| 2 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kate Clarendon, Or, Necromancy in the Wilderness  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | On the banks of the beautiful
Ohio, some five or six miles above
the large and flourishing city of
Cincinnati, can be seen the small
and pleasant village of Columbia,
once laid out and designed to become
the capital of the great West.
This village stands on a beautiful
plain, which stretches away from
the Ohio in a north-easterly direction,
between two ridges, for a
goodly number of miles, and at the
base of what is termed Bald Hill—
a hill of a conical shape, from the
summit whereof you can command
every point of compass, and some
of the most delightful views in the
western country. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 3 | Author: | Caruthers
William Alexander
1802-1846 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Towards the latter part of the summer of 18—,
on one of those cool, delightful, and invigorating
mornings which are frequent in the southern regions
of the United States, there issued from the
principal hotel on the valley-side of Harper's Ferry
two travellers, attended by a venerable and stately
southern slave. The experienced eye of the old
ferryman, as he stood in his flat-bottomed boat
awaiting the arrival of this party, discovered at
once that our travellers were from the far South. “Five long years have we lived under the same
roof, pursued the same studies, or rather the same
studies pursued us;—engaged in the same dissipation,
drank of the same sour wine, shed the same
vinous tears, discussed the same dinners and suppers,
enjoyed the same dances,—stag dances, I
mean,—played the same music, belonged to the
same society, and, I was going to say, fallen in love
with the same nymphs; but that brings me to the
subject of this letter. I am in for it! Yes, you
may well look surprised! It is a fact! Who is
the lady? you ask. I will tell you,—that is, if I can;
her name is St. Clair. O! she is the most lovely,
modest, weeping, melancholy, blue-eyed, fairhaired,
and mysterious little creature you ever
beheld. If you could only see her bend that white
neck, and rest her head upon that small hand, her
eye lost in profound thought, until the lower lid
just overflows, and a tear steals gently down that
most lovely cheek; and then see her start up
stealthily to join again in the conversation, with
the most innocent consciousness of guilt imaginable;
—but what is it that brings these tears to sadden
the heart of one so youthful and so innocent?
`There's the rub,' as Hamlet says. Yourself,
Lamar, and I were unanimous, as you perhaps
remember, that men generally suffer in proportion
to their crimes, even in this world. I here renounce
that opinion, with all others founded upon
college logic. A half-taught college boy, in the
pride of his little learning and stubborn opinions, is
little better than an innocent. But, you ought to
see this fair sufferer in order fully to appreciate
the foregoing opinion. You would see child-like
innocence—intelligence—benevolence; in short,
all that is good, in her sad but lovely countenance. “Thus far I have flown before the wind—sand,
I should have said. At any rate, here I am, in this
town of German religionists. Here dwells the first
unanimous people I have ever seen. They are
Moravians; and every thing is managed by this
little community for the common benefit. They
have one tavern, one store, one doctor, one tanner,
one potter, and so on in every trade or occupation.
Besides these, they have a church, and a
flourishing female seminary. The latter is conducted
upon the utilitarian plan—each lady, in turn,
has to perform the offices of cook, laundress, and
gardener; and, I need hardly say, that it is admirably
conducted. After I had visited all these
establishments — for every respectable looking
stranger is waited upon by some one appointed for
that purpose to conduct him thither,—I returned
to the large, cool, and comfortable inn, and had
scarcely seated myself to enjoy the comforts of
nicotiana, when a small billet was handed to me
by a handsomely dressed and polite black servant
with a glazed hat, which not a little astonished me,
you may be sure. I had not a living acquaintance
in the whole state that I knew of; except, indeed,
old Father Bagby, the master of ceremonies to the
little community. It could not be a challenge
from some Hans Von Puffenburg of these quiet
burghers: so I concluded it must be a billetdoux
from some of the beautiful creatures at the
seminary on the hill. You can easily imagine,
therefore, that I was no long time in tearing it
open; when, behold! it was, in good truth, from a
lady. Can you guess who? No. Then take the
note itself entire. “ `If, as I believe, you are the same Mr. Randolph
who was a room and class-mate of my son
Victor Chevillere, in college, I will be very glad
to see you. The servant will show you to our little
parlour. “ `I am the luckiest dog alive,' said I, jumping
nearly over the negro's head. `Is your young
mistress here also.' “I TOLD you in my last of our surprise at the
little coincidence of the number on the card, and
that on the house where the lady alighted, with
whom Lamar had exchanged some intelligent
glances in her more girlish days; but I did not
complete the relation, which I will do presently. “The day being Sunday, I sent old Cato this
morning to arouse Lamar quite early, in order to
ascertain if he was disposed to walk before breakfast,
and view some of the boasted parks, groves,
and gardens of these hospitable Gothamites. Old
Cato soon returned, saying that Lamar had but
that moment fallen asleep, but that he would be
with me as soon as he could make a hasty toilet;
hasty it indeed was, for he was not many minutes
behind Cato, in his morning-gown and slippers,
yawning and stretching his clenched fists through
the room as if he had sat in his chair all night. “10 o'clock P. M. “Events which seem to me worth recording,
crowd upon us so fast now, that it is almost impossible
to give you, according to promise, even a
profile view of our movements. “I have seen her, Randolph, and seen her far
more captivating and beautiful than ever! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 4 | Author: | Caruthers
William Alexander
1802-1846 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “You will be surprised to learn that this letter
is written in bed, on a large old portfolio of yours,
while I am propped up with chairs and pillows behind;
all during the doctor's absence, and against
the urgent entreaties of the whole house. “The change in Virginia's deportment has been
to me a curious subject of study and reflection. I
dare not say that it has been entirely disinterested
study, but perhaps it was none the less close and
minute on that account. We are apt to investigate
those engines which operate upon ourselves
very philosophically. But before I go any farther,
permit me to correct an error into which I fear
I have led you, because I had honestly fallen into
it myself. I stated to you that my sickness had
cast out devils for me, and that I was altogether a
changed and reformed man. It is no such thing;
I feel the devil of mischief and fun in me even
now. It was nothing more than a natural depression
of animal spirits, consequent upon the low
state of my stomach and pulsations. The doctor
was my priest on the occasion. He subdued the
old Adam in me for a time, by the assistance of
his lancet and the whole vegetable and mineral
kingdom, worked up into shot and bullets vulgarly
called pills, by the aid of which these same doctors,
I believe, often do a deal of execution; at all
events this disciple fleeced me of a goodly quantity
of the flesh upon my ribs; none of his shot
happened to be mortal; but, nevertheless, I would
advise you to keep out of the reach of their magazines.
The muzzle of a pill-box is as terrible to
me now, as the mysterious dark hole in the end of
a forty-two-pounder; and a blister-plaster as awful
as an army with banners. As for cupping-glasses
and scarificators, they are neither more nor less
than instruments of torture, borrowed from the
Spanish inquisition. But above all, deliver me
from the point of a seton-needle! Did you ever
see a cruel boy string fish on a stick before they
were dead? He runs the stick through the gills,
tearing and torturing as it goes; so do these disciples
of Esculapius; they seize a piece of your
skin, no matter how scarce the article may be,—
no matter if your lips do not cover your teeth, and
the bones of your nose look white through the attenuated
sheath! Away goes this surgical bayonet
through a handful of it, armed with a piece of gum
elastic, which is left sticking there, the sensation on
the back of your neck being as if the ramrod of a
small swivel had been shot through it; and there
you must sit, or stand, or lie, with this huge thing
all the while poking your head forward, as if you
had a pillory on your back. “I have deferred the closing of this letter a day
longer than I intended when I penned the above.
