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We and the World: A Book for Boys. Part I by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
We and the World: A Book for Boys. Part I by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
"A friend in need is a friend indeed."-Old Proverb.
I have often thought that the biggest bit of good luck (and I was lucky), which befell me on my outset into the world, was that the man I sat next to in the railway carriage was not a rogue. I travelled third class to Liverpool for more than one reason-it was the cheapest way, besides which I did not wish to meet any family friends-and the man I speak of was a third-class passenger, and he went to Liverpool too.
At the time I was puzzled to think how he came to guess that I was running away, that I had money with me, and that I had never been to Liverpool before; but I can well imagine now how my ignorance and anxiety must have betrayed themselves at every station I mistook for the end of my journey, and with every question which I put, as I flattered myself, in the careless tones of common conversation, I really wonder I had not thought beforehand about my clothes, which fitted very badly on the character I assumed, and the company I chose; but it was not perhaps to be expected that I should know then, as I know now, how conspicuous all over me must have been the absence of those outward signs of hardship and poverty, which they who know poverty and hardship know so well.
I wish I had known them, because then I should have given the man some of my money when we parted, instead of feeling too delicate to do so. I can remember his face too well not to know now how much he must have needed it, and how heroic a virtue honesty must have been in him.
It did not seem to strike him as at all strange or unnatural that a lad of my age should be seeking his own fortune, but I feel sure that he thought it was misconduct on my part which had made me run away from home. I had no grievance to describe which he could recognize as grievous enough to drive me out into the world. However, I felt very glad that he saw no impossibility in my earning my own livelihood, or even anything very unusual in my situation.
"I suppose lots of young fellows run away from home and go to sea from a place like this?" said I, when we had reached Liverpool.
"And there's plenty more goes that has no homes to run from," replied he sententiously.
Prefacing each fresh counsel with the formula, "You'll excuse me," he gave me some excellent advice as we threaded the greasy streets, and jostled the disreputable-looking population of the lower part of the town. General counsels as to my conduct, and the desirableness of turning over a new leaf for "young chaps" who had been wild and got into scrapes at home. And particular counsels which were invaluable to me, as to changing my dress, how to hide my money, what to turn my hand to with the quickest chance of bread-winning in strange places, and how to keep my own affairs to myself among strange people.
It was in the greasiest street, and among the most disreputable-looking people, that we found the "slop-shop" where, by my friend's orders, I was to "rig out" in clothes befitting my new line of life. He went in first, so he did not see the qualm that seized me on the doorstep. A revulsion so violent that it nearly made me sick then and there; and if some one had seized me by the nape of my neck, and landed me straightway at my desk in Uncle Henry's office, would, I believe, have left me tamed for life. For if this unutterable vileness of sights and sounds and smells which hung around the dark entry of the slop shop were indeed the world, I felt a sudden and most vehement conviction that I would willingly renounce the world for ever. As it happened, I had not at that moment the choice. My friend had gone in, and I dared not stay among the people outside. I groped my way into the shop, which was so dark as well as dingy that they had lighted a small oil-lamp just above the head of the man who served out the slops. Even so the light that fell on him was dim and fitful, and was the means of giving me another start in which I gasped out-"Moses Benson!"
The man turned and smiled (he had the Jew-clerk's exact smile), and said softly,
"Cohen, my dear, not Benson."
And as he bent at another angle of the oil-lamp I saw that he was older than the clerk, and dirtier; and though his coat was quite curiously like the one I had so often cleaned, he had evidently either never met with the invaluable "scouring drops," or did not feel it worth while to make use of them in such a dingy hole.
One shock helped to cure the other. Come what might, I could not sneak back now to the civil congratulations of that other Moses, and the scorn of his eye. But I was so nervous that my fellow-traveller transacted my business for me, and when the oil-lamp flared and I caught Moses Cohen looking at me, I jumped as if Snuffy had come behind me. And when we got out (and it was no easy matter to escape from the various benevolent offers of the owner of the slop-shop), my friend said,
"You'll excuse me telling you, but whatever you do don't go near that there Jew again. He's no friend for a young chap like you."
"I should have got your slops cheaper," he added, "if I could have taken your clothes in without you."
My "slops" were a very loose suit of clothes made of much coarser material than my own, and I suppose they were called "slops" because they fitted in such a peculiarly sloppy manner. The whole "rig out" (it included a strong clasp-knife, and a little leathern bag to keep my money in, which I was instructed to carry round my neck) was provided by Mr. Cohen in exchange for the clothes I had been wearing before, with the addition of ten shillings in cash. I dipped again into the leathern bag to provide a meal for myself and my friend; then, by his advice, I put a shilling and some coppers into my pocket, that I might not have to bring out my purse in public, and with a few parting words of counsel he wrung my hand, and we parted-he towards some place of business where he hoped to get employment, and I in the direction of the docks, where the ships come and go.
"I hope you will get work," were my last words.
