Christopher Pierce Cranch - "The Last of the Huggermuggers"

Lawrence Beesley - "The Loss of the SS. Titanic"

Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v6: The Magick Cup"

Catherine Parr Traill - "In The Forest"

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: Nature and Human Nature

T >> Thomas Chandler Haliburton >> Nature and Human Nature




"'Aunt,' sais Miss Diantha, 'do you know what
gyp--gypsy--gypsymum--gypsymuming is? Did you ever hear how I stutter
to-day? I can't get a word out hardly. Ain't it provoking?'

"Well, stammering is provoking; but a pretty little accidental
impediment of speech like that, accompanied with a little graceful bob
of the head, is very taking, ain't it?

"'Gypsuming,' sais the wise matron, 'is the plaster of Paris trade,
dear. They carry it on at Windsor, your father says.'

"Pistol gives Target a wink, for they are honouring the party by their
company, though the mother of one keeps a lodging-house at Bath, and
the father of the other makes real genuine East India curry in London.
They look down on the whole of the townspeople. It is natural; pot
always calls kettle an ugly name.

"'No, Ma,' sais Di--all the girls address her as Di; ain't it a pretty
abbreviation for a die-away young lady? But she is not a die-away
lass; she is more of a Di Vernon. 'No, Ma,' sais Di, 'gipsey--ing,
what a hard word it is! Mr Russel says it's what they call these
parties in England. It is so like the gipsy life.'

"'There is one point,' sais Pistol, 'in which they differ.'

"'What's that?' sais Di.

"'Do you give it up?'

"'Yes.'

"'There the gipsy girls steal poultry; and here they steal hearts,'
and he puts his left hand by mistake on his breast, not knowing that
the pulsation there indicates that his lungs, and not his gizzard is
affected, and that he is broken-winded, and not broken-hearted.

"'Very good,' every one sais; but still every one hasn't heard it, so
it has to be repeated; and what is worse, as the habits of the gipsies
are not known to all, the point has to be explained.

"Target sais, 'He will send it to the paper, and put Trigger's name to
it,' and Pistol says, 'That is capital, for if he calls you out, he
can't hit you,' and there is a joyous laugh. Oh dear, but a day in the
woods is a pleasant thing. For my own part, I must say I quite agree
with the hosier, who, when he first went to New Orleens, and saw such
a swad of people there, said, he 'didn't onderstand how on earth it
was that folks liked to live in a heap that way, altogether, where
there was no corn to plant, and no bears to kill.'

"'My, oh my!' sais Miss Letitia, or Letkissyou, as Pistol used to call
her. People ought to be careful what names they give their children,
so as folks can't fasten nicknames on 'em. Before others the girls
called her Letty, and that's well enough; but sometimes they would
call her Let, which is the devil. If a man can't give a pretty fortune
to his child, he can give it a pretty name at any rate.

"There was a very large family of Cards wunst to Slickville. They were
mostly in the stage-coach and livery-stable line, and careless,
reckless sort of people. So one day, Squire Zenas Card had a
christenin' at his house.

"'Sais the Minister, 'what shall I call the child?'

"'Pontius Pilate,' said he.

"'I can't,' said the Minister, 'and I won't. No soul ever heerd of
such a name for a Christian since baptism came in fashion.'

"'I am sorry for that,' said the Squire, 'for it's a mighty pretty
name. I heard it once in church, and I thought if ever I had a son
I'de call him after him; but if I can't have that--and it's a dreadful
pity--call him Trump;' and he was christenened Trump Card.

"'Oh my!' sais Miss Letitia, lispin', 'Captain De la Cour has smashed
my bonnet, see, he is setting upon it. Did you ever?'

"'Never,' said Di, 'he has converted your cottage bonnet into a
country seat, I do declare!'

"Everybody exclaimed, 'That is excellent,' and Russel said, 'Capital,
by Jove.'

