| | 102 | Author: | Ward
Artemus
1834-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Artemus Ward's panorama  | | | | 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: | YOU are entirely welcome ladies and gentlemen
to my little picture-shop.1
1 “My little picture-shop.”—I have already stated that the
room used was the lesser of the two on the first-floor of the
Egyptian Hall. The panorama was to the left on entering,
and Artemus Ward stood at the south-east corner facing the
door. He had beside him a music-stand, on which for the
first few days he availed himself of the assistance afforded by
a sheet of foolscap on which all his “cues” were written out
in a large hand. The proscenium was covered with dark
cloth, and the picture bounded by a great gilt frame. On the
rostrum behind the lecturer was a little door giving admission
to the space behind the picture where the piano was placed.
Through this door Artemus would disappear occasionally in
the course of the evening, either to instruct his pianist to play
a few more bars of music, to tell his assistants to roll the
picture more quickly or more slowly, or to give some instructions
to the man who worked “the moon.” The little
lecture-room was thronged nightly during the very few
weeks of its being open.
My dear Sir,—My wife was dangerously unwell for over sixteen
years. She was so weak that she could not lift a teaspoon to her mouth.
But in a fortunate moment she commenced reading one of your lectures.
She got better at once. She gained strength so rapidly that she lifted the
cottage piano quite a distance from the floor, and then tipped it over on
to her mother-in-law, with whom she had had some little trouble. We
like your lectures very much. Please send me a barrel of them. If you
should require any more recommendations, you can get any number of
them in this place, at two shillings each, the price I charge for this one,
and I trust you may be ever happy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 104 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Add | | | Title: | Clara Moreland, or, Adventures in the far South-west | | | | 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: | The first of October, of the year of our Lord 1845,
found me a guest of the Tremont House, in the goodly city
of Galveston, Texas. An invalid guest, I may add—for I
had been confined to my room for some days, suffering
much pain from a couple of flesh wounds received in a
recent skirmish with a party of Texan brigands, somewhere
between my present abode and the river Brazos,
while in the act of making my escape with some friends
from the head-quarters of a notorious villain, counterfeiter,
etcetera, known as Count D'Estang. The reader
who has been so fortunate, or unfortunate, (I leave him to
decide which,) as to peruse a portion of my narrative, under
the title of “Viola,” will readily understand to what I
allude; but in order to refresh his memory with the past
events of my career, and also give those before whom I
may now appear for the first time an inkling of what has
already been recorded of my adventures, I will here transcribe
a letter, which about this period I wrote home to
my worthy parent in Virginia: “In my last, dated at New Orleans, you will recollect I
made some mention of a very eccentric travelling companion,
by the name of Harley, who, having been introduced
to me one night at a ball in Swansdown, renewed acquaintance
on the boat at Louisville, and kept me company down
the river; and I think I also added, that we had in contemplation
a trip to Mexico, merely to gratify curiosity and
have some adventures. Well, we have not been to Mexico
as yet—but we have had some adventures notwithstanding.
If memory serves me right, I told you there was a certain
mystery about my friend—for even then I regarded him as
such—which I had not been able to fathom; but this has
since been explained away, and I now know his whole
history. “I have just received a letter from home, which requires
my presence there immediately. My poor father has been
taken suddenly ill, and is not expected to recover. I shall
leave to-day for Macon, via Savannah, taking Viola with
me, to whom I now expect my friends to be reconciled,
since the blood of the St. Auburns is not in her veins. As
I cannot fix on any time for my return, you had better not
wait for me; but write to Macon, and keep me advised of
your whereabouts. It grieves me to part with so dear a
friend—but necessity compels me. Can you not come to
Macon? Think of it seriously—I will assure you of a
cordial reception. Dear Viola, with tearful eyes, sends
her love to you. Do not fail to write, and keep me
advised of your doings; and believe me, my dear Harry, “Pardon my seeming uncourteousness of last night! I
was agitated, and troubled, but not without cause. After
what has already passed between us, I think it no more
than right that I should, to some extent, give you the explanation
you desired. This cannot be done in the presence
of a third party; and I must entreat you not to mention
aught of last night's interview to any one! Destroy this
as soon as read! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 105 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Add | | | Title: | The phantom of the forest | | | | 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: | Probably no region of the globe ever presented
more attractions to the genuine hunter and lover of
the backwoods, than the territory known as Kentucky
previous to its settlement by the race that
now holds possession of its soil. Its location, happily
intermediate between the extremes of heat and cold,
afforded a most congenial climate; its surface was
diversified by steep hills and deep valleys, stupendous
cliffs and marshy levels, dense woods and flowery
glades, immense caverns and tangled brakes, large
streams and wonderful licks; and hither came all the
beasts of the forest, to roam in unrestrained freedom
through wilds seldom trod by human feet, and gay-plumed
songsters from every region swept along the
balmy air and made the sylvan retreats ring with
their silvery strains. When first discovered by the
white man, no human beings claimed ownership of
this enchanting land. The red man of the North,
and the red man of the South, came here to hunt and
fight; but the victor bore off his spoils, and the vanquished
went back in dismay, and neither put up
his wigwam on the neutral ground. For years after
its discovery by the white man, Kentucky could not
boast a hundred of the race within its borders; but
then the tide of emigration set in strongly toward
this western land of promise, and a few years more
beheld its broad surface dotted here and there with
the rude fortresses and dwellings of incipient civilization.
