John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1600 02"

Tom Taylor - "Our American Cousin"

Will Levington Comfort - "Red Fleece"

Jean de La Fontaine - "The Tales and Novels, v7: The Falcon and The Little Dog"

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




"'I once asked an Indian where he lived, I meant of course where his
camp was, but the question was too broad, and puzzled him. Stretching
out his arm and describing a circle with his heel, he said, 'I live in
all these woods!' Like him, I live in all this world. Those who, like
the English and Americans, have appropriated so large a portion of it
to themselves, may severally boast, if they think proper, of their
respective governments and territories. My boast, Sir, is a peculiar
one, that I have nothing to boast of.'

"'If such are your views,' I said, 'I must say, I do not understand
that absurd act of firing your parliament house. It is, I assure you,
reprobated everywhere. Our folks say your party commenced as old
Hunkers1 and ended as Barnburners.'


1 "We have been requested to give a definition of this term, 'Old
Hunkers.' Party nicknames are not often logically justified; and we
can only say that that section of the late dominant party in this
State (the democratic) which claims to be the more radical,
progressive, reformatory, &c., bestowed the appellation of 'Old
Hunker' on the other section, to indicate that it was distinguished by
opposite qualities from those claimed for itself. We believe the title
was also intended to indicate that those on whom it was conferred had
an appetite for a large 'hunk' of the spoils, though we never could
discover that they were peculiar in that. On the other hand, the
opposite school was termed 'Barnburners,' in allusion to the story of
an old Dutchman, who relieved himself of rats by burning his barns,
which they infested--just like exterminating all banks and
corporations to root out the abuses connected therewith. The fitness
or unfitness of these family terms of endearment is none of our
business."--NEW YORK TRIBUNE.


"That remark threw him off his guard; he rose up greatly agitated; his
eyes flashed fire, and he extended out his arm as if he intended by
gesticulation to give full force to what he was about to say. He stood
in this attitude for a moment without uttering a word, when by a
sudden effort he mastered himself, and took up his hat to walk out on
the terrace and recover his composure.

"As he reached the door, he turned, and said:

"'The assenting to that infamous indemnity act, Mr Slick, and the
still more disreputable manner in which it received the gubernational
sanction, has produced an impression in Canada that no loyal man--'
but he again checked himself, and left the sentence unfinished.

"I was sorry I had pushed him so hard, but the way he tried to evade
the subject at first, the bitterness of his tone, and the excitement
into which the allusion threw him, convinced me that the English
neither know who their real friends in Canada are, nor how to retain
their affections.

"When he returned, I said to him, 'I was only jesting about your
having no grievances in Canada, and I regret having agitated you. I
agree with you however that it is of no use to remonstrate with the
English public. They won't listen to you. If you want to be heard,
attract their attention, in the first instance, by talking of their
own immediate concerns, and while they are regarding you with intense
interest and anxiety, by a sleight of hand shift the dissolving view,
and substitute a sketch of your own. For instance, says you, 'How is
it the army in the Crimea had no tents in the autumn, and no huts in
the winter--the hospitals no fittings, and the doctors no nurses or
medicines? How is it disease and neglect have killed more men than the
enemy? Why is England the laughing-stock of Russia, and the butt of
French and Yankee ridicule? and how does it happen this country is
filled with grief and humiliation from one end of it to the other? I
will tell you. These affairs were managed by a branch of the Colonial
Office. The minister for that department said to the army, as he did
to the distant provinces, 'Manage your own affairs, and don't bother
us.' Then pause and say, slowly and emphatically, 'You now have a
taste of what we have endured in the colonies. The same incompetency
has ruled over both.'"

"'Good heavens,' said he, 'Mr Slick. I wish you was one of us.'

"'Thank you for the compliment.' sais I. 'I feel flattered, I assure
you; but, excuse me. I have no such ambition. I am content to be a
humble Yankee clockmaker. A Colonial Office, in which there is not a
single man that ever saw a colony, is not exactly the government to
suit me. The moment I found my master knew less than I did, I quit his
school and set up for myself.'

'Yes, my friend, the English want to have the mirror held up to them;
but that is your business and not mine. It would be out of place for
me. I am a Yankee, and politics are not my line; I have no turn for
them, and I don't think I have the requisite knowledge of the subject
for discussing it; but you have both, and I wonder you don't.