"'That kind of thing,' said De la Cour, 'is more honoured in the
breach than the observance;' and winked to Target.

"Miss Di is an inveterate punster, so she returns to the charge.

"'Letty, what fish is that, the name of which would express all you
said about your bonnet?--do you give it up? A bon-net-o!' (Boneto).

"'Well, I can't fathom that,' sais De la Cour.

"'I don't wonder at that,' sais the invincible Di; 'it is beyond your
depth, for it is an out-of-soundings fish.'

"Poor De la Cour, you had better let her alone, she is too many guns
for you. Scratch your head, for your curls and your name are all that
you have to be proud of. Let her alone, she is wicked, and she is
meditating a name for you and Pistol that will stick to you as long as
you live, she has it on the tip of her tongue--'The babes in the
wood.'

"Now for the baskets--now for the spread. The old gentlemen break up
their Lloyds' meeting--the old ladies break up their scandal club--the
young ladies and their beaux are busy in arrangements, and though the
cork-screws are nowhere to be found, Pistol has his in one of the many
pockets of his woodsman's coat, he never goes without it (like one of
his mother's waiters), which he calls his young man's best companion;
and which another, who was a year in an attorney's office, while
waiting for his commission, calls the crown circuit assistant; and a
third, who has just arrived in a steamer, designates as the screw
propeller. It was a sensible provision, and Miss Di said, 'a corkscrew
and a pocket-pistol were better suited to him than a rifle,' and every
one said it was a capital joke that--for everybody likes a shot that
don't hit themselves.

"'How tough the goose is!' sais G soft. 'I can't carve it.'

"'Ah!' sais Di, 'when Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.'

"Eating and talking lasts a good while, but they don't last for ever.
The ladies leave the gentlemen to commence their smoking and finish
their drinking, and presently there is a loud laugh; it's more than a
laugh, it's a roar; and the ladies turn round and wonder.

"Letty sais, 'When the wine is in, the wit is out.'

"'True," sais Di, 'the wine is there, but when you left them the wit
went out.'

"'Rather severe,' said Letty.

"'Not at all,' sais Di, 'for I was with you.'

"It is the last shot of poor Di. She won't take the trouble to talk
well for ladies, and those horrid Mudges have a party on purpose to
take away all the pleasant men. She never passed so stupid a day. She
hates pic-nics, and will never go to one again. De la Cour is a fool,
and is as full of airs as a night-hawk is of feathers. Pistol is a
bore; Target is both poor and stingy; Trigger thinks more of himself
than anybody else; and as for G soft, he is a goose. She will never
speak to Pippen again for not coming. They are a poor set of devils in
the garrison; she is glad they are to have a new regiment.

"Letty hasn't enjoyed herself either, she has been devoured by black
flies and musquitoes, and has got her feet wet, and is so tired she
can't go to the ball. The sleeping partner of the head of the firm is
out of sorts, too. Her crony-gossip gave her a sly poke early in the
day, to show her she recollected when she was young (not that she is
so old now either, for she knows the grave gentleman who visits at her
house is said to like the mother better than the daughter), but before
she was married, and friends who have such wonderful memories are not
very pleasant companions, though it don't do to have them for enemies.
But then, poor thing, and she consoles herself with the idea the poor
thing has daughters herself, and they are as ugly as sin, and not half
so agreeable. But it isn't that altogether. Sarah Matilda should not
have gone wandering out of hearing with the captain, and she must give
her a piece of her mind about it, for there is a good deal of truth in
the old saying, 'If the girls won't run after the men, the men will
run after them;' so she calls out loudly, 'Sarah Matilda, my love,
come here, dear,' and Sarah Matilda knows when the honey is produced,
physic is to be taken, but she knows she is under observation, and so
she flies to her dear mamma, with the feet and face of an angel, and
they gradually withdraw.

"'Dear ma, how tired you look.'

"'I am not tired, dear.'

