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UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875[X]
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University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 (104)
University of Virginia Library, Text collection (104)
Wiley and Putnam's library of American books (1)
wiley and putnams library of american books (1)
Date
expand1997 (104)
1Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Add
 Title:  Edgar Huntly, Or, Memoirs of a Sleep-walker  
 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: I likewise burned with impatience to know the condition of my family, to dissipate at once their tormenting doubts and my own, with regard to our mutual safety. The evil that I feared had befallen them was too enormous to allow me to repose in suspense, and my restlessness and ominous forebodings would be more intolerable than any hardship or toils to which I could possibly be subjected during this journey.
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2Author:  Flint Timothy 1780-1840Add
 Title:  Francis Berrian, or, The Mexican patriot  
 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: In the autumn of this year I set out from Massachusetts for the remote regions of the southwest on the Spanish frontier, where I reside. When I entered the steam-boat from Philadelphia to Baltimore, having taken a general survey of the motley group, which is usually seen in such places, my eye finally rested on a young gentleman, apparently between twenty-five and thirty, remarkable for his beauty of face, the symmetry of his fine form, and for that uncommon union of interest, benevolence, modesty, and manly thought, which are so seldom seen united in a male countenance of great beauty. The idea of animal magnetism, I know, is exploded. I, however, retain my secret belief in the invisible communication between minds, of something like animal magnetism and repulsion. I admit that this electric attraction of kindred minds at first sight, and antecedent to acquaintance, is inexplicable. The world may laugh at the impression, if it pleases. I have, through life, found myself attracted, or repelled at first sight, and oftentimes without being able to find in the objects of these feelings any assignable reason, either for the one or the other. I have experienced, too, that, on after acquaintance, I have very seldom had occasion to find these first impressions deceptive. It is of no use to inquire, if these likes and dislikes be the result of blind and unreasonable prejudice. I feel that they are like to follow me through my course.
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3Author:  Flint Timothy 1780-1840Add
 Title:  The Shoshonee Valley  
 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 Length the south breeze began once more to whisper along the valley, bringing bland airs, spring birds, sea fowls, the deep trembling roar of unchained mountain streams, a clear blue sky, magpies and orioles, cutting the ethereal space, as they sped with their peculiar business note, on the great instinct errand of their Creator to the budding groves. The snipe whistled. The pheasant drummed on the fallen trunks in the deep forest. The thrasher and the robin sang; and every thing, wild and tame, that had life, felt the renovating power, and rejoiced in the retraced footsteps of the great Parent of nature. The inmates of William Weldon's dwelling once more walked forth, in the brightness of a spring morning, choosing their path where the returning warmth had already dried the ground on the south slopes of the hills. The blue and the white violet had already raised their fair faces under the shelter of the fallen tree, or beneath the covert of rocks. The red bud and the cornel decked the wilderness in blossoms; and in the meadows, from which the ice had scarcely disappeared, the cowslips threw up their yellow cups from the water. As they remarked upon the beauty of the day, the cheering notes of the birds, the deep hum of a hundred mountain water-falls, and the exhilarating influence of the renovation of spring, William Weldon observed in a voice, that showed awakened remembrances—`dear friends, you have, perhaps, none of you such associations with this season, as now press upon my thoughts, in remembrances partly of joy and sadness. Hear you those million mingled sounds of the undescribed dwellers in the spring-formed waters? How keenly they call up the fresh recollections of the spring of my youth, and my own country! The winter there, too, is long and severe. What a train of remembrances press upon me! I have walked abroad in the first days of spring.— When yet a child, I was sent to gather the earliest cowslips. I remember my thoughts, when I first dipped my feet in the water, and heard these numberless peeps, croaks, and cries; and thought of the countless millions of living things in the water, which seemed to have been germinated by spring; and which appeared to be emulating each other in the chatter of their ceaseless song. How ye return upon my thoughts, ye bright morning visions! What a fairy creation was life, in such a spring prospect! How changed is the picture, and the hue of the dark brown years, as my eye now traces them in retrospect.— These mingled sounds, this beautiful morning, these starting cowslips, the whole present scene brings back 1* the entire past. Ah! there must be happier worlds beyond the grave, where it is always spring, or the thoughts, that now spring in my bosom, had not been planted there.' Minister of Jesus—A wretch in agony implores you by Him, who suffered for mankind, to have mercy upon him. He extenuates nothing. The vilest outrage and abandonment were his purpose. He confesses, that he deserves the worst. His only plea is, that he was ruined by the doting indulgence of his parents. Luxury and pleasure have enervated him, and he has not the courage to bear pain. Death is horror to him, and Oh, God! Oh, God!—the terrible death of a slow fire. Christ pitied his tormentors. Oh! let Jessy pity me. The agony is greater, than human nature can bear. Oh! Elder Wood, come, and pray with, and for `They have unbound my hands, and furnished me with the means of writing this. They are dancing round the pile, on which I am to suffer by fire. My oath, that I would possess thee, at the expense of death and hell, rings in my ears, as a knell, that would awaken the dead. Oh God! have mercy. Every thing whirls before my eyes, and I can only pray, that you may forget, if you cannot forgive