The fact is, I was not so much in the humour for
writing as I expected. I was compelled to order
your horse and take my first ride, and you may be
sure that I did not restrain his mettle. What
would you argue from this? That I was successful?
or defeated? I should suppose neither, from
that circumstance alone, say you,—as you would
be apt to ride down your impetuosity in either
case. `They tell me hereabouts you're married. Well,
hurrah for old Kentuck, I say, and her sister Carolina.
I'm married, too! yes, and I believe everybody's
married, nearabouts, as far as I can learn.
It's twisted strange, ain't it, when a feller gets half
corned,[5]
[5]Western term for drunk.
everybody reels round; and when a feller
gets married, everybody else should get married
just at that particular time. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 5 | Author: | Caruthers
William Alexander
1802-1846 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Knights of the Horse-shoe | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Dear Sir—This letter will be handed to you by one of the most unfortunate
adherents of the Pretender. Start not my dear Sir—he is but one of the
Scottish jacobins, and will in no wise compromise you. The very fact of his
seeking your country is evidence enough if it were wanting, that he desires to
be at peace from the toils and dangers of political partizanship. These are
claims enough for citizenship you may think, but not warrant sufficient to
claim your personal friendship. He has these also, for he was one of those
unfortunate men who befriended and supported your late kinsman to the last.
He protests that he will in no wise compromise your Excellency with the ministry
or their adherents on your side of the water, and has begged me not to
write, but knowing that you would delight to befriend so staunch an adherent
of the unfortunate General, I have insisted on his taking a sealed packet at
all events, as it would contain other matters than those relating purely to
himself. And now for those matters. He will be accompanied by a great
many ruined families of rather a higher class than that from which your immigrants
are generally furnished—they, too, are worn out in spirit and in fortune,
with the ceaseless struggles between the hereditary claimant of the
crown and the present occupant. They see, also, breakers ahead. The
Queen's health is far from being stable, and in case of her sudden demise
there will be an awful struggle here. Are they not right then to gather up
the little remnant of their property and seek an asylum on your peaceful
shores? Your note of last night, containing an invitation to Temple Farm, from
Kate, has just been received. I will go, but for a reason, among others,
which I fear my ever kind friend, Kate, will consider any thing but complimentary—it
is because this house is haunted, and I can no longer stay in it.
Look not so grave, dear father, 'tis no ghost. I wish it was, or he was, for
it is that same tedious, tiresome, persecuting, Harry Lee. I have been most
anxiously expecting your return; but, as it seems, you have become a permanent
fixture at Temple Farm, it is but right that I should grow along side
of the parent stem. The townsfolk are even more anxious for your return
than I am. I tell them you ran away from practice, but it seems the more
you desire to run away from it, the more they run after you. Few people in
this dreary world have been able to effect so much unmixed good as you have,
and for that, I thank God. Dear Father, I have no desire to live but for your
sake, and that the short time we are to live together may not be diminished by
any act of mine, I will be with you presently. Our poor pensioners and invalids
are all doing as well as usual, and I leave them in the hands of the Rev.
Mr. Jones, who, I know, will care for them as we would. He is surely one
of God's chosen instruments for doing good in this world. He has shouldered
his cross in earnest, and devoutly does he labor to advance the Redeemer's
kingdom. “Dear Sir.—You will no doubt be surprised that I date this letter from
the county jail, instead of the barracks, but, Sir, so it is—deeply mortifying
as it is to me to state the fact. I had scarcely alighted in the capital, after
marching the soldiers to the garrison, before I was waited upon by the Deputy
Sheriff of the county, with a bail writ, (or whatever that process is called
by which the law seizes a man's person,) at the suit of Henry Lee, Esq.,
and for the very money which your Excellency was mainly instrumental in
procuring at his hands for me. You will recollect, no doubt, that as a mere
matter of form, (so the gentleman expressed it,) I gave him a note of hand
for the amount. Unfortunately I paid away part of the sum for my passage
money, and the remainder to recruit my dilapidated wardrobe, so that instant
payment was out of the question. None of my new and kind friends were
in the city. I had, indeed, hoped to find the good Doctor at home, but unfortunately
for me he was absent in the country. “Dear Sir: I owe you an apology for the very abrupt manner in which I
left your house, where I had been tacitly, as it were, left in charge of the
ladies; but the fact is, Sir, that I found the young person whom you had hastily
employed as Tutor, presumptuous and impertinent, and that I must either
degrade myself by a personal encounter with him, or leave the premises. I
chose the latter, and had hoped to have paid my respects to your Excellency
before you left the capital, but was detained by unavoidable legal business until
you had unfortunately left the city. It is useless now to enter into particulars
as to his conduct in your absence; for the evidence is now before
me, that he is such a gross impostor and swindler, that it is scarcely worth
while to inquire into minor particulars of conduct. While I was in the very
act of consulting Attorney General Clayton, (who is also my own legal adviser,)
about the steps necessary to be taken in order to repossess the funds
out of which I weakly suffer myself to be cheated, I received a ship letter by
way of York. Whom does your Excellency suppose that letter was from?
Why, sir, from Mr. Henry Hall, my cousin, the real gentleman, whose name
and character this base impostor had assumed for the lowest purposes. You
will recollect that I had written to the young man before this person appeared
at your house, informing him of my aunt's will. This letter which I
have received is in answer to that one, and states among other things that
the writer would sail in the very first vessel for this country after the one
which would bring the letter, so that by the time that this pseudo Mr. Hall
manages to release himself from prison, where I have snugly stowed him,
the real personage, whose name he has assumed, will be here to confront
him. I am delighted that I am thus able to relieve your Excellency from
the disagreeable duty of unmasking the impostor; for if your Excellency
will permit me to say so, your kindly nature had so far led you astray with
regard to this man, that you might have found it rather unpleasant to deal
with him. Leave all that to me, Sir—I will give him his deserts, be well assured;
and if he escapes with whole ears and a sound skin, he may thank
the clemency of the law, and not mine. Dear Ellen: Such a friendship as ours can bear the imposition with which
I am about to tax you. You know the sad tale of this poor Indian girl, and
how it lacerates all our hearts afresh, even to look upon her; and knowing
this, you will do all those little kindnesses for her that we cannot, and which
her situation requires. She sees that we cannot look upon her with complacency,
and now she misinterprets it. God knows we wish to wreak no vengeance
upon her for my poor brother's death. Do make her sensible of all
this. You, my dear Ellen, that know so well how to compass these delicate
offices so much better than any one else—do give her all the comfort the case
admits of, and administer such consolation as her peculiar nature requires.
Explain to her our feelings, and that they are the farthest in the world
removed from unkindness Oh, Ellen, you know what a shock we have sustained,
and will, I know, acquit us of any mawkish sensibility in the case.