Every step forward, however, was marked
with blood. The red man was jealous of the white,
and there was for a long period an almost continuous,
fierce, and sanguinary struggle for the mastery;
while the midnight yells, the wailing shrieks and
the burning homes, too often proclaimed the horrid
work of death and desolation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 106 | Author: | Jacobs
Harriet A.
(Harriet Ann)
1813-1897 | Add | | | Title: | Incidents in the life of a slave girl | | | | 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: | I was born a slave; but I never knew it till six
years of happy childhood had passed away. My father
was a carpenter, and considered so intelligent and
skilful in his trade, that, when buildings out of the
common line were to be erected, he was sent for from
long distances, to be head workman. On condition
of paying his mistress two hundred dollars a year, and
supporting himself, he was allowed to work at his
trade, and manage his own affairs. His strongest
wish was to purchase his children; but, though he
several times offered his hard earnings for that purpose,
he never succeeded. In complexion my parents
were a light shade of brownish yellow, and were
termed mulattoes. They lived together in a comfortable
home; and, though we were all slaves, I was so
fondly shielded that I never dreamed I was a piece
of merchandise, trusted to them for safe keeping, and
liable to be demanded of them at any moment. I had
one brother, William, who was two years younger
than myself — a bright, affectionate child. I had also
a great treasure in my maternal grandmother, who
was a remarkable woman in many respects. She was
the daughter of a planter in South Carolina, who, at
his death, left her mother and his three children free,
with money to go to St. Augustine, where they had
relatives. It was during the Revolutionary War; and
they were captured on their passage, carried back, and
sold to different purchasers. Such was the story my
grandmother used to tell me; but I do not remember
all the particulars. She was a little girl when she was
captured and sold to the keeper of a large hotel. I
have often heard her tell how hard she fared during
childhood. But as she grew older she evinced so
much intelligence, and was so faithful, that her master
and mistress could not help seeing it was for their
interest to take care of such a valuable piece of property.
She became an indispensable personage in the
household, officiating in all capacities, from cook and
wet nurse to seamstress. She was much praised for
her cooking; and her nice crackers became so famous
in the neighborhood that many people were desirous
of obtaining them. In consequence of numerous requests
of this kind, she asked permission of her mistress
to bake crackers at night, after all the household
work was done; and she obtained leave to do it, provided
she would clothe herself and her children from
the profits. Upon these terms, after working hard all
day for her mistress, she began her midnight bakings,
2
assisted by her two oldest children. The business
proved profitable; and each year she laid by a little,
which was saved for a fund to purchase her children.
Her master died, and the property was divided among
his heirs. The widow had her dower in the hotel,
which she continued to keep open. My grandmother
remained in her service as a slave; but her children
were divided among her master's children. As she
had five, Benjamin, the youngest one, was sold, in
order that each heir might have an equal portion of
dollars and cents. There was so little difference in
our ages that he seemed more like my brother than
my uncle. He was a bright, handsome lad, nearly
white; for he inherited the complexion my grandmother
had derived from Anglo-Saxon ancestors.
Though only ten years old, seven hundred and twenty
dollars were paid for him. His sale was a terrible
blow to my grandmother; but she was naturally hopeful,
and she went to work with renewed energy, trusting
in time to be able to purchase some of her children.