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4Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  Ingleborough Hall, and Lord of the manor  
 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 
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5Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  Tales of the Spanish seas  
 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 
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6Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The South-west  
 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 
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7Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The South-west  
 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 
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8Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Lafitte  
 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 
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9Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Lafitte  
 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 
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10Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Burton, or, The sieges  
 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 
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11Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Captain Kyd, or, The wizard of the sea  
 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: “Let me see you for a brief moment just as the moon rises, by the linden that grows at the foot of the Rondeel. My temporal, nay, spiritual welfare hangs upon your answer. I am penitent. I appeal to you as to a heavenly intercessor! Refuse not this request, lest the guilt of my suicidal blood fall on your soul.
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12Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The American lounger, or, Tales, sketches, and legends, gathered in sundry journeyings  
 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: I am a bachelor, dear reader! This I deem necessary to premise, lest, peradventure, regarding me as one of that class whose fate is sealed, — “As if the genius of their stars had writ it,” you should deem me traitor to my sworn alliance. For what has a Benedict to do with things out of the window, when his gentle wife—(what sweet phraseology this last! How prettily it looks printed!) his “gentle wife” with her quiet eye, her sewing and rocking chair on one side, and his duplicates or triplicates, in the shape of a round chunk of a baby, fat as a butter-ball; two or three roguish urchins with tops and wooden horses, and a fawn-like, pretty daughter of some nine years, with her tresses adown her neck, and a volume of Miss Edgworth's “Harry and Lucy” in her hand, which she is reading by the fading twilight—demand and invite his attention on the other. “How I yearn to be once more folded in your sisterly embrace, to lean my aching head upon your bosom, and pour my heart into yours. It is near midnight. Edward has gone out to seek some means of earning the pittance which is now our daily support. Poor Edward! How he exists under such an accumulation of misery, I know not. His trials have nearly broken his proud and sensitive spirit. Since his cruel arrest, his heart is crushed. He will never hold up his head again. He sits with me all day long, gloomy and desponding, and never speaks. Oh how thankful I feel that he has never yet been tempted to embrace the dreadful alternative to which young men in his circumstances too often fly! May he never fly to the oblivious wine cup to fly from himself. In this, dear Isabel, God has been, indeed, merciful to me. Last night Edward came home, after offering himself even as a day laborer, and yet no man would hire him, and threw himself upon the floor and wept long and bitterly. When he became calmer, he spoke of my sufferings and his own, in the most hopeless manner, and prayed that he might be taken from the world, for Pa would then forgive me. But this will never be. One grave will hold us both. I have not a great while to live, Isabel! But I do not fear to die! Edward! 'tis for Edward my heart is wrung. Alas his heart is hardened to every religious impression—the Bible he never opens, family prayers are neglected, and affliction has so changed him altogether, that you can no longer recognise the handsome, agreeable and fascinating Edward you once knew. Oh, if pa would relent, how happy we might all be again. If dear Edward's debts were paid, and they do not amount to nine hundred dollars altogether, accumulated during the three years of our marriage, he might become an ornament to society, which none are better fitted to adorn. Do, dearest Isabel, use your influence with pa, for we are really very wretched, and Edward has been so often defeated in the most mortifying efforts to obtain employment—for no one would assist him because he is in debt—(the very reason why they should) that he has not the resolution to subject himself again to refusals, not unfrequently accompanied with insult, and always with contempt. My situation at this time, dearest sister, is one also of peculiar delicacy, and I need your sisterly support and sympathy. Come and see me, if only for one day. Do not refuse me this, perhaps the last request I shall ever make of you. Plead eloquently with pa, perhaps he will not persevere longer in his cruel system of severity. Edward is not guilty—he is unfortunate. But alas, in this world, there is little distinction between guilt and misery! Come, dearest Isabel—I cannot be said “No.” I hear Edward's footstep on the stair. God bless and make you happier than your wretched sister, “I have learned the extremity of your anger against Edward. Your vindictive cruelty has cast him friendless upon the world, and I fly to share his fortune. I must ask your forgiveness for the step I am about to take. I am betrothed to Edward by vows that are registered in Heaven.—Alas! it is his poverty alone that renders him so hateful to you—for once you thought there was no one like Edward. God bless you, my dear father, and make you happy here and hereafter.
