutes you too
closely. Be resolute, and fear not. I know the man, and have crossed
his path ere this. And he knows me."

Early on the next day, Coulson called, and with the most insinuating
address, asked to see Mrs. Warburton.

"Ask him to send up his name," was Mrs. W.'s reply to the
information of the servant, that a gentleman wished to speak to her.

"Coulson," was returned.

"Tell him that I cannot see him."

To this answer he sent back word that his business was important and
urgent.

"Tell him that I cannot see him," was the firm reply.

Coulson left the house, baffled for once. The next day he called,
and sent up another name.

"He is the same person who called himself 'Coulson' yesterday," said
the servant to Mrs. W.

"Tell him that I cannot be seen."

"I'll match the huzzy yet!" he muttered to himself as he left the
house.

It now became necessary for Mrs. Warburton to rally all the energies
of her nature, feeble though they were, and yet untried. The rate of
boarding which she was required to pay, was much beyond what she
could now afford. At first she nearly gave up to despair. Thus far
in life, she had never earned a single dollar, and, from her
earliest recollection, the thought of working for money seemed to
imply degradation. But necessity soon destroys false pride. Her
greatest concern now was, what she should do for a living. She had
learned to play on the piano, to draw and paint, and had practised
embroidery. But in all these she had sought only amusement. In not a
single one of them was she proficient enough to teach. Fine sewing
she could not do. Her dresses had all been made by the mantua-maker,
and her fine sewing by the family sempstress. She had been raised in
idle pleasure--had spent her time in thrumming on the piano, making
calls, tripping about the streets, and entertaining company.

But wherever there is the will, there is a way. Through the kind
interference of a stranger, she was enabled to act decisively. Two
rooms were procured, and after selling various articles of costly
chamber furniture which still remained, she was enabled to furnish
them plainly and comfortably, and have about fifty dollars left.
Through the kind advice of this same stranger, (where were all her
former friends?) employment was had, by which she was soon able to
earn from four to five dollars a week.

Her employment was making cigars. At first, the tobacco made her so
sick that she was unable to hold her head up, or work more than half
her time. But after awhile she became used to it, and could work
steadily all day; though she often suffered with a distressing
headache. Mrs. Warburton was perhaps the first woman who made cigars
in--. Through the application of a third person, to a
manufacturer, the work was obtained, and given, from motives of
charity.

She had been thus employed for about three months, and was beginning
to work skilfully enough to earn four dollars a week, and give all
necessary attention to herself and child, when Mr.--, the
manufacturer, received a note signed by all the journeymen in his
shop, demanding of him the withdrawal of all work from Mrs.
Warburton, on pain of their refusal to work a day longer. It was an
infringement, they said, upon their rights. Women could afford to
work cheaper than men, and would ruin the business.

Mr.--was well off, and, withal, a man who could brook no
dictation, in his business. His journeymen were paid their regular
wages, and had, he knew, no right to say whom he should employ; and
for any such interference he promptly resolved to teach them a
lesson. He was, moreover, indignant that a parcel of men, many of
whom spent more money at the taverns and in foolish expenses, in the
week, than the poor forsaken mother of a young babe could earn in
that time, should heartlessly endeavour to rob the more than widow
of her hard-earned mite.

"I will sacrifice half that I am worth, before I will yield to such
dictation," was his only answer to the demand. The foolish men
"struck," and turned out to lounge idly in taverns and other places,
until their employer should come to terms. They were, however, soon
convinced of their folly; for but a few weeks elapsed before Mr. had
employed females to make his cigars, who could afford to work for
one-third less than the journeymen had been receiving, and make good
wages at that. The consequence was, that the men who had, from
motives of selfishness, endeavoured to deprive Mrs. W. of her only
chance of support, were unable to obtain work at any price. Several
of them fell into idle and dissolute habits, and became vagabonds.
Other manufacturers of cigars followed the example of Mr.--, and
lessened the demand for journeymen; and the result in this instance
was but a similar one to that which always follows combinations
against employers--viz: to injure the interests of journeymen.