She had laid up three hundred dollars, which her
mistress one day begged as a loan, promising to pay
her soon. The reader probably knows that no promise
or writing given to a slave is legally binding; for,
according to Southern laws, a slave, being property,
can hold no property. When my grandmother lent
her hard earnings to her mistress, she trusted solely
to her honor. The honor of a slaveholder to a slave! “$300 Reward! Ran away from the subscriber,
an intelligent, bright, mulatto girl, named Linda, 21
years of age. Five feet four inches high. Dark
eyes, and black hair inclined to curl; but it can
be made straight. Has a decayed spot on a front
tooth. She can read and write, and in all probability
will try to get to the Free States. All persons are forbidden,
under penalty of the law, to harbor or employ
said slave. $150 will be given to whoever takes her
in the state, and $300 if taken out of the state and
delivered to me, or lodged in jail. “Dear Grandmother: I have long wanted to write
to you; but the disgraceful manner in which I left you
and my children made me ashamed to do it. If you
knew how much I have suffered since I ran away, you
would pity and forgive me. I have purchased freedom
at a dear rate. If any arrangement could be
made for me to return to the south without being a
slave, I would gladly come. If not, I beg of you to
send my children to the north. I cannot live any
longer without them. Let me know in time, and I
will meet them in New York or Philadelphia, whichever
place best suits my uncle's convenience. Write
as soon as possible to your unhappy daughter, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 107 | Author: | Child
Lydia Maria Francis
1802-1880 | Add | | | Title: | Autumnal leaves | | | | 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: | “What a remarkably pretty girl Mrs. Barton
has for a nursery maid,” said Mrs. Vernon to her
daughter. “Forgive me for venturing to call you so. I
am compelled to depart for Italy to-morrow; and
that must be my excuse. I have reflected much
upon the subject, and young as I am, I feel that it
is my duty not to refuse the eligible situation my
relatives have procured for me. It has given me
great pain to come to this conclusion; but I console
myself with the reflection that some day or other,
I shall be free to follow my own inclinations. I
can never forget you, never cease to love you; and
I cannot part without saying farewell, and conjuring
you to cherish the memory of the blissful moments
we have passed together. Do ask Mrs. Barton
to allow me an hour's interview with you this
evening. She and your mother can both be present,
if they think proper. They will see by this
3
request that my views are honourable, and my professions
sincere. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 108 | Author: | Twain
Mark
1835-1910 | Add | | | Title: | A book for an hour | | | | 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: | CONTAINING A MORAL. “ `Gentlemen,—What the mischief do you
suppose you want with a post-office
at Baldwin's Ranch? It would not do you any good. If any letters came there,
you
could'nt read them, you know; and, besides, such letters as ought to pass
through
with money in them, for other localities, would not be likely to get through, you must
perceive at once; and that would make trouble for us all. No, don't bother about
a
post-office in your camp. I have your best interests at heart, and feel that it
would
only be an ornamental folly. What you want is a nice jail, you know—a nice
substantial
jail and a free school. These will be a lasting benefit to you.
These will make
you really contented and happy. I will move in the matter at once. Gentlemen,—You will have to go to the State
Legislature about that speculation of
yours—Congress don't know anything about religion. But don't you hurry to
go there,
either; because this thing you propose to do out in that new country isn't
expedient—in
fact, it is ridiculous. Your religious people there are too feeble, in
intellect, in morality,
in piety—in everything, pretty much. You had better drop this—you
can't make it work.
You can't issue stock on an incorporation like that—or if you could, it
would only keep
you in trouble all the time. The other denominations would abuse it, and
“bear” it,
and “sell it short,” and break it down. They would do with it just
as they would with
one of your silvermines out there—they would try to make all the world
believe it was
“wildcat.” You ought not to do anything that is calculated to bring
a sacred thing into
disrepute. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves—that is what
I think about it.
You close your petition with the words: `And we will ever pray.' I think you
had
better—you need to do it. “ `Gentlemen,—George Washington, the
revered Father of his Country, is dead.
His long and brilliant career is closed, alas! for ever. He was greatly
respected in this
section of the country, and his untimely decease cast a gloom over the whole
community.
He died on the 14th day of December, 1799. He passed peacefully away from the
scene
of his honors and his great achievements, the most lamented hero and the best
beloved
that ever earth hath yielded unto Death. At such a time as this you speak of
water-lots!