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13Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Morris Græme, or, The cruise of the Sea-Slipper  
 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 the original intention of the author of the “Dancing Feather” to have extended that work to fifty chapters, or the usual length of a novel of two volumes. But the editor of the paper to whom it was communicated in weekly numbers, requested, after six chapters had been published, that it should be limited to ten chapters. This desire of the publisher the author complied with, though with injury both to the plot and the harmonious construction of the Romance. The favorable reception of “The Dancing Feather,” even in this abridged character, induced its publisher to reprint and re-issue it in a cheap octavo form. Its unlooked for popularity in this shape, and the frequent calls for it even now, has induced the writer to carry out, in some degree, his first intention, and to present the public with a Sequel, commencing with the night of the mysterious departure from her anchoring ground of the schooner “The Dancing Feather”—to the story with which title the reader is referred. I am now near my end—but, as I believe death to be an everlasting sleep, I feel no alarm. The grave is rest. I envy the clod and the rock which are dead and feel not; and rejoice that I shall soon be their fellow! But I would say a word to you before I am annihilated. I wish you to know what you are ignorant of respecting me. I am an Englishman descended of a noble family. My grand-father was an Earl, my mother a Countess. A step-mother made my parental roof a hell, and at the age of sixteen I fled from it. I shipped as a common seaman; and having a naturedly vicious turn, (I conceal nothing now) I soon contracted the worst vices. In my twentieth year, enraged by a blow inflicted by the Captain, Iconspired, and heading a mutiny took possession of the brig, killing the Captain with my own hands and so wiping out the foul stain he had blackened me with. We steered for the coast of Africa; and, tempted by the great wealth realized by slave-stealing, we engaged in the traffic and took a cargo to the West Indies. The immense returns by the way of profit, with the absence of all principle, led me to engage in it for a long period, till at length, after several years, my name was known throughout the West Indies and inspired terror all along the African coast. The wealth I accumulated was enormous; and the guilt with which it was obtained was equally vast. But what is guilt but a name? The grave hides alike evil and good: at least this is my belief, and at this hour it is a consoling one. If there were a God I know there would be a hell for me. But my conscience is calm and gives me no warning of a hereafter; and so I die without fear. A peaceful state, my son!
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14Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Caroline Archer, or, The miliner's apprentice  
 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: CAROLINE ARCHER Was the most beautiful milliner's apprentice that tripped along the streets of Philadelphia. She was just seventeen; with the softest brown hair, that would burst into a thousand ringlets over the neck and shoulders, all she could do to teach it to lay demurely on her cheek, as a milliner's apprentice should do. Her eyes were of the deepest blue of the June sky after a fine shower, not that showers often visited her brilliant orbs, for she was as happy-hearted as a child, and to sing all day long was as natural to her as to the robin red-breast—at least it was until she became a milliner's apprentice, when she was forbid to sing by her austere mistress, as if a maiden's fingers would not move as nimbly with a cheerful carol on her tongue. Her smile was like light, it was so beaming; and then it was so full of sweetness, and gentle-heartedness! It was delightful to watch her fine face with a smile mantling its classical features, and her coral lips just parted showing the most beautiful teeth in the world. One could not but fall in love with her outright at sight— yet there was a certain elevated purity and dignity about her that checked lightness or thought of evil in relation to her.