"'Well, you don't look well; is anything the matter with you?'

"'I didn't say I wasn't well, and it's very rude to remark on one's
looks that way.'

"'Something seems to have put you out of sorts, ma, I will run and
call pa. Dear me, I feel frightened. Shall I ask Mrs Bawdon for her
salts?'

"'You know very well what's the matter; it's Captain De la Cour.'

"'Well, now, how strange,' said Sarah Matilda. 'I told him he had
better go and walk with you; I wanted him to do it; I told him you
liked attention. Yes, I knew you would be angry, but it isn't my
fault. It ain't, indeed.'

"'Well, I am astonished,' replies the horrified mother. 'I never in
all my life. So you told him I liked attention. I, your mother, your
father's wife, with my position in societee; and pray what answer did
he make to this strange conduct?'

"'He said, No wonder, you were the handsomest woman in town, and so
agreeable; the only one fit to talk to.'

"'And you have the face to admit you listened to such stuff?'

"'I could listen all day to it, ma, for I knew it was true. I never
saw you look so lovely, the new bishop has improved your appearance
amazingly.'

"'Who?' said the mother, with an hysterical scream; 'what do you
mean?'

"'The new bustler, ma.'

"'Oh,' said she, quite relieved, 'oh, do you think so?'

"'But what did you want of me, ma?'

"'To fasten my gown, dear, there is a hook come undone.'

"'Coming,' she said, in a loud voice.

"There was nobody calling, but somebody ought to have called; so she
fastens the hook, and flies back as fast as she came.

"Sarah Matilda, you were not born yesterday; first you put your mother
on the defensive, and then you stroked her down with the grain, and
made her feel good all over, while you escaped from a scolding you
know you deserved. A jealous mother makes an artful daughter. But,
Sarah Matilda, one word in your ear. Art ain't cleverness, and cunning
ain't understanding. Semblance only answers once; the second time the
door ain't opened to it.

"Henrietta is all adrift, too; she is an old maid, and Di nicknamed
her 'the old hen.' She has been shamefully neglected today. The young
men have been flirting about with those forward young
girls--children--mere children, and have not had the civility to
exchange a word with her. The old ladies have been whispering gossip
all day, and the old gentlemen busy talking about freights, the
Fall-catch of mackarel, and ship-building. Nor could their talk have
been solely confined to these subjects, for once when she approached
them, she heard the head of the firm say:

"'The 'lovely lass' must be thrown down and scraped, for she is so
foul, and her knees are all gone.'

"And so she turned away in disgust. Catch her at a pic-nic again! No,
never! It appears the world is changed; girls in her day were never
allowed to romp that way, and men used to have some manners. Things
have come to a pretty pass!

"'Alida, is that you, dear? You look dull.'

"'Oh, Henrietta! I have torn my beautiful thread-lace mantilla all to
rags; it's ruined for ever. And do you know--oh, I don't know how I
shall ever dare to face ma again! I have lost her beautiful little
enamelled watch. Some of these horrid branches have pulled it off the
chain.' And Alida cries and is consoled by Henrietta, who is a
good-natured creature after all. She tells her for her comfort that
nobody should ever think of wearing a delicate and expensive lace
mantilla in the woods; she could not expect anything else than to have
it destroyed; and as for exposing a beautiful gold watch outside of
her dress, nobody in her senses would have thought of such a thing. Of
course she was greatly comforted: kind words and a kind manner will
console any one.

"It is time now to re-assemble, and the party are gathered once more;
and the ladies have found their smiles again, and Alida has found her
watch; and there are to be some toasts and some songs before parting.
All is jollity once more, and the head of the firm and his vigilant
partner and the officers have all a drop in their eye, and Henrietta
is addressed by the junior partner, who is a bachelor of about her own
age, and who assures her he never saw her look better; and she looks
delighted, and is delighted, and thinks a pic-nic not so bad a thing
after all.