I trust her entirely to your kindness and discretion. My father has just
stepped in, and anticipating my object, begged to see this note; and he now
begs me to say to you, that Wingina must be closely watched, else her brother
will contrive some subtle scheme to whisk her off again. I again resume my sweet correspondence with you, after an interval it
seems to me of an age: computed by what I have (may I not say we have)
suffered. But during all my unexampled difficulties and trials, one constant
soarce of consolation remained to me. It was your steady constancy. It is
true, that for a time, I was laboring under a delusion in regard to it, but even
during that time, you were as unwavering as before. No portion of blame
can attach to you, that I was led astray. You, my Ellen, have been like my
evening and morning star—the last ray of serene comfort at night, and the
brightest dawn of hope in the morning. From day to day, and from year to
year, have you clung to the memory of the youth to whom you plighted your
young affections—through good and through evil report—through life and in
death, (as was supposed) you have without wavering or turning aside, cherished
the first bright morning dream of youthful love. Do you know, my
Ellen, that the world scarcely believes in the reality of such early attachments
enduring to the end. The heartless throng know not, my sweet playmate, of
the little romantic world we possess within ourselves. They have all gone
astray after strange gods, and cannot believe that others will be more true and
devoted than they have been. Especially has the odium of all such failures
been laid to the charge of your sex, but I am sure unjustly. The first slight
or unkindness nearly always proceeds from the other, and this slight or unkindness
cannot be blazoned to the world—it is hidden within the recesses of
the sufferer's heart, and pride (perhaps proper maidenly pride) prevents it from
ever being known. How happy are we my Ellen, that not a shadow of distrust
has fallen out between us—if indeed I except your momentary confounding
me with the gentleman whose name I had assumed, and my temporary
mistake about my brother's marriage with you. You see I have brought
myself to write that name. While I am upon the subject of Miss Elliot's
engagement, permit me to explain one thing which I omitted in the hurry of
departure, and the confusion which attended all its exciting scenes. That
young lady though present at the masking scene at the Governor's house, and
knowing of my design to present myself in disguise, among my old associates,
was not made acquainted with the name or occupation which I would assume.
The resolution to adopt that name was seized upon after the departure of that
young lady and her father. Hence her supposition, on hearing that Mr. Hall
had arrived in the Colony, that it was her own Henry. I am led to think of
these things, by seeing, so frequently, this young gentleman, with whom I
was, and am, on the most intimate terms. His distress of mind is truly pitiable—he
appears like one physically alive and well, and yet dead to all hope.
Not absolutely dead to all hope either, for you should have seen how the blessed,
but dormant, faculty flashed up for a moment or two, when I told him, a
little while ago, that there was a prospect of an expedition being sent ahead of
the troops, in pursuit of the assassins and robbers who murdered our old friend
and stole his mistress. Oh, if he could be sent off upon such an expedition,
what a blessed relief the activity and excitement of the pursuit would be to
him. But the Governor, though sympathizing fully with him and me, would
not consent to it, and I must say his reasons were to me, satisfactory; not so,
however, with my poor friend; he is dissatisfied with the Governor on account
of it, and if it were not for my restraining and urgent counsel, he would start
off, single handed, in pursuit. The fact is, his apprehensions for the fate of
the poor girl, whether dead or alive, are so desponding, that the madness and
rashness of such an adventure, only add new charms to it, in his eyes, and I
can only seduce him from such wild designs by dwelling upon the known
clemency of the Indians to other females, who have for months and years
remained captives with them. I have exhausted all my recollections of the
kind, and I have put the scout, Jarvis, in possession of his dreadful secret, and
commanded him to detail all his knowledge favorable to my views. At this
very moment he is walking with Joe, among the tall pines, his melancholy
eye wandering among the stars, while Joe is telling a long story of a Mrs.
Thompson, who was taken prisoner by them and carried beyond the mountains.
I at first suspected my new forest friend, of romancing in the wildest
vein, and inventing as he went along, for the justifiable purpose, as it seemed
to me, of plucking the rooted sorrow from the heart of my friend, but I am
satisfied now that it is a true narrative, because he recounted several circumstances
about the route to the mountains, which he had before told me he had
procured from an old lady, who had been a prisoner among the Indians. Seeing
that he was, for the time, so absorbed with the story of the scout, I have
stolen away, my Ellen, to hold this sweet converse with you. If you had but
known the charming girl, about whom my friend thus mourns, you would
neither be surprised nor jealous that even I feel an anxious interest in her fate.
Think too of her sad history,—the loss of her uncle by whom she was adopted,
and upon whom she doted as a father, little less fond than the real one whom
she has now lost, also. Think, too, of the dreadful manner of their two deaths
—of her nearest and dearest kinsmen. Then bring before your mind the
highly educated, delicate and sensitive girl herself—torn from the reeking
body of her deceased parent; and borne a captive among a rude and wild people,
not one word of whose language she understands. Oh its a dreadful fate
for one like her. She is a most lovely girl in every sense of the word, and as
good as she is beautiful! I feel a double interest in her fate, because her
sad lot is so much like my own. We were first wrecked by the same disastrous
political storm—thrown upon the same shores, and among the same
people for a time. Well Bill, I'm dad shamed if I don't bust if I don't write to you a spell—the
fact is Bill, I've kept company with these here gold laced gentry so long that
I'm gettin' spiled—fact! I rubbed myself all over last night head and ears
with salt for fear on't. Yes, and if you and Charley and Ikey don't take keer,
I'll cut you when I come back. But without any joke at all about it, I've got
into the greatest mess that ever the likes of you clapped eyes on. There's
that Mr. Hall—the real genuine Mr. Hall, the one as come last; O Lord if you
could only see how he takes on—dash my flint, if I don't think he's a leetle
teched in the upper story. All day long he rides that black horse—(and he's
dressed in black you know) and looks as if he was a goin' to his grandmother's
funeral. Poor lad, they say he's got cause enough, the yaller niggers have
run away with his sweet heart, but you don't know nothin' about them sort of
tender things, Bill, its only a throwin' of pearls before swine to tell you of 'em,
else I would tell you that Mr. Hall and me is exactly in the same fix. Yes,
you and Charley may laugh, confound you, if so be you ever spell this out,
We're exactly in the same situation—the yaller niggers has run away with
my sweet heart too. You know the little Ingin gal that asked me for that
lock 'o hair, but you know al about it and what's the use of swettin' over agin.
Well, Squire Lee, that Mr. Hall that was tried for killin' the Governor's son;
well, he says she's a ruined gal, and to hear him talk, you'd think that she
was dead and buried and he a sayin' of the funeral service over her. I tell you
Bill, these gentry are queerish folks, they don't know nothin' of human nature.
He says he wants to know if I would take another man's cast off mistress.
Now, Bill, ain't her lover dead, and could'nt I make an honest woman of her,
by a marryin' of her, I'd like to know that. But the best part of the story is
to come yit. The Governor's been axed about it, and he's all agreed, and says
moreover, that he'll settle fifty pounds a year on me, if the gal will have me.
So you see, Bill, she's a fortune. Did'nt I tell you that I was a goin to seek
my fortune, and that you had better come along. But I've talked about myself
long enough, now let me tell you something of our betters. The old
Governor, I tell you what, he's a tip top old feller, in the field. He don't know
nothing about fightin' Ingins yit, but I'll tell you, he'll catch it mighty quick;
he makes every one stand up to the rack, and as for running away from an
enemy, it ain't in his dictionary. I am told he drinks gunpowder every mornin'
in his bitters, and as for shootin,' he's tip top at that, too. He thinks nothin'
of takin' off a wild turkeys' head with them there pistols of his'n. You may'nt
believe the story about the gunpowder, but I got from old June, his shoe black,
who sleeps behind his tent, and I reckon he ought to know, if any body does.