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15Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Herman de Ruyter  
 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 a few minutes past nine o'clock three evenings previous to the sudden disappearance of the beautiful `Cigar-Vender,' whose adventurous life, up to that time, has afforded us the subject of a former Tale, when the keeper of a miserable book-stall situated in a narrow thoroughfare leading from Pearl into Chatham street, prepared to close his stall for the night. His stall consisted of some rude shelfs placed against the wall of a low and wretched habitation, with a sunken door on one side of the shelves by which he had ingress from the side-walk into a dark narrow apartment that served him as a dwelling-place. There were shelves against the street wall on both sides of his door, a board placed in front of which, encroaching about two feet upon the pavement formed a sort of counter. It was supported at each end by rough empty boxes, in the cavity of one of which, upon a bundle of straw as it stood on end, facing inward, lay a small, ugly shock-dog with a black turn-up nose, and most fiery little gray eyes. In the opposite box, vis-a-vis to the little spiteful dog crouched a monstrous white Tom cat, with great green eyes, and a visage quite as savage as that of a panther. Thus with the counter and the boxes supporting it, the keeper was enclosed in a sort of ingeniously constructed shop, which he had contrived to cover by a strip of canvass, which served as a shade from the sun as well as a shelter from the storms. The contents of his shelves presented to the passer-by a singular assemblage of old books, pamphlets, songs, pictures of pirates and buccaneers hung in yellow-painted frames; two-penny portraits of murderers and other distinguished characters in this line, with ferocious full lengths of General Jackson, and Col. Johnson killing Tecumseh! Rolls of ballads, piles of sailor's songs of the last war, last dying speeches and lives of celebrated criminals, were strewn upon the counter, to which was added a goodly assortment of children's picture books and toys. Cigars and even candy were displayed to tempt the various tastes of the passers-by, and even gay ribbons, something faded, exposed in a pasteboard box were offered as a net to catch the fancy of the females who might glance that way.
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16Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The Spanish galleon, or, The pirate of the Mediterranean  
 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 opening scene of our story is laid in the Mediterranean Sea in the month of June, 1700. One clear, cloudless morning, towards the latter end of this month, the rising sun, himself yet unseen beneath the ocean, was just touching the skyey outline of the bold summits of the Corsican Sierras with a bright edge of gold. As each moment he rose higher and higher, the darkness fled from the hollows and coverts of the mountain-sides into the sea, revealing first the towers and turrets of a convent perched upon a pinnacle; then, lower down, a walled monastery with its hanging gardens; then a fortress with battlements and embrasures frowning above the waves; and still lower, on the very verge of the sea, the hut of the fisherman! As the bays and inlets caught the morning beams, the fisher's light craft with its long latteen yard across was seen idly anchored near his door, or sluggishly getting underweigh and moving under oars towards the open sea. In one of the inlets of the cliff-bound shore, into which the beams of the morning penetrated, lay moored close in with the towering rock, a large vessel of about four hundred tons. The little bay in which she was sheltered, was about two leagues to the northward of a considerable port on the east side of the Island of Corsica; half a league from her position was a convent surrounded by high and snow-white walls; and on the mountain side, almost above her, stood a monastery half in ruins, yet inhabited. Perched here and there upon a low, rocky projection stood a solitary fisherman's cot, and the jagged peaks of the Sierras, elevated in the distance, formed a bold back-ground to the scene. The vessel in question seemed to have taken up the most advantageous position within the inlet for security, not only from any sudden storm, but from the observation of any vessels which sailed past outside; for unless they fairly entered the narrow bay, and turned sharp to the left, they could not have discovered that it contained any thing besides the half a score of fishing boats which usually belonged in its waters. It is my painful duty to communicate to your Highness, the loss, by capture, in our bay of El Gancho on the morning of the 25th instant, of Your Majesty's Galleon `La Reina Isabel.' This ship was driven into the Mediterranean by an adverse gale and afterwards prevented by a corsair from regaining her port, being chased until she run for shelter, three nights ago into our secluded bay. Here she was attacked and defended with