"But there is a retributive justice in this world. Even pic-nic
parties have their moral, and folly itself affords an example from
which a wise saw may be extracted. Captain de Courlay addresses her,
and after all, he has the manners and appearance of a gentleman,
though it is whispered he is fond of practical jokes, pulls 'colt
ensigns' out of bed, makes them go through their sword exercise
standing shirtless in their tubs, and so on. There is one redeeming
thing in the story, if it be true, he never was known to do it to a
young nobleman; he is too well bred for that. He talks to her of
society as it was before good-breeding was reformed out of the
colonies. She is delighted; but, oh! was it stupidity, or was it
insolence, or was it cruelty? he asked her if she recollected the Duke
of Kent. To be sure it is only fifty-two years since he was here; but
to have recollected him! How old did he suppose she was? She bears it
well and meekly. It is not the first time she has been painfully
reminded she was not young. She says her grandmother often spoke of
him as a good officer and a handsome man; and she laughs, though her
heart aches the while, as if it was a good joke to ask her. He backs
out as soon as he can. He meant well, though he had expressed himself
awkwardly; but to back out shows you are in the wrong stall, a place
you have no business in, and being out, he thinks it as well to jog on
to another place.

"Ah, Henrietta! you were unkind to Alida about her lace mantilla and
her gold watch, and it has come home to you. You ain't made of glass,
and nothing else will hold vinegar long without being corroded itself.

"Well, the toasts are drunk, and the men are not far from being drunk
too, and feats of agility are proposed, and they jump up and catch a
springing bow, and turn a somerset on it, or over it, and they are
cheered and applauded when De Courlay pauses in mid-air for a moment,
as if uncertain what to do. Has the bough given way, or was that the
sound of cloth rent in twain? Something has gone wrong, for he is
greeted with uproarious cheers by the men, and he drops on his feet,
and retires from the company as from the presence of royalty, by
backing out and bowing as he goes, repeatedly stumbling, and once or
twice falling in his retrograde motion.

"Ladies never lose their tact--they ask no questions because they see
something is amiss, and though it is hard to subdue curiosity,
propriety sometimes restrains it. They join in the general laugh
however, for it can be nothing serious where his friends make merry
with it. When he retires from view, his health is drank with three
times three. Di, who seemed to take pleasure in annoying the spinster,
said she had a great mind not to join in that toast, for he was a
loose fellow, otherwise he would have rent his heart and not his
garments. It is a pity a clever girl like her will let her tongue run
that way, for it leads them to say things they ought not. Wit in a
woman is a dangerous thing, like a doctor's lancet, it is apt to be
employed about matters that offend our delicacy, or hurt our
feelings."

"'What the devil is that?' said the head, of the firm, looking up, as
a few drops of rain fell. 'Why, here is a thunder-shower coming on us
as sure as the world. Come, let us pack up and be off.'

"And the servants are urged to be expeditious, and the sword-knots
tumble the glasses into the baskets, and the cold hams atop of them,
and break the decanters, to make them stow better, and the head of the
firm swears, and the sleeping partner says she will faint, she could
never abide thunder; and Di tells her if she does not want to abide
all night, she had better move, and a vivid flash of lightning gives
notice to quit, and tears and screams attest the notice is received,
and the retreat is commenced; but alas, the carriages are a mile and a
half off, and the tempest rages, and the rain falls in torrents, and
the thunder stuns them, and the lightning blinds them.

"'What's the use of hurrying?' says Di, 'we are now wet through, and
our clothes are spoiled, and I think we might take it leisurely.
Pistol, take my arm, I am not afraid of you now.'

"'Why?'

"'Your powder is wet, and you can't go off. You are quite harmless.
Target, you had better run.'

"'Why?'

"'You will be sure to be hit if you don't--won't he, Trigger?'