He rides a hoss as if he rammed down the gunpowder with half a dozen ramrods.
You ought to see him a ridin' a review of a mornin'. I swang if his
cocked hat don't look like a pictur', and I'm told he's all riddled with bullets
too, and that he sometimes picks the lead out of his teeth yit. He's a a whole
team, Bill; set that down in your books. The next man to the Governor is Mr.
Frank, that I told you of a while ago; he belongs to the gunpowder breed too
he's got an eye like a eagle, and, Bill when they made a gintleman of him they
spiled one of the best scouts in all these parts. If there's any fightin' you
take my word for it, he'll have his share. Some of the men do say that he was
for upsettin' the Queen when he was to England, and that's the reason he came
over in disguise. One thing I know, he's got no airs about him; he talks to
me just as he does to the Governor, and this present writin', as the lawyers say,
is writ on his camp stool and with his pen and paper. I guess he'll find his pen
druv up to the stump. Well, I suppose you want to know what I call this
camp nigger foot for. I'll tell you, for I christened it myself. I was a followin'
of a fresh trail as hard as one of the Governor's bounds arter a buck—
when what should we light upon, but the track of of a big nigger's foot in the
mud here among em—fact! I told the Governor afore I seed the print of
the nigger's foot that they had had some spy or another at Williamsburg, else
they would'nt a know'd the waggons as had the powder in 'em. Oh, I forgot
to tell you that the yaller raskels killed one of the sentinels, and stole a heap
of powder and lead. Yes, and they had the wagon tops marked with red paint. The ink would blister the paper, could I be guilty of the hypocrisy of commencing
a letter to you with an endearing epithet, after all that is past and
gone. Indeed, it was my intention never to have addressed you again in
any manner this side of the grave. I thought you had done your worst
towards me and mine, and I was resolved, if I could not forgive, that I would
at least bear it in silence. But I was mistaken, you had not done your worst,
as this night's experience teaches me. I find that my heart yearns towards every
thing connected with the happy days of our infancy. Over many of these
you have power, and through these you can wound me grievously. I do not,
and will not, charge you with suborning one of our father's faithful servants
to his own ruin and disgrace. I leave it entirely with you and your God.—
But if even innocent, (which I trust in God you are,) yet you are responsible
for their conduct. Nay, the world, even your old associates here, hold you
now as the accessory before the fact, to this poor fellow's crime. Oh, Henry,
how have your passions led you on, from step to step, to this degradation!
Can you be the proud boy that I once knew as an affectionate brother? But
I will not be weak; my object in writing is merely a matter of business. I
have a proposition to make to you—it is that you abandon your home and
country forever. Start not, but listen to me. You know that you will be
largely indebted to me for the yearly proceeds of my property, every cent of
which you have drawn, and which I understand you will not be able to repay,
without sacrificing your own property. Now, I propose to give you a clear
quittance for the whole of it, if you will sail for Europe before my return, and
take poor Cæsar with you. I know that you can find means to liberate him—
indeed, I do not think the Governor himself will be much displeased to find
this scheme carried into effect upon his return. Reflect well upon it, and may
God forgive you for your past errors. I shall never cease to pray not only for
that, but that I may myself learn to grant you that tree and full forgiveness
which I daily ask him for myself. Dear Frank.—But a few days have elapsed since your departure, yet it
seems an age. Short as the time is, however, I must write now in compliance
with my promise, or lose all opportunity of writing, until the expedition is on
its return. The courier who takes this, it is hoped, will overtake you near the
foot of the mountains. First and foremost, then, I must be selfish enough to
begin at home. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, and I
suppose the pen writeth. You will, I am sure, be surprised to learn that my
father seems to miss your society even more than I. After your departure,
he would sit up for hours, wrapped up in his own thoughts. At first I did not
heed this particularly, because he often does so, when any of his patients are
sick unto death; but I soon found that my caresses—a successful remedy
generally—were entirely unheeded; and once I saw a tear stealing down
his dear and venerable face. I could submit tacitly no longer, but begged him
to tell me what disturbed him. He said he was beginning to find out my
value just as he was about to lose me. “Dear father,” said I “I will never,
never leave you. We have been too long all in all to each other!” Was I
not right, Frank, in giving him this assurance, and will you not doubly assure
him, when you come back? I know you will. “How can you make any such
promise, my child,” he asked, “when you have given your whole heart and
soul to another?” Now, was not this a strange speech for the good old man
to make? Do you not discover a little—just a little—jealousy in it? I
thought I did, and I laughed at the idea, though the tears were coursing each
other down his cheeks faster than ever; and I taxed him with the strange
manifestation. “Well,” said he, “have you not been wife, and daughter,
and companion, and comforter, and nurse, and every thing to me—and how
can I live, when all that gives life and cheerfulness to my house is gone?
It will be putting out the light of mine eyes—for my Ellen, all is dark
and dreary, when your shadow does not fall within the range of these
fast failing orbs.” According to promise, you see I have begun to write you a letter—and
one dozen have I commenced before, but tore them up, because I did not
know exactly what word to prefix to your name. First I tried plain Bernard—that
looked too cold and abrupt; and then Mr. Moore—and that appeared
too business like and formal; and then I began without any prefix at
all. At last, I went to Ellen in my distress, and she rated me roundly for
being ashamed to salute with an endearing epithet a man to whom I had promised
my hand, and given my heart. Nor was that all—she took me to task
for still wrapping myself up in that reserve which the world compels us to
wear, instead of endeavoring, as is my duty, (you know I call her Mrs. Duty,)
to establish an unreserved confidence between us, and to learn and betray at
the same time all those peculiarities of thought and feeling which go to make
up our identity. As I told her, that is the very thing which I dread. My Dear, Sir—At length we have scaled the Blue Mountains, but
not without a sharp skirmish with the savages, and many of them, I am
sorry to say, were of those who so lately received our bounty, and were
besides objects of such deep solicitude to us. All our labors, my dear
Sir, towards civilizing and christianizing even the tributaries, have been
worse than thrown away. Mr. Boyle's splendid scheme of philanthropy is
a failure, and we, his humble agents, have no other consolation left, but
a consciousness of having done our duty, with a perseverance which
neither scorn nor scepticism could not turn aside. Let it not be
said hereafter, that no effort was made in Virginis to treat the Aborigines
with the same spirit of clemency and mildness which was so successful
in Pennsylvania. Far greater efforts have been made by us, than was
ever made in that favored colony. The difference in the result is no
doubt owing to the fact, that the subjects with whom we have had to
deal were irretrievably spoiled before they came under our charge—not
so with those of Pennsylvania. I mention these things to you, because you
know that it was my determination when I sat out, to cross the mountains,
peaceably if I could, and forcibly if I must. The latter has been the alternative
forced upon me. From almost the very moment of setting out, our
steps have been dogged, and our flanks harrassed by these lawless men, and
more than one murder has been committed upon our sentries. But of
these things we can converse when we meet. I suppose you are anxious to
hear something of the country, which I have so long desired to see with my
own eyes. Well, Sir, the descriptions given to us at Temple Farm by the
interpreter were not at all exaggerated, and were, besides, wonderfully accurate
in a geographical point of view. It is indeed true enough that there are
double ranges of mountains, and that the sources of the Mississippi do not
rise here. We are now in a valley between these ranges, with the western
mountains distinctly in view, and the eastern ones immediately in our rear.