great courage, so that she sunk the corsair's vessel, who boarded the Galleon in boats, and after a hard fight succeeded in capturing her. Among the slain were the captain with all his officers, and El Escelentissimo Senor Don Ferdinand de Garcia, who with his daughter were passengers. Previous to the attack, Don Ferdinand removed for safe keeping to our priory, one million of specie belonging to your majesty, which I hold in trust at your majesty's command. He left on board the galleon half a million which there was not time to remove, which fell into the hands of the corsair Kidd, who has possessed himself of the captured vessel and, after repairing her, sailed from the island in her, doubtless bent on further deeds of rapine. Sir,—By command of His Majesty, I enclose you a despatch to the captains or commanders of any vessels of war lying in the port of Gibraltar, Spain, or Kingston in Jamaica, or wherever these despatches may find them, to put themselves under your directions, for the purpose expressed in their instructions, viz: the capture of the freebooter, William Kidd, and bringing him (if possible) to trial, in this our England. Trusting that you will be successful in taking him, through the aid of His Majesty's vessels of war, and that you will prove yourself worthy in all respects of the confidence His Majesty has graciously seen fit to repose in you, I am, &c. &c. Sir;—You are hereby desired to furnish such information respecting British vessels in your waters, as the bearer, Mr. Belfort, may have occasion to require on the secret service in which he is engaged, and also to further his purposes, which he will make known to you, with every aid at your command.
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17Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Freemantle, or, The privateersman!  
 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 scenes of the following story are laid about the beautiful shores and among the pleasant islands of Boston Bay, near the close of the last war with Great Britain. This contest, it will be remembered, was remarkably characterised for the great number, boldness and success of the privateers which sailed out of the New England ports and covered every sea whitened by British commerce. `Hebert Vincent, late midshipman in the Navy of the United States, having deserted his ship at Newport, is dismissed from the service; his expulsion to take effect from the 14th inst.
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18Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Grace Weldon, or Frederica, the bonnet-girl  
 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 conclusion of one of those little romances, hardly to be dignified by the name of novels, which, during the past year, we have thrown off from the press, we promised one day a continuation. In that romance, which bore the title of `Jemmy Daily,' we took juvenile subjects, and brought them forward to the verge of manhood, leaving them just as they were about entering into the whirl of life. The numerous applications from `little folk,' that we have since been honored with, to redeem our promise to write a sequel, we cannot well resist any longer; and hereby prepare to make good our pledge. We shall begin our story by introducing, for the benefit of those who have not seen `Jemmy Daily,' the concluding paragraph of that work. It is as follows: `I have received a line from James, saying he is not well. Be so kind as to go and see him, and let me know how he is, and if he wants any thing to be done for him, and send me word. His absence confines me to the counting-room. His mother lives at No. — Washington street, below Summer. It is but a step. `Dear Sir, — As you have been so obliging as to pay once or twice my checks for large over-drafts at your counter, you will oblige me by paying this at sight, though I am aware I have but a trifle set to my credit on the bank books. To-morrow I will deposite the full amount. I should not presume upon this liberty but for my knowledge of your former indulgence, when I have carelessly overdrawn. Trusting the same confidence in me will now prevent this from being returned “without funds,” I enclose it by my usual bank clerk. An unexpected negotiation I have entered into since drawing out the one thousand dollars, compels me to anticipate in this manner the morrow's deposits. `Sir, — I feel it my duty to caution you against paying any checks offered you, professing to be drawn by W. Weldon, merchant, on Central Wharf, as in all likelihood such checks will prove to be forgeries, if offered to you by Mr. Weldon's head clerk, or by a lad with light hair and blue eyes, whom he has selected to present them, as resembling Mr. Weldon's son. My motive in warning you proceeds from the dictates of a troubled conscience, for I have been a guilty participator in the crime of deceiving you, with Mr. Daily, the clerk alluded to; but I can no longer be so, and be happy. James Daily began his operations by employing the lad you have so often seen, and who will present you a forged check, this