—what a lot was his! “ `Gentlemen,—It is a delicate question
about this Indian trail, but, handled with
proper deftness and dubiousness, I doubt not we shall succeed in some measure or
otherwise,
because the place where the route leaves the Lassen Meadows, over
beyond where
those two Shawnee chiefs, Dilapidated-Vengeance and Biter-of-the-Clouds, were
scalped
last winter, this being the favorite direction to some, but others preferring
something else
in consequence of things, the Mormon trail leaving Mosby's at three in the
morning, and
passing through Jawbone Flat to Blucher, and then down by Jug-Handle, the road
passing
to the right of it, and naturally leaving it on the right too, and
Dawson's on the
left of the trail where it passes to the left of said Dawson's, and onward
thence to
Tomahawk, thus making the route cheaper, easier of access to all who can get at
it and
compassing all the desirable objects so considered by others, and, therefore,
conferring
the most good upon the greatest number, and, consequently, I am encouraged to
hope
we shall. However, I shall be ready, and happy, to afford you still futher information
upon the subject, from to time, as you may desire it and the Post
Office Department
be enabled to furnish it to me. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 110 | Author: | Twain
Mark
1835-1910 | Add | | | Title: | Mark Twain's sketches, new and old | | | | 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: | 503EAF. Page 017. In-line image of Mark Twain standing at the
counter of a jeweler. The jeweler is examining Twain's watch with a
magnifying glass, as Twain looks on uncomfortably.
“`Gentlemen: What the mischief do you suppose you want with a post-office at Baldwin's
Ranche? It would not do you any good. If any letters came there, you couldn't read them, you
know; and, besides, such letters as ought to pass through, with money in them, for other localities,
would not be likely to get through, you must perceive at once; and that would make trouble for us
all. No, don't bother about a post-office in your camp. I have your best interests at heart, and
feel that it would only be an ornamental folly. What you want is a nice jail, you know—a nice, substantial
jail and a free school. These will be a lasting benefit to you. These will make you really
contented and happy. I will move in the matter at once. “`Gentlemen: You will have to go to the State Legislature about that speculation of yours—
Congress don't know anything about religion. But don't you hurry to go there, either; because this
thing you propose to do out in that new country isn't expedient—in fact, it is ridiculous. Your
religious people there are too feeble, in intellect, in morality, in piety—in everything, pretty much.
You had better drop this—you can't make it work. You can't issue stock on an incorporation like
that—or if you could, it would only keep you in trouble all the time. The other denominations
would abuse it, and “bear” it, and “sell it short,” and break it down. They would do with it just
as they would with one of your silver mines out there—they would try to make all the world believe
it was “wildcat.” You ought not to do anything that is calculated to bring a sacred thing into
disrepute. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves—that is what I think about it. You close your
petition with the words: “And we will ever pray.” I think you had better—you need to do it. “`Gentlemen: George Washington, the revered Father of his Country is dead. His long and
brilliant career is closed, alas! forever. He was greatly respected in this section of the country,
and his untimely decease cast a gloom over the whole community. He died on the 14th day of
December, 1799. He passed peacefully away from the scene of his honors and his great achievements,
the most lamented hero and the best beloved that ever earth hath yielded unto Death. At
such a time as this, you speak of water-lots!—what a lot was his! “`Gentlemen: It is a delicate question about this Indian trail, but, handled with proper deftness
and dubiousness, I doubt not we shall succeed in some measure or otherwise, because the
place where the route leaves the Lassen Meadows, over beyond where those two Shawnee chiefs,
Dilapidated-Vengeance and Biter-of-the-Clouds, were scalped last winter, this being the favorite
direction to some, but others preferring something else in consequence of things, the Mormon
trail leaving Mosby's at three in the morning, and passing through Jawbone Flat to Blucher, and
then down by Jug-Handle, the road passing to the right of it, and naturally leaving it on the right,
too, and Dawson's on the left of the trail where it passes to the left of said Dawson's and onward
thence to Tomahawk, thus making the route cheaper, easier of access to all who can get at it, and
compassing all the desirable objects so considered by others, and, therefore, conferring the most
good upon the greatest number, and, consequently, I am encouraged to hope we shall. However,
I shall be ready, and happy, to afford you still further information upon the subject, from time to
time, as you may desire it and the Post-office Department be enabled to furnish it to me. Whereas, The Constitution guarantees equal rights to all, backed by the Declaration
of Independence; and | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 111 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Doctor Vandyke | | | | 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: | A man was sitting in a house on Gloucester
Street, in Williamsburg, Virginia,
about a hundred years ago, busy at a
very singular employment. “My dear Lord: I have the honor
to say that I have received your note of
yesterday, informing me of your desire
to return to Scotland, but I trust 'tis not
essential to your plans, or required by
circumstances, that this departure should
be so very sudden. 'Twill subject me, I
fear, to serious inconvenience, as I highly
appreciate your services, my lord,
and should with difficulty supply your
place. “My Lord: You have twice, with
great courtesy, expressed your good-wishes,
in bidding me farewell—it is I
who go from Williamsburg the first, now:
and I can do no less than reciprocate
your lordship's obliging sentiments, and
express the hope that you may enjoy
health and happiness, whether in Virginia
or in Scotland. “Sir: May I beg you to do me the
honor to visit me at my house between
the hour of noon and one o'clock to-day?