"But Pistol, and Target, and Trigger are alike silent. G soft has lost
his softness, and lets fall some hard terms. Every one holds down his
head, why, I can't understand, because being soaked, that attitude
can't dry them.

"'Uncle,' says Di, to the head of the firm, 'you appear to enjoy it,
you are buttoning up your coat as if you wanted to keep the rain in.'

"'I wish you would keep your tongue in,' he said, gruffly.

"'I came for a party of pleasure,' said the unconquerable girl, 'and I
think there is great fun in this. Hen, I feel sorry for you, you can't
stand the wet as those darling ducks can. Aunt will shake herself
directly, and be as dry as an India rubber model.'

"Aunt is angry, but can't answer--every clap of thunder makes her
scream. Sarah Matilda has lost her shoe, and the water has closed over
it, and she can't find it. 'Pistol, where is your corkscrew? draw it
out.'

"'It's all your fault,' sais the sleeping partner to the head of the
firm, 'I told you to bring the umbrellas.'

"'It's all yours,' retorts the afflicted husband, 'I told you these
things were all nonsense, and more trouble than they were worth.'

"'It's all Hen's fault,' said Di, 'for we came on purpose to bring her
out; she has never been at a pic-nic before, and it's holidays now.
Oh! the brook has risen, and the planks are gone, we shall have to
wade; Hen, ask those men to go before, I don't like them to see above
my ancles.'

"'Catch me at a pic-nic again,' said the terrified spinster.

"'You had better get home from this first, before you talk of
another,' sais Di.

"'Oh, Di, Di,' said Henrietta, 'how can you act so?'

"'You may say Di, Di, if you please, dear,' said the tormentor; 'but I
never say die--and never will while there is life in me. Letty, will
you go to the ball to-night? we shall catch cold if we don't; for we
have two miles more of the rain to endure in the open carriages before
we reach the steamer, and we shall be chilled when we cease walking.'

"But Letty can do nothing but cry, as if she wasn't wet enough
already.

"'Good gracious!' sais the head of the house, 'the horses have
overturned the carriage, broke the pole, and run away.'

"'What's the upset price of it, I wonder?' sais Di, 'the horses will
make 'their election sure;' they are at the 'head of the pole, they
are returned and they have left no trace behind.' I wish they had
taken the rain with them also.'

"'It's a pity you wouldn't rein your tongue in also,' said the
fractious uncle.

"'Well, I will, Nunky, if you will restrain your choler. De Courcy,
the horses are off at a 'smashing pace;' G soft, it's all dickey with
us now, ain't it? But that milk-sop, Russel, is making a noise in his
boots, as if he was 'churning butter.' Well, I never enjoyed anything
so much as this in my life; I do wish the Mudges had been here, it is
the only thing wanting to make this pic-nic perfect. What do you say,
Target?'

"But Target don't answer, he only mutters between his teeth something
that sounds like, 'what a devil that girl is!' Nobody minds teasing
now; their tempers are subdued, and they are dull, weary, and
silent--dissatisfied with themselves, with each other, and the day of
pleasure.

"How could it be otherwise? It is a thing they didn't understand, and
had no taste for. They took a deal of trouble to get away from the
main road as far as possible; they never penetrated farther into the
forest than to obtain a shade, and there eat an uncomfortable cold
dinner, sitting on the ground, had an ill-assorted party, provided no
amusements, were thoroughly bored, and drenched to the skin--and this
some people call a day in the bush.

"There is an old proverb, that has a hidden meaning in it, that is
applicable to this sort of thing--'As a man calleth in the woods, so
it shall be answered to him.'"



CHAPTER XVI.

THE WORLD BEFORE THE FLOOD.


We made another attempt at walking on the deck--the moon was trying to
struggle through the fog, which was now of a bright copper colour.

"Doctor," said I, "have you ever seen a yellow fog before?"

"Yes," he said, "I have seen a white, black, red, and yellow fog," and
went off into a disquisition about optics, mediums, reflections,
refractions, and all sorts of scientific terms.