"The same to you, my lad," was his reply, and it seemed to acknowledge me as one of that big brotherhood of toilers who, when they want "something to do," want it not to pass time but to earn daily bread.
* * *
Mary's Meadow, and Other Tales of Fields and Flowers by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
Although Juliana Horatia Ewing certainly was not the first writer to pen tales specifically for younger audiences, critics regard her as one of the first to set aside the strong emphasis on morals and lessons that had long characterized the genre and focus more on developing realistic portraits of children that might ring true to her readers. This delightful collection of tales was her first published work.
Brothers of Pity and Other Tales of Beasts and Men by Juliana Horatia Gatty Ewing
Though this collection of novellas and short stories from English writer Juliana Horatia Ewing centers around younger protagonists, it will appeal to readers of any age. In the titular story, hero Charlie leads his family through the process of preparing to survive through the most calamitous of circumstances.
Everyone was shocked to the bones when the news of Rupert Benton's engagement broke out. It was surprising because the lucky girl was said to be a plain Jane, who grew up in the countryside and had nothing to her name. One evening, she showed up at a banquet, stunning everyone present. "Wow, she's so beautiful!" All the men drooled, and the women got so jealous. What they didn't know was that this so-called country girl was actually an heiress to a billion-dollar empire. It wasn't long before her secrets came to light one after the other. The elites couldn't stop talking about her. "Holy smokes! So, her father is the richest man in the world?" "She's also that excellent, but mysterious designer who many people adore! Who would have guessed?" Nonetheless, people thought that Rupert didn't love her. But they were in for another surprise. Rupert released a statement, silencing all the naysayers. "I'm very much in love with my beautiful fiancee. We will be getting married soon." Two questions were on everyone's minds: "Why did she hide her identity? And why was Rupert in love with her all of a sudden?"
"No, Alpha, please stop. You won't fit," Selena gasped, her eyes wide with fear as she stared at Alpha Zander's enormous member. "I don't have that much patience. Be a good Luna and give me an heir," Zander growled, his eyes dark with menacing intensity. He gripped her thighs-rough and hard-spreading her legs wide. With a single, forceful thrust, he breached her innocent barrier and slid deep into her slick heat. * They say marrying the Alpha King is a death sentence. They were right. No she-wolf in her right mind would volunteer to be his bride. Rumor has it, none of his brides lived long enough to even try. They say he's cursed. They say he's impotent. A monster who kills to keep his secret buried. But refusing him means your entire pack dies with you. So when the alliance reached Selena's pack, her father didn't hesitate. She was the useless daughter-the wolf-less one. The perfect offering to a king who only wanted a womb and silence. But Selena soon uncovers secrets far more terrifying than she ever could have imagined. And when the truth threatens everything, there's only one thing left to do: run. But can you ever run from the Alpha King? Especially when he's willing to cross hell and burn the world down just to claim what's his.
Hannah Rodriguez was fired from her place of work, and at the same time, she received a call from her lawyer that her husband had filed for a divorce. Heartbroken, she ran to her best friend's house to cry out her despair, but she unexpectedly saw her husband having sex with her best friend. Her mother-in-law had thrown her things out of the house. Having nowhere else to go, she was left on the street, where she was kidnapped and raped. Shamed and humiliated, she packed her stuff and left the country. Fast forward, five years later. Hannah is back with a set of Beautiful octuplets, ready to make the people who hurt her in the past pay for what they did to her, but what happened when a mysterious man came from nowhere, claiming he was the father of the octuplets? What happens when she finds out the man has a striking resemblance to her octuplets?
"Maverick, you never loved me all these years, did you?" "Be good. You're just a substitute." ___ Never did Valencia expect that what her crush thought of her was a substitute for another woman. And never did she expect that the asshole would break the news to her after she gave herself to him a night before their wedding. Unable to take in the heartbreak, Valencia fled on her wedding day. Fast-forward to five years later; Valencia is now the anonymous owner of a company and the diligent mother of smart-ass quadruplets who think mom is the best and shouldn't be stressed. And the most important thing: Mom needs a capable boyfriend. Someone dared to attack their mommy? Mom will face-slap, and if Mom can't, Quadruplet will! A certain shameless man: 'Darling, relax; I'll properly beat them up for you. After the beating, what do you think we should have next-a triplet or a sextuplet?' Valencia: "...." Smartass quadruplets: Didn't you consider Mom to be a substitute? Scram. We don't recognize you!
Sophie stepped in for her sister and married a man known for his disfigured looks and reckless past. On their wedding day, his family turned their backs on him, and the town laughed behind their hands, certain the marriage would collapse. But Sophie's career soared, and their love only deepened. Later, during a high-profile event, the CEO of some conglomerate took off his mask, revealing Sophie's husband to be a global sensation. *** Adrian had no interest in his arranged wife and had disguised himself in hopes she would bail. But when Sophie tried to walk away, Adrian broke down and whispered, "Please, Sophie, don't go. One kiss, and I'll give you the world."
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
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