An affair of a very extraordinary character
renders your presence desirable,
and I beg that you will not fail to be
present at the hour named. “I am about to leave Virginia forever;
but, before I go, I must see you
once more, or die of despair. I cannot
enter Rivanna, as one of the wedding-guests,
and witness your marriage. That
would kill me, or drive me to some act
of madness which would but make you
still more unhappy. Devise some other
means—at the hour and spot you fix, I
will be present. “I cannot escape from the company
until to-morrow night — my wedding-night.
Come, then, to the oak-tree—
where—that day—O me! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 112 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Ellie, or, The human comedy | | | | 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: | “Sir: You were guilty of an offence and an insult toward
me this morning, which your blood or my own will answer.
I told you as much, and I now repeat, that nothing but
the amplest satisfaction will suffice. You shall learn, sir,
that I am not to be thwarted with impunity—and Captain
Tarnish, the bearer of this note, will make the arrangements
for the meeting. Should you refuse, as I expect, I
will publish your name as coward! coward! coward!
mark me, sir! “Mr. Sansoucy will very much oblige me by releasing
me from my promise to accompany him to the opera to-night.
I feel as if I should not be able to enjoy it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 113 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Fairfax, or, The master of Greenway Court | | | | 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: | ON an evening of October, in the year 1748, the
slopes of the Blue Ridge at Ashby's Gap were all
ablaze with the red light of the sinking sun. “Mr. Falconbridge:—After much doubt I address you,
to warn you, as a friend, against allowing your affections to be ensnared
by Miss B. Argal. I have no right, sir, to pry into your matters, and
maybe I will get no thanks, but your courtesy to me makes it impossible
for me to see you duped. Captain Wagner will not speak out—he
says that he has already said more than he had a right to—and I will,
therefore, do so myself. The paper which I put in this letter will tell
you all. The poor young man was a distant relative of mine, and died
at my house. He wrote the paper just before his death. I will add no
more, except that I have no private grudge against Miss Argal, and so
remain, “I am about to commit suicide. Before putting an end to my miserable
life, I will relate the circumstances which impel me to the act. My
mind is perfectly sane, my memory good—I will speak calmly. This is
my history: “The poor young man was found dead when we ran at
the explosion of his pistol. This paper was lying on the
table. Mr. Harley Austin returned it to me, not wishing to
keep it; he has since left the country.” “I desire, and if necessary require that the prisoner Powell may be
treated with all respect, and especially brought to Court without hand-cuffs. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 114 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Hammer and rapier | | | | 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: | On the night of the 17th of July, 1861, a man,
standing upon the earthworks at Manassas, was looking
toward Centreville. “If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg,” wrote
Lincoln, “and the tail of it on the Plank Road between
Fredericksburg and Chancellorville, the animal must
be very slim somewhere—could you not break him? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 115 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Henry St. John, gentleman, of "Flower of Hundreds," in the county of Prince George, Virginia | | | | 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: | It is a beautiful May morning, in the year 1774. I desire to be informed why you have not written to
me, madam? Has that odious domestic tyrant, Mr. Willie,
forbidden you to correspond with your friends? You may
inform him, with my compliments, that I regard him in the
light of a monster, an ogre, an eastern despot, else he would
not keep the dearest girl in the world down at that horrid
old house in Glo'ster—if it is so fine—when her friends are
dying to see her. “Give my love to Mr. Willie, and write soon, my precious
Kate. How I love you! Won't you come soon? Do,
there's a dear! Vanely's looking beautiful with green
leaves, and I long to see you, to hear your dear, kind laugh,
and kiss you to my heart's content! Tom Alston said, the
other day, that I reminded him frequently of you. I could
have run and kissed him, I assure you. “I thought I should have died of laughing, Kate!
He drove up to the door in his little sulky, with the pretty
bay trotter, and got out with as easy and careless an air as if
nothing at all had happened on his last visit. I think he is
the most delightfully cool personage I've ever known, and
were I one of the medical profession, I should prescribe for the
spleen or melancholy, a single dose of Mr. Thomas Alston!
His demeanor to sister Helen all day was really enchanting.
The most critical observer could not have discerned a shade
of embarrassment on his part. At first she was very much
put out, but I believe she ended by laughing—at least I saw
her smile. He inquired how Miss Helen had been since he
had last the pleasure of seeing her; he was happy to say
that his own health and spirits had been excellent! “I am just getting into the saddle for Williamsburg,
but write to say that Serapis won the purse. He was nearly
distanced the first heat, but won the two others over every
horse upon the ground. He's worth a thousand pounds. “Sir:—The accompanying verses are sent to you by a
Country Girl, who hopes they will meet your Approval.