It was not long before Coulson found out the retreat of Mrs.
Warburton, and commenced his persecutions. The note of her husband
had fallen due, and his first movement was to demand the payment.
Perceiving, however, at once, that to make the money out of any
property in her possession was impossible, he changed his manner,
and offered to befriend her in any way that lay in his power. For a
moment she was thrown off her guard; but remembering the caution she
had received, she assumed a manner of the most rigid coldness
towards him, and told him that she already had friends who would
care for her. The next day she managed to apprize the clerk in the
Stage Office of the visit of Coulson, who promptly took measures to
alarm his fears, for he was a coward at heart, and effectually
prevent his again troubling her.

Little of an interesting nature occurred for about a year, when she
received a letter from her husband at Cincinnati. He stated that
having despaired of getting along in the business he had entered
into on leaving--which had involved him in debt, he had left with a
company of traders for Mexico, and had just returned with a little
money, with which he wished to go into business. But that if he
returned to--, he would be troubled, and all he had taken from him.
He enclosed her a hundred dollar note, and wished her to come to him
immediately, and to leave--without letting any one know her
destination. He professed much sorrow for having left her in so
destitute a condition, but pleaded stern necessity for the act.

Mrs. W. did not hesitate a moment. In four days from the time she
received the letter, she was on the way to Cincinnati. Arrived
there, she was met by her husband with some show of affection. He
was greatly changed since she had seen him, and showed many
indications of irregular habits. He appeared to have plenty of
money, and took rooms for his wife in a respectable boardinghouse.
The improvement in his child pleased him much. When he went away it
was only about five months old--now it was a bright little boy, and
could run about and chatter like a bird. After some hesitation in
regard to the kind of business he should select, he at last
determined to go into the river-trade. To this Mrs. Warburton gently
objected; because it would keep him away from home for months
together. But his capital was small, and he at length made his first
purchase of produce, and started in a flat-boat for New Orleans.
Poor Mrs. W. felt as if deserted again when he left her. But at the
end of three months he returned, having cleared four hundred dollars
by the trip. He remained at home this time for two months, drinking
and gambling; and at the expiration of that period had barely enough
left to make a small purchase and start again.

Her troubles, she plainly saw, were just beginning again, and Mrs.
Warburton almost wished herself back again in the city, for which,
though there she had no friends, her heart yearned.

Her husband did not return, this time, from his river-voyage, for
three months; nor did he send his wife during that time any money.
The amount left her was entirely exhausted before the end of the
second month, and having heard nothing of him since he went away,
she feared to get in debt, and, therefore, two weeks before her
money was out, applied for work at a cigar-factory. Here she was
fortunate enough to obtain employment, and thus keep herself above
absolute want.

Long before her husband returned, her heart had fearful forebodings
of a second blighting of all its dearest hopes. Not the less
painful, were those anticipations, because she had once suffered.

One evening in June, just three months from the time her husband
left, she had paused from her almost unremitted employment, during
the violence of a tremendous storm, that was raging without. The
thunder rattled around in startling peals, and the lightning blazed
from cloud to cloud, without a moment's intermission. She could not
work while she felt that the bolt of death hung over her. For half
an hour had the storm raged, when in one of the pauses which
indicated its passing away, she started at the sound of a voice that
seemed like that of her husband. In the next moment another voice
mingled with it, and both were loud and angry. Fearfully she flung
open the door, and just on the pavement, drenched with the rain, and
unregardful of the storm, for one more terrible raged within, stood
two men, contending with each other in mortal strife, while horrible
oaths and imprecations rolled from their lips. One of these, from
his distorted face, rendered momently visible in the vivid flashes
of the lightning, and from his voice, though loud and disguised by
passion, she at once knew to be her husband. His antagonist was not
so strong a man, but he was more active, and seemed much cooler.
Each had in his hand an open Spanish knife, and both were striking,
plunging, and parrying thrusts with the most malignant fury. It was
an awful sight to look upon. Two human beings striving for each
other's lives amid the fury of a terrible storm, the lightnings of
which glanced sharply upon their glittering knives, revealing their
fiend-like countenances for an instant, and then leaving them in
black darkness.

