The Singing Fire

Lilian Nattel, the acclaimed author of The River Midnight, masterfully brings to life a vanished world—the lanes boiling with the steam from kettles of laundry, the smokestacks belching coal dust, the chatter of tailors, piemen and thieves. This is where Nehama arrives with her dreams of independence, not realizing the dangers that a girl on her own must face. Tricked into prostitution, she escapes into the alleys of the East End, where bustling market stalls and penny seats at the theater are just a second away from the criminal warrens. In the Jewish ghetto Nehama makes a new life, remembering the lessons of the street to help another runaway, Emilia, pregnant and unwed. But Emilia refuses to live a hard life and, relinquishing her baby to Nehama, she re-creates herself in the chic streets of the West End. With stunningly vivid prose Nattel intertwines the stories of these two women, writing of the chaos of this rich city life, and beautifully rendering the courage of mothers and sisters navigating dangerous realms.

In fourteen short biographies Faith Cook brings home the reality of the faith which carries Christians victoriously through trials.

This is a unique, groundbreaking collection of autobiographical essays by leading women in philosophy. It provides a glimpse at the experiences of the generation that witnessed, and helped create, the remarkable advances now evident for women in the field.

Constant chills, panic attacks, and now paranoia ? there's a reason seventeen-year-old Charlie keeps to herself.Life is looking up when she gets a job at a whimsical tea shop and gains a few new friends, but little does Charlie know there are secrets lurking beyond its door.It only takes one night for her perspective on her small town to change forever. As if witches, vampires, and demons weren't enough, she soon realizes she's being hunted for a power she didn't know she possessed.Singing Fire takes Charlie through an unexpected journey of self-discovery, betrayal, and forbidden love all while the clock is ticking for her to defeat the dark souls pursuing her ? before anyone else dear to her has to die.

Profile of the Singing Pines This is a fictional story of the removal of white pine logs in the Parry Sound District during the years after World War I. It tells of life in the rugged, primitive logging camps of this early time and of the hardships the loggers dealt with to remove these mighty trees. There are many trials and difficulties that the people become involved with during the removal of the pine. The story deals with accidental death, seduction, natural and man-made tragedies. It has murder, sickness, and changes made to the district as the towns and villages grew and prospered during the 1920s. It focuses on Fran Killworthy, a young widow who struggles to have her son, Abner, grow into manhood.

The Quechua people, the "singing mountaineers" of Peru, still sing the songs that their Inca ancestors knew before the Spaniards invaded the Andes. Some of these songs, collected and translated into Spanish by José María Arguedas and María Lourdes Valladares from the Quechua language and the Huanca dialect, are now presented for the first time in English in the beautiful translations of Ruth Stephan, author of the recent prize-winning novel, The Flight. Also included in this rich collection are nine folk tales collected by Father Jorge A. Lira, translated into Spanish by Sr. Arguedas, and into English by Kate and Angel Flores.

We live in an age of vast and rapid destruction of habitats and species. Yet Christianity holds great potential for healing this situation. Indeed, the Bible and Christian tradition are a treasure trove of rich images and stories about God as an "earthen" being who sustains the natural world with compassion and thereby models for humankind environmentally healthy ways of being.Mark Wallace's stimulating book retrieves a central but often neglected biblical theme - the idea of God as carnal Spirit who indwells all things - as the basis for constructing a "green spirituality" responsive to the environmental needs of our time.In the biblical tradition, he writes, God as Spirit is an ecological presence that shows itself to us daily by living in and through the earth. One message of Christianity, therefore, is celebration of the bodily, material world - ancient redwoods, vernal springs, broad-winged hawks, everyday pigweed - as the place that God indwells and cares for in order to maintain the well-being of our common planetary home.Alongside his green reading of the Bible and tradition, Wallace employs the resources of deep ecology, Neopagan spirituality, and the environmental justice movement to rethink Christianity as an earth-based, body-loving religion. He also analyzes color images reproduced in the book. Wallace's bold yet careful work reawakens our sense of the sacrality of the earth and the life that the trinitarian God creates there. It also grounds the impulses of New Age spirituality in a profoundly biblical notion of God's being and activity.

Back again, now, by some impulse of the dog which hasn’t had any day. It is winter now, I remember, Singing Mouse, and I am walking by the shore of the great Inland Seas. There is snow on the ground. The trees look black in contrast as you gaze up from the beach against the high bank. It is cold. It is dark. There is a shiver in the air. There are icicles in the sky. Something is flying through the trees, but silent as if it came out of a grave. I have been walking, I know. I have walked a million miles, and I’m tired. My legs are stiff, and my legging has frozen fast to my overshoe; I remember that. And so I sit down—right here, you know—and look out over the lake—just over there, you see. The ice reaches out from the shore into the lake a long way; and it is covered with snow, and looks white. I can follow that white glimmer in a long, long curve to the right—twenty miles or more, maybe. Yes, it is cold. But ah! what is that out there, and what is it doing? It is setting all the long white curves of ice afire. It is throwing down hammered silver in a broad path, out there on the water. Those are not ripples. That is silver! There will be angels walking on that pathway before long! That is not the moon coming up over the lake! It is the swinging open, by some careless angel’s mischance, of the door of the White City of Rest!... How old, how sore a man climbed up the steep bank! There were white fields. In the distance a dog barked. Away across the fields a bright and cheery light shone out from a window, and as the moon rose higher, it showed the house which held the light. It was not a large house, but it seemed to be a home. Home!—what is that? I wondered; and I remember that I pulled at the frozen legging, and moved, with pain, the limbs grown tired and sore.