Well, I don't like hard words; when you crack them, which is plaguy
tough work, you have to pick the kernel out with a cambric needle, and
unless it's soaked in wine, like the heart of a hickory nut is, it
don't taste nice, and don't pay you for the trouble. So to change the
subject, "Doctor," sais I, "how long is this everlasting mullatto
lookin' fog a goin' to last, for it ain't white, and it ain't black,
but kind of betwixt and between."

Sais he, and he stopped and listened a moment, "It will be gone by
twelve o'clock to-night."

"What makes you think so?" said I.

"Do you hear that?" said he.

"Yes," sais I, "I do; it's children a playin' and a chatterin' in
French. Now it's nateral they should talk French, seein' their parents
do. They call it their mother-tongue, for old wives are like old
hosses, they are all tongue, and when their teeth is gone, that unruly
member grows thicker and bigger, for it has a larger bed to stretch
out in,--not that it ever sleeps much, but it has a larger sphere of
action,--do you take? I don't know whether you have had this feeling
of surprise, Doctor, but I have, hearing those little imps talk
French, when, to save my soul, I can't jabber it that way myself. In
course of nature they must talk that lingo, for they are quilted in
French--kissed in French--fed in French--and put to bed in
French,--and told to pray to the Virgin in French, for that's the
language she loves best. She knows a great many languages, but she
can't speak English since Henry the Eighth's time, when she said to
him, 'You be fiddled,' which meant, the Scotch should come with their
fiddles and rule England.

"Still somehow I feel strange when these little critters address me in
it, or when women use it to me (tho' I don't mind that so much, for
there are certain freemason signs the fair sex understand all over the
world), but the men puzzle me like Old Scratch, and I often say to
myself, What a pity it is the critters can't speak English. I never
pity myself for not being able to jabber French, but I blush for their
ignorance. However, all this is neither here nor there. Now, Doctor,
how can you tell this fog is booked for the twelve o'clock train? Is
there a Bradshaw for weather?"

"Yes," said he, "there is, do you hear that?"

"I don't hear nothing," sais I, "but two Frenchmen ashore a jawing
like mad. One darsen't, and t'other is afraid to fight, so they are
taking it out in gab--they ain't worth listening to. How do they tell
you the weather?"

"Oh," said he, "it ain't them. Do you hear the falls at my lake? the
west wind brings that to us. When I am there and the rote is on the
beach, it tells me it is the voice of the south wind giving notice of
rain. All nature warns me. The swallow, the pig, the goose, the fire
on the hearth, the soot in the flue, the smoke of the chimney, the
rising and setting sun, the white frost, the stars--all, all tell me."

"Yes," sais I, "when I am to home I know all them signs."

"The spider too is my guide, and the ant also. But the little
pimpernel, the poor man's weather-glass, and the convolvulus are truer
than any barometer, and a glass of water never lies."

"Ah, Doctor," said I, "you and I read and study the same book. I don't
mean to assert we are, as Sorrow says, nateral children, but we are
both children of nature, and honour our parents. I agree with you
about the fog, but I wanted to see if you could answer signals with
me. I am so glad you have come on board. You want amusement, I want
instruction. I will swap stories with you for bits of your wisdom, and
as you won't take boot, I shall be a great gainer."

After a good deal of such conversation, we went below, and in due
season turned in, in a place where true comfort consists in oblivion.
The morning, as the doctor predicted, was clear, the fog was gone, and
the little French village lay before us in all the beauty of ugliness.
The houses were small, unpainted, and uninviting. Fish-flakes were
spread on the beach, and the women were busy in turning the cod upon
them. Boats were leaving the shore for the fishing-ground. Each of
these was manned by two or three or four hands, who made as much noise
as if they were getting a vessel under weigh, and were severally
giving orders to each other with a rapidity of utterance that no
people but Frenchmen are capable of.