"Now, Doctor, you may judge from that conversation, and the deep
feeling it exhibits, that men's thoughts are wandering in new
channels. The great thing for a statesman is to direct them to the
right one. I have said there were three courses to be considered;
first, incorporation with England; secondly, independence; thirdly,
annexation. The subject is too large for a quarter-deck walk, so I
will only say a few words more. Let's begin with annexation first. The
thinking, reflecting people among us don't want these provinces. We
guess we are big enough already, and nothing but our great rivers,
canals, railroads, and telegraphs (which, like skewers in a round of
beef, fasten the unwieldy mass together) could possibly keep us
united. Without them we should fall to pieces in no time. It's as much
as they can keep all tight and snug now; but them skewers nor no
others can tie a greater bulk than we have. Well, I don't think
colonists want to be swamped in our vast republic either. So there
ain't no great danger from that, unless the devil gits into us both,
which, if a favourable chance offered, he is not onlikely to do. So
let that pass. Secondly, as to incorporation. That is a grand idea,
but it is almost too grand for John Bull's head, and a little grain
too large for his pride. There are difficulties, and serious ones, in
the way. It would require participation in the legislature, which
would involve knocking off some of the Irish brigade to make room for
your members; and there would be a hurrush at that, as O'Connell used
to say, that would bang Banaghar. It would also involve an invasion of
the upper house, for colonists won't take half a loaf now, I tell you;
which would make some o' those gouty old lords fly round and scream
like Mother Cary's chickens in a gale of wind; and then there would be
the story of the national debt, and a participation in imperial taxes
to adjust, and so on; but none of these difficulties are insuperable.

"A statesman with a clever head, a sound judgment, and a good heart,
could adjust a scheme that would satisfy all; at least it would
satisfy colonists by its justice, and reconcile the peers and the
people of England by its expediency, for the day Great Britain parts
with these colonies, depend upon it, she descends in the scale of
nations most rapidly. India she may lose any day, for it is a
government of opinion only. Australia will emancipate itself ere long,
but these provinces she may and ought to retain.

"Thirdly, independence. This is better for her than annexation by a
long chalk, and better for the colonies too, if I was allowed to spend
my opinion on it; but if that is decided upon, something must be done
soon. The way ought to be prepared for it by an immediate federative
and legislative union of them all. It is of no use to consult their
governors, they don't and they can't know anything of the country but
its roads, lakes, rivers, and towns; but of the people they know
nothing whatever. You might as well ask the steeple of a wooden church
whether the sill that rests on the stone foundation is sound. They are
too big according to their own absurd notions, too small in the eyes
of colonists, and too far removed and unbending to know anything about
it. What can a man learn in five years except the painful fact, that
he knew nothing when he came, and knows as little when he leaves? He
can form a better estimate of himself than when he landed, and returns
a humbler, but not a wiser man; but that's all his schoolin' ends in.
No, Sirree, it's only men like you and me who know the ins and outs of
the people here."

"Don't say me," said the doctor, "for goodness' sake, for I know
nothing about the inhabitants of these woods and waters, but the
birds, the fish, and the beasts."

"Don't you include politicians," said I, "of all shades and colours,
under the last genus? because I do, they are regular beasts of prey."

Well, he laughed; he said he didn't know nothing about them.

"Well," sais I, "I ain't so modest, I can tell you, for I do know. I
am a clockmaker, and understand machinery. I know all about the
wheels, pulleys, pendulum, balances, and so on, the length of the
chain, and what is best of all, the way to wind 'em up, set 'em a
going, and make 'em keep time. Now, Doctor, I'll tell you what neither
the English nor the Yankees, nor the colonists themselves, know
anything of, and that is about the extent and importance of these
North American provinces under British rule. Take your pencil now, and
write down a few facts I will give you, and when you are alone
meditating, just chew on 'em.

"First--there are four millions of square miles of territory in them,
whereas all Europe has but three millions some odd hundred thousands,
and our almighty, everlastin' United States still less than that
again. Canada alone is equal in size to Great Britain, France, and
Prussia. The maritime provinces themselves cover a space as large as
Holland, Belgium, Greece, Portugal, and Switzerland, all put together.
The imports for 1853 were between ten and eleven millions, and the
exports (ships sold included) between nine and ten millions. At the
commencement of the American Revolution, when we first dared the
English to fight us, we had but two and a half, these provinces now
contain nearly three, and in half a century will reach the enormous
amount of eighteen millions of inhabitants. The increase of population
in the States is thirty-three per cent., in Canada sixty-eight. The
united revenue is nearly a million and a half, and their shipping
amounts to four hundred and fifty thousand tons.