Your Correspondent withholds her Name from Fear of the
Criticks, whom she truly detests. They're an odious Set!
are they not, Mr. Purdie? A Portion of the Effusion may
make you laugh, Sir. I offer you a Salute to bribe you in
Favour of my Verses; but observe, Sir! 't is only when you
find me out! That I'm resolved you shall never do. All
I shall say is, that I've the Honour to be humble Cousin to a
very high Military Functionary of this Colony, who honours
me with his Esteem! Now do print my effusion, dear, good
Mr. Purdie. I like you so much because you are a true
Friend to the Cause of Liberty. We've sealed up all our
Tea, and I'd walk with bare Feet on hot Ploughshares before
I'd drink a drop of the odious Stuff! “Papa bids me write to your lordship, and say that you
need not trouble yourself to engage apartments for us at
Mrs. White's, on the night of assembly, as Mr. Burwell has
invited us all to stay with him at his town residence, and I
know somebody who's as glad as glad can be, for she'll see
her dear Belle-Bouche—Miss Burwell once, but now unhappily
a victim on the altar of matrimony.†
† Ibid., No. XV.
“Well, Tom, I've got my quietus. You've the pleasure
of hearing from a young gentleman who's just been discarded! “Your letter really astonished me, my dear boy—it did,
upon my word. You will permit me to observe that you
are really the most unreasonable and exacting of all the
lovers that I've read of, from the time of Achilles to the
present hour. “I send you the contents of your memorandum, as far
as I could procure the articles, and am sorry to hear that
you are indisposed. I trust 't is but trifling. I might beg
your pardon for detaining Dick, and for sending an inferior
quality of hair powder, but I have been too much troubled
to have my right wits about me. “Most beloved of friends, and estimable of gentlemen,
but also most superstitutious of correspondents, and strangest
of Sancti Johannes! I have perused thy letter with abundant
laughter, and return unto thee my most grateful thanks
for dissipating a catarrh which has troubled me this fortnight! “Your letter, my dear friend, was scarcely different from
what I expected. I was perfectly well aware of the fact
that my account of the singular influence I experienced
would excite rather laughter than sympathy, and I even
add that your reply contained less of banter than I expected. “I HAVE followed your advice, and made the journey
which you suggested, carrying with me the letter, and intending
to add what you advised me to add to my address. “Is it wrong for me to write to you? We were cousins
once, with some affection for each other—I at least for you.
I do not add that we have ever been any thing more, for
that would doubtless wound and offend you. I would not
wound or offend you; I am too unhappy to think of reproaches.
Once I might have given way to my passionate
temperament, and uttered wild words; now I have no
such words to utter. I acquiesce in all you do and say,
and scarcely dare to write these lines—to my cousin, as it
were. “I have received your strange letter, in which you speak
of our union, and your plans in making additions to you residence,
suggested, you say, by myself. It was not my intention
to make such suggestions, and I hope the addition
will be stopped. At least I do not wish you to indulge the
hope that I shall ever become its inmate. “'Tis so long since I've written to my Kate that she
must almost have forgotten me. But you will not think,
my dear, that this silence has proceeded from forgetfulness;
that is not possible toward the dearest girl in the world. “Doncastle's Ordinary, New Kent, May 4, 1775. Received
from the Hon. Richard Corbin, Esq., his Majesty's
Receiver-General, 330l., as a compensation for the gunpowder
lately taken out of the public magazine by the Governor's
order, which money I promise to convey to the Virginia
delegates at the general congress, to be, under their direction,
laid out in gunpowder for the colony's use, and to be
stored as they shall direct until the next colony convention
or general assembly, unless it shall be necessary, in the meantime,
to use the same in the defense of this colony. It is
agreed that, in case the next convention shall determine
that any part of the said money ought to be returned to his
Majesty's said Receiver-General, that the same shall be done
accordingly. “How long it seems now since I've written to my own
dear Kate! I received, more than three weeks since, your
kind, sweet letter, and only my unhappiness has prevented
me from replying. You may not consider this a good reason,
but it is true. When we suffer little sorrows, and are
sad only, then we fly to our friends and unbosom ourselves,
and the act brings us consolation. This is not the case, I
think, when we are deeply wounded, as I am. I ask only
silence and quiet, for nothing relieves me, not even writing
to my Kate! “In my last letter, dear Kate, I told you I was coming
hither in search of some color for my cheeks. I am sorry
to say I've not found it. I think the air's not as wholesome
to me as that of Prince George, and in a day or two I
shall set out on my return to Vanely. “I have looked everywhere to find you, friend, having,
by a strange chance, received what I know is of importance
to you. 'Tis a letter which, with this, I entrust to my
child, having an instant call away; my foot is in the stirrup.