For a few moments, Mrs. Warburton stood fixed to the spot, but,
recalling her scattered senses, she rushed towards the combatants,
calling upon them to pause, and repeating the name of her husband in
a voice of agony. The result of the strife was delayed but an
instant longer, for with a loud cry her husband fell bleeding at her
feet. His antagonist passed out of sight in a moment.

Lifting the apparently lifeless form of her husband in her arms,
Mrs. Warburton carried or rather dragged him into the house, and
placed him upon the bed, where lay their sleeping boy. She then
hurried off for the nearest physician, who was soon in attendance.

The first sound that met the ear of Mrs. Warburton, on her return,
was the voice of her dear child, eagerly calling, "Pa! pa! wake up,
pa!"--And there was the little fellow pulling at the insensible body
of his father, in an (sic) extacy of infantile joy at his return.

"Pa come home!--Pa come home, mamma!" And the little fellow clapped
his hands, and shook the body of his father in the effort to wake
him.

The mother gently lifted her child from the bed. His little face
instantly changed its expression into one of fear, when he looked
into his mother's countenance. "Pa's very sick, and little Charles
must keep still," she whispered to the child, and sat him down in
the next room.

When the physician arrived, he found that the knife had entered the
left breast just above the heart, but had not penetrated far enough
to destroy life. There were also several bad cuts, in different
parts of his body, all of which required attention. After dressing
them, he left the still insensible man in the care of his wife and
one of his assistants, with directions to have him called should any
alarming symptom occur. It was not until the next morning that there
was any apparent return of consciousness on the part of the wounded
man. Then he asked in a feeble voice for his wife. She had left the
bed but a moment before, and hearing him speak, was by his side in
an instant.

"Julia, how came I here? What is the matter?" said he, rousing up,
and looking anxiously around. But overcome with weakness from the
loss of blood, he sank back upon the bed, and remained apparently
insensible for some time. But he soon showed evidence of painful
recollection having returned. For his breathing became more
laboured, under agitated feelings, and he glanced his eyes about the
room with an eager expression. After a few minutes he buried his
face in the bed-clothes and sighed heavily. Distinct, painful
consciousness had returned.

In a few days he began to grow stronger, and was able to sit up; and
with the return of bodily vigour came back the deadly passions that
had agitated him on the night of his return home. The man, he said,
had literally robbed him of his money, (in fact, won it); had
cheated him out of every dollar of his hard-earned gains, and he
would have his life.

When hardly well enough to walk about, Warburton felt the evil
influence of his desire for revenge so strong, as to cause him to
seek out the individual who, he conceived, had wronged him, by
winning from him, or cheating him out of his money. They met in one
of the vile places in Cincinnati, where vice loves to do her dark
work in secret. Truly are they called hells, for there the love of
evil and hatred of the neighbour prompt to action. Every malignant
passion in the heart of Warburton was roused into full vigour, when
his eyes fell upon the face of his former associate. Instantly he
grasped his knife, and with a yell of fiendish exultation sprang
towards him, like some savage beast eager for his prey. The other
gambler was a cool man, and hard to throw off of his guard. His
first movement was to knock Warburton down, then drawing his Spanish
knife, he waited calmly and firmly for his enemy to rise. Blind with
passion, Warburton sprang to his feet and rushed upon the other, who
received him upon the point of his knife, which entered deep into
the abdomen. At the same instant, Warburton's knife was plunged into
the heart of his adversary, who staggered off from its point, reeled
for a few seconds about the room, and then fell heavily upon the
floor. He was dead before the cool spectators of the horrid scene
could raise him up.

From loss of blood Warburton soon fainted, and when he came to
himself, he found that he had been conveyed to his home, and that
his weeping wife stood over him. There were also others in the room,
and he soon learned that he was to be conveyed, even in the
condition he was then in, to prison, to await his trial for murder.