morning, for twenty-five hundred dollars, which I hope you will not have paid ere this caution reaches you. He began, I say, about three weeks ago, by engaging a shrewd youth to act for him, and present the checks. The reason why, after overdrawing, he paid back again the overplus, was to deceive the bank into security, and blind you! This was done twice. In both cases it was the part of a subtle plot, deeply laid by Daily, for reaping, by-and-bye, a rich harvest. Of the last draft, for eleven hundred, which this upright clerk forged, and the lad presented, only one thousand were re-deposited, as you will recollect, one hundred being kept back by him. This was only the first picking of Daily's harvest, which he promised to himself. He had now got you familiar with his clerk's face, (the blue-eyed lad,) and had lulled your fears, by promptly depositing when over-checking. It now remained for him to pursue the play in his own way. All he would have to do, when he wanted funds for his private purposes, to pay gambling debts, &c., was to draw a check on your bank, send it by the youth, receive the money, and then so manage that Mr. Weldon would be kept in ignorance of the diminution of his funds. This was, and is his plan. And, as the first fruits of it, he has this morning showed me a draft (forged) for twenty-five hundred dollars, every dollar of which he intends to defraud the bank of; and as I know his next checks will be much larger, and as I tremble for the consequences to myself and brother, (for the lad he has beguiled is my brother,) I have thought it best to inform the bank in season, hoping, that should any steps be taken against James Daily, and he should implicate my brother, that he, as well as I, may be passed over, by reason of his youth, and my present voluntary information given to the bank.
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19Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Montezuma, the serf, or, The revolt of the Mexitili  
 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: `Stand aside, serf!' were the stern tones of an officer, addressed to a youth. While these events were transpiring within the palace, scenes of an opposite character were opening in the net-marker's quarter, and the neighborhood of the street of the Armorers. In a few minutes after parting with Casipeti at the palace-stairs, Montezuma landed on the opposite shore, at the foot of his own street. He entered his dwelling, to see if by chance any of his friends were there, and to leave a word of warning with Fatziza. He then hastened towards the arsenal, which Sismarqui had been ordered to seize, and the garrison of which his brother, who was one of the soldiers, had succeeded in corrupting. This he felt was the most important point to visit first, as it contained nearly all the weapons with which the revolters were to arm themselves. `Nephew, — The gods gave you life to elevate you, by its proper use, to equality, after death, with themselves. You have defeated this intention of your existence. The deity waits to receive back the gift of which you have proved yourself unworthy. Degraded, dishonored, and despised, you can no longer wish to live, and, like a brave man, have professed your desire to die. This last virtuous wish, unhappy prince, I have seen fit to enable you to fulfil, although, if I measured your punishment by your guilt, I should condemn you to live. May the river of death purify thy soul, and may the gods yet grant you to begin a new existence in another state! Thou wilt find the last best gift of heaven to man that hath outlived his honor, in the cup I send thee! I commend thee to the gods.
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20Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Neal Nelson  
 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 early in the beginning of that memorable contest which dismembered a powerful and splendid empire,' and to which a brave people were driven by the oppressive measures of the British ministry, that the following story opens. A commander-in-chief cannot be too cautious whom he employs about his person and makes confidants of his plans and purposes; especially in the position you are in, surrounded by enemies whom you have no means of knowing are other than they seem. The writer need not apprize you that the romantic notions of liberty and independence have seized upon the minds of more than one youth in the British army and that they have become disloyal to their king and taken arms with the rebels! It will not therefore so much surprise you to learn the disaffection and disloyalty of one near your own person and related to you by ties of consanquinity. I allude to Neal Nelson, against whom I deem it my duty to put you on your guard. I recommend to you to observe closely his conduct, and watch him when he absents himself from head quarters. It is easy for a traitor who has the pass word to go out and in the city at will. A word to the wise is enough; and General Howe is known not to be wanting in wisdom.'
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