The Jugglers, Classics To Go
Excerpt: "The lazy blue river and the wide, brown plains of Picardy lay basking in the still splendor of the November afternoon. The mysterious hush of the autumn lay upon the fields and the farmsteads. A flock of herons in a near-by marsh meditated gravely, standing one-legged, and watching the cows kneedeep in the muddy meadows. High in the sunny air, a vulture sailed, majestically evil, watching both the cows and the herons. The world was saying farewell softly to the sunny hours. The only sound that broke the deep silence was the steady trot of the big Normandy horses on the flinty towpath, as they drew a covered boat along the narrow and shallow stream, and the faint echo of the voices of five persons sitting[2] on the roof of the boat in the sunshine. The herons cocked their eyes toward the boat, and listened attentively, though they could not understand a word of these strange, noisy, laughing, weeping, fighting, dancing, talking creatures, called men and women. Sometimes, so the herons thought, these odd beings were a little kind; sometimes they were very cruel, but always they were formidable, and were masters of life and death. The great question under discussion on the roof of the boat was, where the theatrical company of jugglers and singers should spend the winter. Grandin, the proprietor of the show, a tall, handsome, boastful man, with a big voice like a church organ and a backbone made of brown paper, always gave his opinion first, but was generally overruled by Madame Grandin, also tall, handsome, easily wheedled or bullied, but inexorably truthful. Decisions really rested with the three subordinates, Diane Dorian, the prima donna, Jean Leroux, her partner, and the individual known as François le Bourgeois, juggler."
Molly Elliot Seawell
Molly Elliot Seawell (October 23, 1860 – November 15, 1916) was an early American historian and writer. Seawell was a descendant of the Seawells of Virginia. She was a niece of President John Tyler. Reared upon a large plantation, she was educated somewhat after her own way, "turned loose in a library of good books." In her father's home, was found the best literature of the 18th century. She read these English classics, and was especially fond of poetry. She did not read a novel until after she was 17, and the first was Goldsmith's The Vicar of Wakefield. Her three amusements were reading, riding and piano-playing. Her father, a prominent lawyer, died just as Seawell reached womanhood. She sent some stories to "Lippincott's Magazine." William S. Walsh was then editor, and he recognized the ability of the writer to be unusual, and encouraged her from the beginning. Her first stories were signed with a pen-name. Her friends persuaded her to sign her own name, but not until Maid Marian was published would she consent. This was undoubtedly her best story. She ventured into the field of juvenile literature when she sent Little Jarvis to "Youth's Companion" to contend for the US$500 prize. Possibly, Seawell's essay On the Absence of Creative Faculty in Women attracted more attention than any of her books. Women answered it, and the discussion was joined by Andrew Lang, Thomas Wentworth Higginson, and others. The Critic said that essay attracted more attention than any single article ever published in its columns. In style, Seawell was said to resemble Jane Austen. Seawell's works, besides numerous short stories, included: Young Heros of our Navy, Maid Marian and Other Stories, Midshipman Paulding, Hale Weston, Paul Jones, and The Midshipmen's Mess.