In vain did his poor heart-stricken wife plead that he might be left
there until he recovered, or even until his wound was dressed; but
she pleaded in vain. On a litter, faint from loss of blood, and
groaning with pain, he was carried off to prison. By his side walked
her whom no ill treatment or neglect could estrange.

Three months he was kept in jail, attended daily by his
uncomplaining wife, who supported herself and little boy, with her
own hands, sparing much for her husband's comfort. The wound had not
proved very dangerous, and long before his trial came on, he was as
well as ever.

The day of trial at length came, and Mrs. Warburton found that it
required her strongest efforts to keep sufficiently composed to
comprehend the true nature and bearing of all the legal proceedings.
Never in her life before had she been in a court of justice, and the
bare idea of being in that, to her awful, place, stunned at first
all her perceptions; especially as she was there under circumstances
of such deep and peculiar interest.

Next to her husband, in the bar, did this suffering woman take her
place: and that husband arraigned before. his country's tribunal for
the highest crime--murder! How little did she dream of such an awful
situation, years before, when a gay, thoughtless, innocent girl, she
gave up in maiden confidence, and with deep joy, her affections to
that husband. Passing on step by step, in misery's paths, she had at
last reached a point, the bare idea of which, had it been
entertained as possible for a moment, would have almost extinguished
life. Now, her deep interest in that husband who had abused her
confidence, and almost extinguished hope in her bosom, kept her up,
and enabled her to watch with unwavering attention every minute
proceeding.

After the indictment was read, and the State's Attorney, in a
comprehensive manner, had stated the distinct features of the case,
which he pledged himself to prove by competent witnesses, poor Mrs.
Warburton became sick and faint. A clearer case of deliberate murder
could not, it seemed to her, be made out. Still, she was sure there
must be palliating circumstances, and longed to be permitted to rise
and state her impressions of the case. Once she did start to her
feet, but a right consciousness returned before she had uttered a
word. Shrinking into her seat again, she watched with a pale face
and eager look, the course of the proceedings.

Witness after witness was called on the part of the state, each
testifying distinctly the fact of Warburton's attack upon the
murdered man, and his threat to take his life. Hope seemed utterly
to fail from the heart of the poor wife, when the testimony on the
part of the prosecution closed. But now came the time for the
examination of witnesses in favour of the prisoner. Soon Mrs.
Warburton was seen upon her feet, bending over towards the witness'
stand, and eagerly devouring each word. Rapid changes would pass
over her countenance, as she comprehended, with a woman's quickness
of perception, rendered acute by strong interest, the bearing which
the evidence would have upon the case. Now her eye would flash with
interest and her face become flushed--and now her cheek would pale,
and her form seem to shrink into half its dimensions. Oh! who can
imagine one thousandth part of all her sufferings on that awful
occasion? When, finally, the case was given to the jury, and after
waiting hour after hour at the court-house, to hear the decision,
she had to go home long after dark, in despair of knowing the result
before morning, it seemed hardly possible that she could pass
through that night and retain her senses. She did not sleep through
the night's long watches--how could she sleep? Hours before the
court assembled, she was at the court-house, waiting to know the
fate of one, who now, in his fearful extremity, seemed dearer to her
than ever. Slowly passed the lingering minutes, and at length ten
o'clock came. The court-room was filled to suffocation, but through
the dense crowd she made her way, and took her place beside her
anxious husband. The court opened, and the foreman of the jury came
forward to read the verdict. Many an eye sought with eager
curiosity, or strong interest, the face of the wife. Its calmness
was strange and awful. All anxiety, all deep interest had left it,
and as she turned her eye upon the foreman, none could read the
slightest exhibition of emotion. "GUILTY OF MURDER IN THE SECOND
DEGREE!" Quick as thought a hundred eyes again sought the face of
Mrs. Warburton. It was pale as ashes, and her insensible form was
gently reclining upon the arm of her husband, which had been
extended to save her from falling.