This valley seems to extend for hundreds of miles to the northeast and south-west,
and may be some fifty or sixty broad. I learn from my prisoners that
it has been mostly kept sacred by the Indians as a choice hunting ground, and
has not been the permanent residence of any of them, but that they came
and squatted during the hunting season. All this the interpreter kept (very
wisely, as he thought, no doubt) to himself. We have not yet seen the
miraculous boiling and medicinal springs, nor the bridge across the mountains;
but parties of exploration are daily going out, and such extravagant
accounts as they give of the game, and the country, and the rivers, and the
magnificent prospects, beggar my pen to describe. I can see enough, my dear
Sir, from the heights in my near neighborhood, to know that it is one of the
most charming retreats in the world. I do not hesitate to predict that a
second Virginia will grow up here, which will rival the famed shores of the
Chesapeake; but the products will be different, and the people must be different;
for it is a colder region. We have already had nipping frosts, and some
ice upon the borders of the streams. I am once more writing from a couch of some pain and suffering, but thank
God not like the last from which I addressed you that dismal letter, which I
then supposed would be my last. I have no such apprehensions now. My
wounds are in a fair way, and I am even permitted to walk about this large
tent—(the Governor's marquee) and above all, I am permitted to write to you. My Dear Sir: I have received your letter of the 5th inst., and in reply to it,
can only say what I some years past said to my friend George W. Summers,*
*The Hon. Geo. W. Summers, the present representative in Congress, from the Kenawha District,
in Virginia.
on the subject of your letter. I said to him, that I had seen in the possession
of the eldest branch of my family, a Golden Horse-Shoe set with garnets,
and having inscribed on it the motto: “Sic juval transcendere montes,” which
from tradition, I always understood was presented by Governor Spotswood, to
my Grandfather, as one of many gentlemen who acompanied him across the
mountains. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 6 | Author: | Hale
Sarah Josepha Buell
1788-1879 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Keeping house and house keeping | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “My dear,” said Mrs. Harley to her husband
one morning, “I have been thinking we
had better make a change in our domestic department.
Nancy, I find, is getting quite impertinent;
she wants to go out one afternoon
every week, and that, in addition to her nightly
meetings, is quite too much. Shall I settle
with her to-day and dismiss her?” “My dear William—Your earthly treasures
(that is, little John and myself) are running
wild in these Elysian fields. Escaped
from the din and tumult of the ctiy, it is so reviving
to breathe the pure air of this healthful
region, that the principal part of my conversation
is to tell all the kind people whom I see
here how delighted I am with the change, and
how happy they must be who enjoy it all the
time; to which Aunt Ruth generally replies,
`Those who make the change are the people
who are alive to its benefits; while those who
always live amid such beauty become indifferent
spectators.' “Dear Husband—When I last wrote, the
full tide of happiness seemed flowing in upon
me on every side; but alas! the change. Johnny,
the day after I wrote you, was taken ill,
and has continued so ever since. His disease
the doctor pronounces to be the scarlet fever.
To-day he is a little better; and while he is
sleeping, I have taken my writing-desk to his
bedside, that I may be ready to note any alteration. “Afternoon “Dear Aunt—You very good-naturedly
ask me how I like the change from my former
mode of living. I will frankly tell you, that it
scarcely admits a comparison. I blush to recall
my former imbecility, and often wonder
at the long suffering of my friends, and of
William in particular—that he should chide so
little when he felt so much! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 7 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The knights of seven lands | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | At the close of a summer's day, sometime near the end of the fourteenth
century, a party of young knights, seven in number, were returning to their
several countries from attending a great tournament held in the lists of the
Moorish palace of the Alhambra, then occupied by John, king of Castile.
This tournament was held in honor of the nuptials of the Prince with the
Infanta, and from its magnificence had drawn together the flower of the
chivalry of many lands. The company of knights alluded to, consisted of
one of Spain, whose castle lay northward, near the Pyrennees; one of
France; one of England; one of Germany; one of Rome; of a Scottish
knight, and a knight of Venice, all journeying homeward from the jousts,
with their esquires and retinues. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 8 | Author: | Myers
P. Hamilton
(Peter Hamilton)
1812-1878 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The King of the Hurons | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It was during a violent storm in the spring of 1708, that a French
brig of war, seriously crippled, was discovered in the bay of New
York, showing signals of distress, and approaching, with indirect
course, to the harbor. There was, of course, not wanting a race of
panic-makers in those days—progenitors, doubtless, of a similar class
in our own—who at once saw in the unfortunate vessel an estray
from a belligerent fleet, hovering close at hand, and ready to
descend, with fatal swoop, upon the long-threatened city. Rumors,
indeed, of such an armada had long been rife, and had, perhaps,
accomplished their intended effect, in restraining the English colony
from any vigorous efforts at the conquest of Canada—an enterprise
on which more words than wadding had been wasted, but which, of
course, was not to be undertaken while any peril impended over its
own capital. France might thus be compared to some good dame,
who watches from a distance the quarrels between her neighbors'
children and her own, and contents herself with shaking a stick at
the former, while in reality too indolent, or too much occupied in
more important business, to fulfil any of her pantomimic threats.
Certain it was, that at this period she meditated no invasion of that
embryo metropolis, which reposed, in doubtful security, betwixt two
rivers and a picket fence; the latter being denominated by courtesy,
a wall, and stretching transversely across the town. The good ship
St. Cloud, on the contrary, if aught could be judged from her zigzag
movements, was approaching the city with anything but alacrity,
despite the nautical adage, old, doubtless, as her day, “any port in
a storm.” Driven from her course, dismasted, and a-leak, she had
been tossed for weeks, cork-like, upon the waves, the very plaything
of the elements, until all hope of attaining a friendly port was abandoned,
and every minor consideration became merged in the
instinctive desire for the preservation of life. Foremost to secure
their own safety, a reckless portion of the crew had deserted by night
in the only boat which had escaped destruction; and it was with no
other means of safety for the lives intrusted to his care, that Captain
Sill, on discovering himself near the Bay of Manhattan, resolved to
seek the harbor of New York. That he anticipated no mitigated
fate from his country's enemies, by reason of his disaster, was quite
apparent from the anxiety depicted upon his countenance, as he
paced the quarter-deck of his vessel, and looked mournfully towards
the land. What unusual reason he had to deprecate the approaching
calamity will appear more fully, if we descend with him into the
cabin, and survey the few, but not unimportant personages, who
were under his charge as passengers, and who had vainly anticipated,
on leaving home, a safe and speedy voyage to the French colonial
capital, Quebec. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 11 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The kinsmen, or, The black riders of Congaree | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The colonies of North America, united in resistance to
the mother country, had now closed the fifth year of their
war of independence. The scene of conflict was now
almost wholly transferred from the northern to the southern
colonies. The former were permitted a partial repose,
while the latter, as if to compensate for a three years' respite,
were subjected to the worst aspects and usages of
war. Georgia and South Carolina were supposed by
the British commanders to be entirely recovered to the
sway of their master. They suffered, in consequence, the
usual fortune of the vanquished. But the very suffering
proved that they lived, and the struggle for freedom was
continued. Her battles,
“Once begun,
Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son,
Though often lost,”
were never considered by her friends in Carolina to be
utterly hopeless. Still, they had frequent occasion to despair.