"Now, take these facts and see what an empire is here, surely the best
in climate, soil, mineral, and other productions in the world, and
peopled by such a race as no other country under heaven can produce.
No, Sir, here are the bundle of sticks, all they want is to be well
united. How absurd it seems to us Yankees that England is both so
ignorant and so blind to her own interests, as not to give her
attention to this interesting portion of the empire, that in natural
and commercial wealth is of infinitely more importance than half a
dozen Wallachias and Moldavias, and in loyalty, intelligence, and
enterprise, as far superior to turbulent Ireland as it is possible for
one country to surpass another. However, Doctor, it's no affair of
mine. I hate politics, and I hate talking figures. Sposin' we try a
cigar, and some white satin."



CHAPTER XX.

TOWN AND COUNTRY.


"Doctor," sais I, as we ascended the deck the following morning, "I
can't tell you how I have enjoyed these incidental runs on shore I
have had during my cruise in the 'Black Hawk.' I am amazin' fond of
the country, and bein' an early riser, I manage to lose none of its
charms. I like to see the early streak in the east, and look on the
glorious sky when the sun rises. I like everything about the country,
and the people that live in it. The town is artificial, the country is
natural. Whoever sees the peep of the morning in the city but a drowsy
watchman, who waits for it to go to his bed? a nurse, that is counting
the heavy hours, and longs to put out the unsnuffed candles, and take
a cup of strong tea to keep her peepers open; or some houseless
wretch, that is woke up from his nap on a door-step, by a punch in the
ribs from the staff of a policeman, who begrudges the misfortunate
critter a luxury he is deprived of himself, and asks him what he is a
doin' of there, as if he didn't know he had nothin' to do nowhere, and
tells him to mizzle off home, as if he took pleasure in reminding him
he had none. Duty petrifies these critters' hearts harder than the
grand marble porch stone that served for a couch, or the doorstep that
was used for a pillow. Even the dogs turn in then, for they don't
think it's necessary to mount guard any longer. Blinds and curtains
are all down, and every livin' critter is asleep, breathing the nasty,
hot, confined, unwholesome air of their bed-rooms, instead of inhaling
the cool dewy breeze of heaven.

"Is it any wonder that the galls are thin, and pale, and delicate, and
are so languid, they look as if they were givin' themselves airs, when
all they want is air? or that the men complain of dyspepsy, and look
hollow and unhealthy, having neither cheeks, stomach, nor thighs, and
have to take bitters to get an appetite for their food, and pickles
and red pepper to digest it? The sun is up, and has performed the
first stage of his journey before the maid turns out, opens the front
door, and takes a look up and down street, to see who is a stirrin'.
Early risin' must be cheerfulsome, for she is very chipper, and throws
some orange-peel at the shopman of their next neighbour, as a hint if
he was to chase her, he would catch her behind the hall-door, as he
did yesterday, after which she would show him into the supper-room,
where the liquors and cakes are still standing as they were left last
night.

"Yes, she is right to hide, for it is decent, if it ain't modest,
seein' the way she has jumped into her clothes, and the danger there
is of jumping out of them again. How can it be otherwise, when she has
to get up so horrid early? It's all the fault of the vile milkman, who
will come for fear his milk will get sour; and that beast, the iceman,
who won't wait, for fear his ice will melt; and that stupid nigger who
will brush the shoes then, he has so many to clean elsewhere.

"As she stands there, a woman ascends the step, and produces a basket
from under her cloak, into which she looks carefully, examines its
contents (some lace frills, tippets, and collars of her mistress,
which she wore a few nights ago at a ball), and returns with something
heavy in it, for the arm is extended in carrying it, and the stranger
disappears. She still lingers, she is expecting some one. It is the
postman, he gives her three or four letters, one of which is for
herself. She reads it approvingly, and then carefully puts it into her
bosom, but that won't retain it no how she can fix it, so she shifts
it to her pocket. It is manifest Posty carries a verbal answer, for
she talks very earnestly to him, and shakes hands with him at parting
most cordially.