When recollection returned, she was lying upon her own bed, in her
own chamber, with her little boy crying by her side. Those who had,
from humane feelings, conveyed her home, suffered the dictates of
humanity to die in their bosoms ere her consciousness returned; and
thus she was left, insensible, with no companion but her child.

In due course, Warburton was sentenced to eight years imprisonment,
the first three years to be passed in solitary confinement. During
the first term, no person was to be allowed to visit him. The
knowledge of such a sentence was a dreadful blow to Mrs. Warburton.
She parted from him in the court-room, on the day of his sentence,
and for three long, weary years, her eyes saw him not again.

But a short time after the imprisonment of Warburton, another babe
came into the world to share the misery of her whose happiness he
had, in all his actions, so little regarded. When able again to go
about, and count up her store, Mrs. Warburton found that she had
little left her beyond a willing heart to labour for her children.
It would have been some comfort to her if she had been permitted to
visit her husband, but this the law forbade.

"Despair is never quite despair," and once more in her life did Mrs.
Warburton prove this. The certainty that there could be no further
dependence upon her husband, led her to repose more confidently in
her own resources, for a living, and they did not fail her. She had
long since found out that our necessities cost much less than our
superfluities, and therefore she did not sit down in idle
despondency. Early in the morning and late at night was she found
diligently employed, and though her compensation was not great, it
was enough to supply her real wants.

For two years had she supported thus with her own hands herself and
children. The oldest was now a smart little fellow of five years,
and the youngest a fair-haired girl of some two summers. Thus far
had she kept them around her; but sickness at last came. Nature
could not always sustain the heavy demands made upon her, and at
last sunk under them.

There are many more cases of extreme suffering in this country than
persons are generally willing to believe. These extreme cases are
among those whose peculiar feelings will not allow of their making
known their real condition. They are such as were once members of
some social circle, far removed indeed from the apparent chances of
poverty. Their shrinking pride, their yearning desire for
independence clings closer and closer to them, and operates more and
more powerfully, as they sink lower and lower, from uncontrollable
causes, into the vale of want and destitution. Beggars with no
feelings, and no claims beyond those of idleness and intemperance,
thrust themselves forward, and consume the bread of charity, that
should go to nourish the widow and the orphan, who suffer daily and
nightly, rather than ask for aid.

One to whom the idea of eating the bread of charity had ever been a
painful and revolting one, was Mrs. Warburton. So long as she was
able, she had earned with untiring industry, the food that nourished
her children. But close confinement, insufficient nourishment,
labour beyond her strength, and above all, a wounded spirit, at last
completed the undermining work, which threw down the tottering and
feeble health that had long kept her at her duties.

It was mid-winter when she was severely attacked by a
bilious-pleurisy. For some weeks she had drooped about, hardly able
to perform half her wonted labour--most of that time suffering from
a hard cough and distressing pain in the side, which was augmented
almost to agony while bending steadily, and for hours over her work.
Taking, as it did, all that she could earn to keep herself and
children in comfort during the winter, she had nothing laid up for a
time of more pressing need; and, as for the last few weeks, she had
earned so little as to have barely enough for necessaries, when
helplessness came, she was in utter destitution, Her wood was just
out, except a few hard, knotted logs; her flour was out, and her
money gone. When she could no longer sit up, she sent her little boy
for a physician, who bled her, and left her some powerful medicines.
The first gave temporary relief, and the latter reduced her to a
state of great bodily and mental weakness. He did not call in again
until the second day, when he found the children both in bed with
their mother, who was suffering greatly from a return of the pain in
her side. The room was chilly, for there was no fire, and it was
intensely cold without, and the ground covered with a deep snow. He
again bled her, which produced immediate relief, and learning that
she had no wood, called in at the next door, where lived a wealthy
family, and stated the condition of their poor neighbour A child of
six years old stood by his mother while the physician was speaking.
The lady seemed much affected when told of the sufferings of the,
poor woman, politely thanked the physician for making her acquainted
with the fact, and promised immediate attention.