Gates, the successful commander at Saratoga, upon
whose great renown and feeble army the hopes of the
south, for a season, appeared wholly to depend, had suffered
a terrible defeat at Camden—his militia scattered to
the four winds of Heaven—his regulars almost annihilated
in a conflict with thrice their number, which, for fierce
encounter and determined resolution, has never been surpassed;—while
he, himself, a fugitive, covered with shame
and disappointment, vainly hung out his tattered banner in
the wilds of North Carolina—a colony sunk into an apathy
which as effectually paralysed her exertions, as did the
presence of superior power paralyse those of her more
suffering sisters. Conscious of indiscretion and a most
fatal presumption—the punishment of which had been as
sudden as it was severe—the defeated general suffered far
less from apprehension of his foes, than of his country.
He had madly risked her strength, at a perilous moment,
in a pitched battle, for which he had made no preparation
—in which he had shown neither resolution nor ability.
The laurels of his old renown withered in an instant—his
reputation was stained with doubt, if not with dishonour.
He stood, anxious and desponding, awaiting, with whatever
moral strength he could command, the summons to that
tribunal of his peers, upon which depended all the remaining
honours of his venerable head. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 12 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The kinsmen, or, The black riders of Congaree | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | We have omitted, in the proper place, to record certain
events that happened, during the progress of the
conflict, in order that nothing should retard the narrative
of that event. But, ere it had reached its termination,
and while its results were in some measure doubtful, a
new party came upon the scene, who deserves our attention
and commanded that of the faithful woodman. A
cry—a soft but piercing cry—unheard by either of the
combatants, first drew the eye of the former to the neighbouring
wood from which it issued; and simultaneously,
a slender form darted out of the cover, and hurried forward
in the direction of the strife. Bannister immediately
put himself in readiness to prevent any interference between
the parties; and, when he saw the stranger pushing
forward, and wielding a glittering weapon in his
grasp, as he advanced, he rushed from his own concealment,
and threw himself directly in the pathway of the
intruder. The stranger recoiled for an instant, while
Bannister commanded him to stand. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 16 | Author: | Shillaber
B. P.
(Benjamin Penhallow)
1814-1890 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Knitting-work | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Gentlemen: It has suddenly occurred to me that a preface is
altogether unnecessary, and, therefore, I positively decline writing
one, inasmuch as I have commenced five already, and been compelled
to abandon them all, from sheer inability to complete them.
Prefaces have always seemed to me like drummers for a show,
calling upon people to “come up and see the elephant,” with a
slight exaggeration of the merit of the animal to be exhibited; and
though, in the present case, such enlargement of the fact would
not be necessary, still those disposed to be captious might read our
promises with incredulity. Mrs. Partington, no less than the Roman
dame, should be above suspicion; therefore, this heralding should be
avoided, and her name left with only its olden reputation resting
about it, like the halo of cobweb and dust about an ancient vintage
of port. Her coädjutors, Dr. Spooner, Old Roger, and Wideswarth,
representing the profound, the jolly, and the sentimental, need no
endorsement among the enlightened many who will buy this book;
and we can safely leave them, as lawyers sometimes do their cases
when they have nothing to say, without argument. Again, all will
see for themselves the acid and sugar, and spirit and water, comprised
in the contents of the volume, — forming the components of a
sort of intellectual punch, of which they can partake to any extent,
without headache or heartache, as the sedate therein forms a judicious
corrective of the eccentric and gay which might intoxicate.
The illustrations, by Hoppin, tell their own story, and need no
further commendation than their great excellence. The local
meaning of many of the sayings and doings of the book will, of
course, be readily understood, without explanation or apology; and
the new matter will be distinguished from the old, by the quality of
novelty that generally attaches to that with which we are not familiar.
I thought somewhat of giving the name beneath each individual
represented in our frontispiece; but the idea was dispelled in a
moment, by the reflection that Mrs. Partington — the central sun of
our social system — could not be misinterpreted; while Dr. Spooner,
Prof. Wideswarth, Old Roger, and Ike, were equally well defined;
and the skill of the artist in depicting them needed no aid. Therefore,
all things considered, I think we had better let the book slip
from its dock quietly, and drift out into the tide of publication, to
be borne by this or that eddy of feeling to such success as it may
deserve, without the formality of prefatory bottle-breaking. I leave
the matter, then, as a settled thing, that we will not have a preface. When Mrs. Partington first moved from Beanville,
and the young scion of the Partington stock was
exposed to the temptations of city life and city associations,
it was thought advisable to appoint a “guardeen”
over him. Ike was not a bad boy, in the wicked
sense of the word bad; but he had a constant proclivity
for tormenting every one that he came in contact with;
a resistless tendency for having a hand in everything
that was going on; a mischievous bent, that led him into
continual trouble, that brought on him reproaches from
all sides, and secured for him a reputation that made
him answerable for everything of a wrong character
that was done in the neighborhood. A barber's pole
could not be removed from the barber's door and placed
beside the broker's, but it must be imputed to “that
plaguy Ike;” all clandestine pulls at door-bells in the
evenings were done by “that plaguy Ike;” if a ball or
an arrow made a mistake and dashed through a window,
the ball or the arrow belonged to “that plaguy Ike;” if
on April Fool's day a piece of paper were found pasted
on a door-step, putting grave housekeepers to the trouble
and mortification of trying to pick up an imagined
letter, the blame was laid to “that plaguy Ike;” and if a
voice was heard from round the corner crying “April
Fool!” or “sold,” those who heard it said, at once, it
was “that plaguy Ike's.” Many a thing he had thus to
answer for that he did n't do, as well as many that he
did, until Mrs. Partington became convinced of the
necessity of securing some one to look after him besides
herself. “Miss Parkinson: Your boy has been and tied a culinary utensile to
the caudle appendidge of a canine favorite of ourn, an indignity that wee
shall never submit to. He is a reproach to the neighborhood, and you
must punish him severally. Daring Outrage. — Last evening a burglarious attempt
was made to enter the house of Mr. T. Speed, in
— street; but the burglar threw down a bust of
Shakespeare in the attempt, which attracted the attention
of Mr. Muggins, passing at the time, who pursued the
ruffian over a shed, and boldly attacked him in Marsh
alley, when the villain drew a pistol and threatened to
shoot his assailant, who persistingly stuck to him until
a blow from the butt of the pistol knocked him down,
and the rascal escaped, leaving his hat on the premises,
in which was the name O. Hush. Mr. Muggins treated
him very severely, and it is believed the atrocious
wretch may be detected by the injury he received.
The police are upon his track. “Mr. Milling: Be wary of Upshur. A pitcher that
goes too often to the well may come back broken. “Mr. Milling. — Sir: You may deem me a scoundrel;
but I am to be pitied. I have been led into the
temptation of speculation, have compromised our firm
in its prosecution, and have fled, like Cain, with the
brand of disgrace on my name. But, while thus leaving
like a thief, I solemnly promise that my future shall be
devoted to a reparation of the trouble I have caused.