"It must be her turn for a ball to-night I reckon, for a carriage
drives very rapidly to within three or four hundred yards of the
house, and then crawls to the door so as not to disturb the family. A
very fashionably-dressed maid is there (her mistress must be very kind
to lend her such expensive head-gear, splendid jewelry, and costly and
elegant toggery), and her beau is there with such a handsome moustache
and becoming beard, and an exquisitely-worked chain that winds six or
seven times round him, and hangs loose over his waistcoat, like a coil
of golden cord. At a given signal, from the boss of the hack, who
stands door in hand, the young lady gathers her clothes well up her
drumsticks, and would you believe, two steps or springs only, like
those of a kangaroo, take her into the house? It's a streak of light,
and nothing more. It's lucky she is thin, for fat tames every critter
that is foolish enough to wear it, and spoils agility.

"The beau takes it more leisurely. There are two epochs in a critter's
life of intense happiness, first when he doffs the petticoats,
pantellets, the hermaphrodite rig of a child, and mounts the jacket
and trowsers of a boy; and the other is when that gives way to a 'long
tail blue,' and a beard. He is then a man.

"The beau has reached this enviable age, and as he is full of
admiration of himself, is generous enough to allow time to others to
feast their eyes on him. So he takes it leisurely, his character, like
that charming girl's, won't suffer if it is known they return with the
cats in the morning; on the contrary, women, as they always do, the
little fools, will think more of him. They make no allowance for one
of their own sex, but they are very indulgent, indeed they are both
blind and deaf, to the errors of the other. The fact is, if I didn't
know it was only vindicating the honour of their sex, I vow I should
think it was all envy of the gall who was so lucky, as to be unlucky;
but I know better than that. If the owner of the house should be
foolish enough to be up so early, or entirely take leave of his
senses, and ask him why he was mousing about there, he flatters
himself he is just the child to kick him. Indeed he feels inclined to
flap his wings and crow. He is very proud. Celestina is in love with
him, and tells him (but he knew that before) he is very handsome. He
is a man, he has a beard as black as the ace of spades, is full
dressed, and the world is before him. He thrashed a watchman last
night, and now he has a drop in his eye, would fight the devil. He has
succeeded in deceiving that gall, he has no more idea of marrying her
than I have. It shows his power. He would give a dollar to crow, but
suffers himself to be gently pushed out of the hall, and the door
fastened behind him, amid such endearing expressions, that they would
turn a fellow's head, even after his hair had grown gray. He then
lights a cigar, gets up with the driver, and looks round with an air
of triumph, as much as to say--'What would you give to be admired and
as successful as I am?' and when he turns the next corner, he does
actilly crow.

"Yes, yes, when the cat's away, the mice will play. Things ain't in a
mess, and that house a hurrah's nest, is it? Time wears on, and the
alternate gall must be a movin' now, for the other who was at the ball
has gone to bed, and intends to have her by-daily head-ache if
inquired for. To-night it will be her turn to dance, and to-morrow to
sleep, so she cuts round considerable smart. Poor thing, the time is
not far off when you will go to bed and not sleep, but it's only the
child that burns its fingers that dreads the fire. In the mean time,
set things to rights.

"The curtains are looped up, and the shutters folded back into the
wall, and the rooms are sprinkled with tea-leaves, which are lightly
swept up, and the dust left behind, where it ought to be, on the
carpet,--that's all the use there is of a carpet, except you have got
corns. And then the Venetians are let down to darken the rooms, and
the windows are kept closed to keep out the flies, the dust, and the
heat, and the flowers brought in and placed in the stands. And there
is a beautiful temperature in the parlour, for it is the same air that
was there a fortnight before. It is so hot, when the young ladies come
down to breakfast, they can't eat, so they take nothing but a plate of
buck-wheat cakes, and another of hot buttered rolls, a dozen of
oysters, a pot of preserves, a cup of honey, and a few ears of Indian
corn. They can't abide meat, it's too solid and heavy. It's so horrid
warm it's impossible they can have an appetite, and even that little
trifle makes them feel dyspeptic. They'll starve soon; what can be the
matter? A glass of cool ginger pop, with ice, would be refreshing, and
soda water is still better, it is too early for wine, and at any rate
it's heating, besides being unscriptural.