'T will reach you in time, however, I do not doubt, for
20*
Blossom has the unerring instinct of affection, to which I
trust. “The words which you are about to read come from
one who has been guilty of deception, treachery, forgery
and robbery, and therefore at first you may not give credit
to my statements. Before I have finished what I design
writing, however, you will give implicit credence to what
I say. ... “God bless you, my dear child! and grant that we may
again meet, in your native country, as freemen; otherwise, that we
never see each other more, is the prayer of ... “I conjure you as you value the liberties and rights of the
community of which you are a member, not to lose a moment, and
in my name, if my name is of consequence enough, to direct the commanding
officer of your troops at Annapolis, immediately to seize the
person of Governor Eden; the sin and blame be on my head. I will
answer for all to the Congress.... God Almighty give us wisdom
and vigor in this hour of trial. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 117 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Hilt to hilt, or, Days and nights on the banks of the Shenandoah in the autumn of 1864 | | | | 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: | In the first days of autumn, 1864, I left Petersburg,
where Lee confronted Grant, to go on a tour
of duty to the Shenandoah Valley, where Early confronted
Sheridan. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 118 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Justin Harley | | | | 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: | Colonel Joshua Hartright, tall, portly, about sixty, wearing the
dress of a Virginia planter, came hastily, one autumn morning,
into the drawing-room of his house at “Oakhill,” on the south side
of James River, and limping along with the assistance of his gold-headed
cane, went into one of the windows and looked out upon
the landscape. “Sir: I have reason to conclude that you have been borrowing
money on your expectations, in connection with my late brother's
property, to waste in reckless extravagance in foreign countries.
I write this to inform you that, if I have a say in that matter, as I
think I have, you will be dissappointed. I will not have the property
of my brother George pass into the hands of money-lenders to
supply your extravagance or your vices. “Sir: So be it. Life is, after all, so stupid an affair that justice
or injustice are the same. “Sir: Be good enough to come to Oakhill as soon as it suits your
convenience, as I have discovered a document in the handwriting
of my late brother, addressed to yourself, which I should prefer to
deliver into your hands rather than to entrust to a messenger, inasmuch
as it is marked `important.' “My Dear St. Leger—I am called away this morning upon business,
and may not possibly return until to-morrow or the next day.
Try to amuse yourself. You must have returned late last night.
Were you at Blandfield? These affairs are always renewed. Bon
voyage, mon ami! “Justin Harley, Esq., Huntsdon. “Sir: Your reply to my letter is not satisfactory. I am compelled
to raise the amount lent you on mortgage without delay. I
therefore have to notify you that legal proceedings will be duly
instituted to foreclose the mortgages, and recover the amount due
as per statement yesterday, viz, £7200, 7s. 6d. “I am going away, and leave this for you; you will find it, for
you will come. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 119 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border | | | | 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: | On a bright October morning, when the last century was
rapidly going down hill, and all old things began to give way to
the new, the sun was shining in upon the breakfast room at
Apple Orchard with a joyous splendor, which, perhaps, he had
never before displayed in tarrying at that domain, or any other. “Since seeing thee, on yester eve, my feelings have greatly
changed in intensity, and I fluctuate beneath an emotion of oblivious
delight. Alas! we young, weak women, try in vain to
obstruct the gurgling of the bosom; for I perceive that even
I am not proof against the arrows of the god Diana. My heart
has thrilled, my dearest friend, ever since you departed, yester eve,
with a devious and intrinsic sensation of voluminous delight.
The feelings cannot be concealed, but must be impressed in words;
or, as the great Milton says, in his Bucoliks, the o'er-fraught
heart would break! Love, my dear Mr. Verty, is contiguons—
you cannot be near the beloved object without catching the
contagion, and to this fact I distribute that flame which now
flickers with intense conflagration in my bosom. Why, cruel
member of the other sex! did you evade the privacy of our
innocent and nocturnal retreat, turning the salubrious and maiden
emotions of my bosom into agonizing delight and repressible
tribulation! Could you not practice upon others the wiles of
your intrinsic charms, and spare the weak Sallianna, whose only
desire was to contemplate the beauties of nature in her calm
retreat, where a small property sufficed for all her mundane necessities?