You shall not hear from me until I am able to wipe the
stain from the name of yours, most ungratefully, “My dear Madam: I am a man of few words — a
friend of your late husband — with means sufficient to
carry out what I propose. I wish to return a portion
of the benefit he conferred upon me, a poor boy. I am
aware of your family circumstances, and would relieve
a portion of your burden. Your youngest daughter
should receive an education. I have the ability to
secure it, and would deem it a favor to be allowed to
incur the expense attending it. The only condition I
propose is that no sense of obligation may be allowed
to overpower you, and no effort be made to discover
the writer. “Dear Partelot: Please excuse me to the family.
I am suddenly called to Mulberry-street. My sister has
arrived from the country. My regards to Mrs. M., and
Misses Matilda and Lily. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 22 | Author: | Akutagawa, Ryunosuke | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kappa | | | | Published: | 1999 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 三年前の夏のことです。僕は人並みにリユツク・サツクを背負ひ、あの上高地
の温泉宿から穗高山へ登らうとしました。穗高山へ登るのには御承知の通り梓川を溯
る外はありません。僕は前に穗高山は勿論、槍ケ岳にも登つてゐましたから、朝霧の
下りた梓川の谷を案内者もつれずに登つて行きました。朝霧の下りた梓川の谷を――
しかしその霧はいつまでたつても晴れる景色は見えません。のみならず反つて深くな
るのです。僕は一時間ばかり歩いた後、一度は上高地の温泉宿へ引き返すことにしよ
うかと思ひました。けれども上高地へ引き返すにしても、兎に角霧の晴れるのを待つ
た上にしなければなりません。と云つて霧は一刻毎にずんずん深くなるばかりなので
す。「ええ、一そ登つてしまへ。」――僕はかう考へましたから、梓川の谷を離れな
いやうに熊笹の中を分けて行きました。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 26 | Author: | Arishima, Takeo | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kain no matsuei | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 長い影を地にひいて、
痩馬
(
やせうま
)
の
手綱
(
たづな
)
を取りながら、
彼
(
か
)
れは黙りこくって歩いた。大きな汚い風呂敷包と一緒に、
章魚
(
たこ
)
のように頭ばかり大きい
赤坊
(
あかんぼう
)
をおぶった彼れの妻は、少し
跛脚
(
ちんば
)
をひきながら三、四間も離れてその跡からとぼとぼとついて行った。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 29 | Author: | Matsuo, Basho | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kashima mode | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 洛の貞室、須磨の浦の月見に行きて、「松陰や月は三五夜中納言」と言ひけむ狂夫の昔もなつかしきままに、この秋、鹿島の山の月見んと思ひたつことあり。ともなふ人ふたり、浪客の士ひとり、一人は水雲の僧。僧は烏のごとくなる墨のころもに、三衣の袋を襟にうちかけ、出山の尊像を厨子に崇め入れてうしろに背負ひ、しゅ杖ひき鳴らして、無門の関も障るものなく、天地に独歩して出でぬ。いまひとりは、僧にもあらず俗にもあらず、鳥鼠の間に名をかうぶりの、鳥なき島にも渡りぬべく、門より舟に乗りて、行徳といふところに至る。舟をあがれば、馬にも乗らず、細脛の力をためさんと、徒歩よりぞ行く。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 34 | Author: | Izumi, Kyoka | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Ki no saki o omou | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: |
雨
（
あめ
）
が、さつと
降出
（
ふりだ
）
した、
停車場
（
ていしやば
）
へ
着
（
つ
）
いた
時
（
とき
）
で――
天象
（
せつ
）
は
卯
（
う
）
の
花
（
はな
）
くだしである。
敢
（
あへ
）
て
字義
（
じぎ
）
に
拘泥
（
こうでい
）
する
次第
（
しだい
）
ではないが、
雨
（
あめ
）
は
其
（
そ
）
の
花
（
はな
）
を
亂
（
みだ
）
したやうに、
夕暮
（
ゆふぐれ
）
に
白
（
しろ
）
かつた。やゝ
大粒
（
おほつぶ
）
に
見
（
み
）
えるのを、もし
掌
（
たなごころ
）
にうけたら、
冷
（
つめた
）
く、そして、ぼつと
暖
（
あたゝか
）
に
消
（
き
）
えたであらう。
空
（
そら
）
は
暗
（
くら
）
く、
風
（
かぜ
）
も
冷
（
つめ
）
たかつたが、
温泉
（
ゆ
）
の
町
（
まち
）
の
但馬
（
たじま
）
の
五月
（
ごぐわつ
）
は、
爽
（
さわやか
）
であつた。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 45 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kago | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | お幾の信仰は、何時頃から始まったものなのか、またその始まりにどんな動機を持っているのか、誰も知る者はなかった。ただそれと心附いた時には、もう十幾人という昔からの友達の中で、一人として彼女から、あらたかな
天理王命
(
てんりおうのみこと
)
の加護に就て説き聞かされない者はないほどになっていた。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 46 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kaihin ichijitsu | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 発動機の工合がわるくて、台所へ水が出なくなった。父が、寝室へ入って老人らしい鳥打帽をかぶり、外へ出て行った。暖炉に火が燃え、鳩時計は細長い松ぼっくりのような分銅をきしませつつ時を刻んでいる。露台の
硝子
（
ガラス
）
越しに見える松の並木、その梢の間に閃いている遠い海面の濃い狭い藍色。きのう雪が降ったのが今日は
燦
（
うら
）
らかに晴れているから、幅広い日光と一緒に、潮の香が炉辺まで来そうだ。光りを背に受けて、露台の籐椅子にくつろいだ
装
（
なり
）
で母がいる。彼女は不機嫌であった。いつも来る毎に水がうまく出ないから腹を立てるのであった。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 53 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | "Kekkon no seitai" | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 石川達三氏の「結婚の生態」という小説について、これまで文学作品として正面からとりあげた書評は見当らなかった。それにもかかわらず、この本は大変広汎に読まれている本の一つである。大変ひろく読まれながら、その読後の感想というものが読者の側からはっきりと反映して来ないまま、読者は作家と馴れあって一種の流行の空気を作者のためにかもし出す作用を行っている作品である。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 61 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kokukoku | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 朝飯がすんで、雑役が監房の前を雑巾がけしている。駒込署は古い建物で木造なのである。手拭を引さいた細紐を帯がわりにして、縞の着物を尻はし折りにした与太者の雑役が、ズブズブに濡らした雑巾で出来るだけゆっくり鉄格子のこま一つ一つを拭いたりして動いている。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 63 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Koorigura no nikai | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 表の往来には電車が通った。トラックも通った。時には多勢の兵隊が四列になってザック、ザック、鞣や金具の音をさせ、通った。それ等が皆
塵埃
(
ほこり
)
を立てた。まして、今は春だし、練兵場の方角から毎日風が吹くから、空気の中の埃といったらない。それが、硝子につく。硝子は、外側から一面薄茶色の粉を吹きつけたように曇っていた。何年前に、この大露台の硝子は拭かれたぎりなのだろう。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 71 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kagamimochi | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 正面のドアを押して入ると、すぐのところで
三和土
（
たたき
）
の床へ水をぶちまけ、シュッシュ、シュッシュと洗っている白シャツ、黒ズボンの若い男にぶつかりそうになった。サエは小使いだと思ったらそうではなく、そういう
風体
（
ふうてい
）
でそのへんにハタキをかけたり、椅子を動かしたり動きまわっているのは、制服の上衣をぬいだ巡査であった。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 73 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | "Kono kokoro no hokori": Paru Bakku cho | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 私たちは、どんな本でも、自分の生活というものと切りはなして読めない。そして、どんな本を読んでも、最後にはその印象が落ちてみのる生活の土壤というものは、日本の社会のさまざまな特質によって配合され、性格づけられたものである現実も知っている。私たちは、植物のようにひとりでにその土壤から生えているのではなくて、力よわくとも一人の人間の女であるから、自分の生命の価値について冷淡ではあり得ない。よりよく生きたいという切望は、特別女の心の底深く常に湧き立っている熱い泉である。よしやその泉の上に岩のおもしがおかれて人目からその清冽な姿がかくされていようとも、また、小ざかしく虚無を真似て自分からその泉の小さい
燦
（
かがや
）