"Well, the men look at their watches, and say they are in a hurry, and
must be off for their counting-houses like wink, so they bolt. What a
wonder it is the English common people call the stomach a
bread-basket, for it has no meanin' there. They should have called it
a meat-tray, for they are the boys for beef and mutton. But with us
it's the identical thing. They clear the table in no time, it's a
grand thing, for it saves the servants trouble. And a steak, and a
dish of chops, added to what the ladies had, is grand. The best way to
make a pie is to make it in the stomach. But flour fixins piping hot
is the best, and as their disgestion ain't good, it is better to try a
little of everything on table to see which best agrees with them. So
down goes the Johnny cakes, Indian flappers, Lucy Neals, Hoe
cakes--with toast, fine cookies, rice batter, Indian batter, Kentucky
batter, flannel cakes, and clam fritters. Super-superior fine flour is
the wholesomest thing in the world, and you can't have too much of it.
It's grand for pastry, and that is as light and as flakey as snow when
well made. How can it make paste inside of you and be wholesome? If
you would believe some Yankee doctors you'd think it would make the
stomach a regular glue pot. They pretend to tell you pap made of it
will kill a baby as dead as a herring. But doctors must have some
hidden thing to lay the blame of their ignorance on. Once when they
didn't know what was the matter of a child, they said it was water in
the brain, and now when it dies--oh, they say, the poor thing was
killed by that pastry flour. But they be hanged. How can the best of
anything that is good be bad? The only thing is to be sure a thing is
best, and then go a-head with it.

"Well, when the men get to their offices, they are half roasted alive,
and have to take ices to cool them, and then for fear the cold will
heat them, they have to take brandy cock-tail to counteract it. So
they keep up a sort of artificial fever and ague all day. The ice
gives the one, and brandy the other, like shuttlecock and battledore.
If they had walked down as they had ought to have done, in the cool of
the morning, they would have avoided all this.

"How different it is now in the country, ain't it? What a glorious
thing the sun-rise is! How beautiful the dew-spangled bushes, and the
pearly drops they shed, are! How sweet and cool is the morning air,
and how refreshing and bracing the light breeze is to the nerves that
have been relaxed in warm repose! The new-ploughed earth, the
snowy-headed clover, the wild flowers, the blooming trees, and the
balsamic spruce, all exhale their fragrance to invite you forth. While
the birds offer up their morning hymn, as if to proclaim that all
things praise the Lord. The lowing herd remind you that they have kept
their appointed time; and the freshening breezes, as they swell in the
forest and awaken the sleeping leaves, seem to whisper, 'We too come
with healing on our wings;' and the babbling brook, that it also has
its mission to minister to your wants. Oh, morning in the country is a
glorious thing, and it is impossible when one rises and walks forth
and surveys the scene not to exclaim, 'God is good.'

"Oh, that early hour has health, vigour, and cheerfulness in it. How
natural it seems to me, how familiar I am with everything it
indicates! The dew tells me there will be no showers, the white frost
warns me of its approach; and if that does not arrive in time, the sun
instructs me to notice and remember, that if it rises bright and clear
and soon disappears in a cloud, I must prepare for heavy rain. The
birds and the animals all, all say, 'We too are cared for, and we have
our foreknowledge, which we disclose by our conduct to you." The
brooks too have meaning in their voices, and the southern sentinel
proclaims aloud, 'Prepare.' And the western, 'All is well.'"

Oh, how well I know the face of nature! What pleasure I take as I
commence my journey at this hour, to witness the rising of the mist in
the autumn from the low grounds, and its pausing on the hill-tops, as
if regretting the scene it was about to leave! And how I admire the
little insect webs, that are spangled over the field at that time; and
the partridge warming itself in the first gleam of sunshine it can
discover on the road! The alder, as I descend into the glen, gives me
notice that the first frost has visited him, as it always does, before
others, to warn him that it has arrived to claim every leaf of the
forest as its own. Oh, the country is the place for peace, health,
beauty, and innocence. I love it, I was born in it. I lived the
greater part of my life there, and I look forward to die in it.

"How different from town life is that of the country! There are duties
to be performed in-door and out-door, and the inmates assemble round
their breakfast-table, refreshed by sleep and invigorated by the cool
air, partake of their simple, plain, and substantial meal, with the
relish of health, cheerfulness, and appetite. The open window admits
the fresh breeze, in happy ignorance of dust, noise, or fashionable
darkness. The verandah defies rain or noon-day sun, and employment
affords no room for complaint that the day is hot, the weather
oppressive, the nerves weak, or the digestion enfeebled. There can be
no happiness where there is an alternation of listlessness and
excitement. They are the two extremes between which it resides, and
that locality to my mind is the country. Care, disease, sorrow, and
disappointment are common to both. They are the lot of humanity; but
the children of mammon, and of God, bear them differently.