Alas! but yester morn I was cheerful and invigorating—
with a large criterion of animal spirits, and a bosom which had
never sighed responsible to the flattering vows of beaux. But
now!—ask me not how I feel, in thinking of the person who has
touched my indurate heart. Need I say that the individual in
question has only to demand that heart, to have it detailed to him
in all its infantile simplicity and diurnal self-reliance? Do not—
do not—diffuse it! “Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon
the pleasing scenes through which we have passed together—
alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return—
those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me:
`To be or not to be—that is the question;
Whether 'tis better in this world to bear
The slings and arrows of—'
I don't remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy
expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which, “I need not say how sorry I am to part with you. We have
seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship
will continue through after life. The next session will be dull
without you—I do not mean to flatter—as you go away. You
carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of, “You are destined for great things—it is yours to scale the
heights of song, and snatch the crown from Ossa's lofty brow.
Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!” “May your course in life be serene and happy; and may your
friends be as numerous and devoted as the flies and mosquitos in
the Eastern Range. “You ask me, my dear Ashley, to give you some advice, and
write down my good wishes, if I have any in your direction. Of
course I have, my dear fellow, and here goes. My advice first,
then, is, never to drink more than three bottles of wine at one
sitting—this is enough; and six bottles is, therefore, according to
the most reliable rules of logic—which I hate—too much. You
might do it if you had my head; but you havn't, and there's an
end of it. Next, if you want to bet at races, ascertain which
horse is the general `favorite,' and as our friend, the ostler, at the
Raleigh says—go agin him. Human nature invariably goes
wrong; and this a wise man will never forget. Next, if you
have the playing mania, never play with anybody but gentlemen.
You will thus have the consolation of reflecting that you have
been ruined in good company, and, in addition, had your pleasure;—blacklegs
ruin a man with a vulgar rapidity which is positively
shocking. Next, my dear boy—though this I need'nt tell
you—never look at Greek after leaving college, or Moral Philosophy,
or Mathematics proper. It interferes with a man's education,
which commences when he has recovered from the disadvantages
of college. Lastly, my dear fellow, never fall in love with any
woman—if you do, you will inevitably repent it. This world
would get on quietly without them—as long as it lasted—and I
need'nt tell you that the Trojan War, and other interesting
events, never would have happened, but for bright, eyes, and sighs,
and that sort of thing. If you are obliged to marry, because you
have an establishment, write the names of your lady acquaintances
on scraps of paper, put them in your hat, and draw one
forth at random. This admirable plan saves a great deal of
trouble, and you will inevitably get a wife who, in all things,
will make you miserable. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 120 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Leather stocking and silk, or, Hunter John Myers and his times | | | | 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: | “You are very foolish Max. Why did you take all
the trouble to write that note? Besides, I disapprove of
such things. You must not write to my scholars. I
know it was a jest, but it was wrong. I saw you in the
mirror over the harpsichord, and Josephine gave me the
note. I send my boots, as you call them. Why did you
not ask for them? Always ask me for what you want.
If it is in my power I will refuse you nothing that I can
properly grant. You are very welcome to the shoes. “I must leave you, uncle; I ask your pardon for this
act, because you have always been most kind to me,
much kinder and more affectionate than I deserved, I
know. Just now I was angry, my blood was hot and I
uttered words which I should not have uttered. Pardon
this, too—for my brain is still heated, and my hand trembles
with agitation. I am going away, because I feel
that I can not remain; not on account of your harsh words
which irritated me at the moment; I no longer feel any
irritation. It is not on account of those words, but because
I should be miserable, a mere walking automaton,
if I were to remain longer in the place where my heart
has been so cruelly torn—not by any one's fault—no!—
by my destiny. “Sir—I write to say that I shall be unavoidably absent
from Virginia for a week or more. This explanation
of my sudden departure I am called upon to make after
what passed yesterday. There was no possibility of mistaking
your meaning on that occasion—and I now make
you as ample amends for my departure as I am able to
do, by accepting your challenge in advance. Permit me
to add that I disapprove of mortal combat on trifling
grounds, and do not on this occasion consent to the meeting
because any person—whether a lady or not—would
ridicule me in the event of my refusal. I believe I should
have enough of independence to meet the eyes of the
whole world and return them their scornful laugh, did I
choose to refuse an encounter of this description. No,
sir; believe me, young as I am, I should never be moved
by such opinion, whether it were the scorn of men, or that
more dreadful thing the contemptuous pity of women.
I meet you willingly because you have placed yourself in
my way, and because I hate you. There is an honest
word—if it is not very Christian. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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