きに目をそむけていようとも、やっぱりよく生きたい、という願望の実在は消されない。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 74 | Author: | Miyamoto, Yuriko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kobayashi Takiji no konnichi ni okeru igi | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 小林多喜二全集第一回配本を手にしたすべての人々が、まず感じたことは何だったろう。これで、いよいよ小林多喜二の全集も出はじめた。そのことにつよい感動があった。つづいて、小林多喜二全集の編輯は、実に周密、良心的に努力されていて、ただうりものとして現在刊行されている各種の全集類とは、まるで趣をことにした実質をもっていることを、当然のことながら新しい意義でそれぞれの心と行動の上にうけとる思いがある。直接編輯にあたって、解題を書いている手塚英孝は、小林多喜二がプロレタリア文学の領域に活動した時期、最も親しい仲間の一人であった。小田切進は、小林多喜二をふくむ日本の人民解放運動とその文学運動の成果を最もよく今日と明日の歴史の発展のうちに生かそうとしている若い世代の代表である。小林多喜二全集は、世代の発展的意欲の表現として、思いもかけない人々からの協力をうけながら発刊の運びになった。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 75 | Author: | Natsume, Soseki | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kairoko | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 百、二百、
簇
(
むら
)
がる騎士は数をつくして北の
方
(
かた
)
なる試合へと急げば、石に
古
(
ふ
)
りたるカメロットの
館
(
やかた
)
には、ただ王妃ギニヴィアの長く
牽
(
ひ
)
く
衣
(
ころも
)
の
裾
(
すそ
)
の
響
(
ひびき
)
のみ残る。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 80 | Author: | Yosano, Akiko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kaette kara | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 浜松とか静岡とか、
此方
（
こちら
）
へ来ては山北とか、国府津とか、停車する度に呼ばれるのを聞いても、疲労し切つた
身体
（
からだ
）
を持つた
鏡子
（
かねこ
）
の鈍い神経には格別の感じも与へなかつたのであつたが、
平沼
（
ひらぬま
）
と聞いた時にはほのかに心のときめくのを覚えた。それは丁度ポウトサイド、コロンボと過ぎて
新嘉坡
（
しんがぽうる
）
に船の着く前に、恋しい子供達の
音信
（
たより
）
が来て居るかも知れぬと云ふ
望
（
のぞみ
）
に心を引かれたのと一緒で自身のために
此処
（
こゝ
）
迄来て居る身内のあるのを予期して居たからである。
鏡子
（
かねこ
）
の
伴
（
つれ
）
は文榮堂書肆の主人の
畑尾
（
はたを
）
と、鏡子の
良人
（
をつと
）
の
靜
（
しづか
）
の甥で、鏡子よりは五つ六つ年下の荒木
英也
（
ひでや
）
と云ふ文学士とである。畑尾は何かを聞いた英也に、 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 81 | Author: | Yosano, Akiko | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kaikyutoso no kanata e | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | Japanese Text Initiative | | | | Description: | 人類が連帯責任の中に協力して文化主義の生活を建設し、その生活の福祉に
均霑
（
きんてん
）
することが、人生の最高唯一の理想であると私は信じています。文化生活が或程度の成熟期に入れば、そこには個人の能力に適する正当な社会的分業の生活があるばかりで、只今のように、同じ人類の内に甲と乙とで利害を異にし、甲の幸福のためには乙の幸福を犠牲とせねばならず、従って甲と乙とはその境遇に由って人格価値に優劣を分ち、生活の機会と享楽とに差等を生じる、いわゆる階級思想の如きものは、全く一掃されてしまうでしょう。 | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 148 | Author: | Davis, Richard Harding, 1864-1916. | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The King's Jackal | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | The private terrace of the Hotel Grand Bretagne, at Tangier, was
shaded by a great awning of red and green and yellow, and strewn with
colored mats, and plants in pots, and wicker chairs. It reached out
from the Kings apartments into the Garden of Palms, and was hidden by
them on two sides, and showed from the third the blue waters of the
Mediterranean and the great shadow of Gibraltar in the distance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 149 | Author: | Fox, John | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Knight of the Cumberland | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | HIGH noon of a crisp October day,
sunshine flooding the earth with
the warmth and light of old wine and,
going single-file up through the jagged
gap that the dripping of water has worn
down through the Cumberland Mountains
from crest to valley-level, a gray horse
and two big mules, a man and two young
girls. On the gray horse, I led the
tortuous way. After me came my small
sister—and after her and like her, mule-back, rode the Blight—dressed as she
would be for a gallop in Central Park or
to ride a hunter in a horse show. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 152 | Author: | Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Kerfol. | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | "YOU ought to buy it," said my host; "it's just the place for a
solitary-minded devil like you. And it would be rather worth while
to own the most romantic house in Brittany. The present people are
dead broke, and it's going for a song—you ought to buy it." | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 154 | Author: | Crane, Stephen, 1871-1900 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Kicking Twelfth | | | | Published: | 1996 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | THE Spitzenberg army was backed by traditions of centuries of victory.
In its chronicles, occasional defeats were not printed in italics, but were
likely to appear as glorious stands against overwhelming odds. A
favorite way to dispose of them was to attribute them frankly to the
blunders of the civilian heads of government. This was very good for the
army, and probably no army had more self-confidence. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 157 | Author: | Poe, Edgar Allan, 1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | King Pest | | | | Published: | 1994 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | About twelve o'clock, one night in the month of October, and
during the chivalrous reign of the third Edward, two seamen
belonging to the crew of the Free and Easy, a trading schooner
plying between Sluys and the Thames, and then at anchor in that
river, were much astonished to find themselves seated in the tap-room of an ale-house in the parish of St Andrews, London — which
ale-house bore for sign the portraiture of a 'Jolly Tar'. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 163 | Author: | Fox, John | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Knight of the Cumberland | | | | Published: | 1995 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | HIGH noon of a crisp October day,
sunshine flooding the earth with
the warmth and light of old wine and,
going single-file up through the jagged
gap that the dripping of water has worn
down through the Cumberland Mountains
from crest to valley-level, a gray horse
and two big mules, a man and two young
girls. On the gray horse, I led the
tortuous way. After me came my small
sister—and after her and like her, mule-back, rode the Blight—dressed as she
would be for a gallop in Central Park or
to ride a hunter in a horse show. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
|
