| | 141 | Author: | Poe
Edgar Allan
1809-1849 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque  | | | | 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: | Antiochus Epiphanes is very generally looked
upon as the Gog of the prophet Ezekiel. This honor
is, however, more properly attributable to Cambyses,
the son of Cyrus. And, indeed, the character of the
Syrian monarch does by no means stand in need of
any adventitious embollishment. His accession to
the throne, or rather his usurpation of the sovereignty,
a hundred and seventy-one years before the coming
of Christ—his attempt to plunder the temple of
Diana at Ephesus—his implacable hostility to the
Jews—his pollution of the Holy of Holies, and his
miserable death at Taba, after a tumultuous reign of
eleven years, are circumstances of a prominent kind,
and therefore more generally noticed by the historians
of his time than the impious, dastardly, cruel,
silly, and whimsical achievements which make up
the sum total of his private life and reputation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 142 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | A New-england Tale, Or, Sketches of New-england Character and Manners | | | | 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: | Mr. Elton was formerly a flourishing trader,
or, in country phrase, a merchant, in the village
of—. In the early part of his life he had
been successful in business; and having a due portion
of that mean pride which is gratified by pecuniary
superiority, he was careful to appear quite
as rich as he was. When he was at the top of
fortune's wheel, some of his prying neighbours
shrewdly suspected, that the show of his wealth
was quite out of proportion to the reality; and
their side glances and prophetic whispers betrayed
their contempt of the offensive airs of the
purse-proud man. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 144 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Beauchampe, Or, the Kentucky Tragedy | | | | 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: | The stormy and rugged winds of March were overblown—the
first fresh smiling days of April had come at
last—the days of sunshine and shower, of fitful breezes,
the breath of blossoms, and the newly awakened song of
birds. Spring was there in all the green and glory of her
youth, and the bosom of Kentucky heaved with the prolific
burden of the season. She had come, and her messengers
were every where, and every where busy. The birds bore
her gladsome tidings to
“Alley green,
Dingle or bushy dell of each wild wood,
And every bosky bourn from side to side—”
nor were the lately trodden and seared grasses of the forests
left unnoted; and the humbled flower of the wayside
sprang up at her summons. Like some loyal and devoted
people, gathered to hail the approach of a long exiled and
well-beloved sovereign, they crowded upon the path over
which she came, and yielded themselves with gladness at
her feet. The mingled songs and sounds of their rejoicing
might be heard, and far off murmurs of gratulation, rising
from the distant hollows, or coming faintly over the hill
tops, in accents not the less pleasing because they were the
less distinct. That lovely presence which makes every
land blossom and every living thing rejoice, met, in the
happy region in which we meet her now, a double tribute
of honour and rejoicing. The “dark and bloody ground,”
by which mournful epithets Kentucky was originally
known to the Anglo-American, was dark and bloody no
longer. The savage had disappeared from its green forests
for ever, and no longer profaned with slaughter, and his
unholy whoop of death, its broad and beautiful abodes. A
newer race had succeeded; and the wilderness, fulfilling
the better destinies of earth, had begun to blossom like the
rose. Conquest had fenced in its sterile borders, with a
wall of fearless men, and peace slept every where in security
among its green recesses. Stirring industry—the
perpetual conqueror—made the woods resound with the
echoes of his biting axe and ringing hammer. Smiling villages
rose in cheerful white, in place of the crumbling and
smoky cabins of the hunter. High and becoming purposes
of social life and thoughtful enterprise superseded that
eating and painful decay, which has terminated in the
annihilation of the native man; and which, among every
people, must always result from their refusal to exercise,
according to the decree of experience, no less than Providence,
their limbs and sinews in tasks of well directed
and continual labour. A great nation urging on a sleepless
war against sloth and feebleness, is one of the noblest of
human spectacles. This warfare was rapidly and hourly
changing the monotony and dreary aspects of rock and
forest. Under the creative hands of art, temples of magnificence
rose where the pines had fallen. Long and lovely
vistas were opened through the dark and hitherto impervious
thickets. The city sprang up beside the river, while
hamlets, filled with active hope and cheerful industry,
crowded upon the verdant hill-side, and clustered among
innumerable valleys. Grace began to seek out the homes
of toil, and taste supplied their decorations. A purer form
of religion hallowed the forest homes of the red man,
while expelling for ever the rude divinities of his worship;
and throughout the land, an advent of moral loveliness
seemed approaching, not less grateful to the affections and
the mind, than was the beauty of the infant April, to the
eye and the heart of the wanderer. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 145 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Beauchampe, Or, the Kentucky Tragedy | | | | 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: | Having seen his enemy fairly mounted and under way,
as he thought, for Charlemont, Ned Hinkley returned to
Ellisland for his own horse. Here he did not suffer himself
to linger, though before he could succeed in taking
his departure, he was subjected to a very keen and searching
examination by the village publican and politician.
Having undergone this scrutiny with tolerable patience, if
not to the entire satisfaction of the examiner, he set forward
at a free canter, determined that his adversary should
not be compelled to wait. It was only while he rode that
he began to fancy the possibility of the other having taken
a different course; but as, upon reflection, he saw no
other plan, which he might have adopted—for lynching
for suspected offences was not yet a popular practice in and
about Charlemont,—he contented himself with the reflection
that he had done all that could have been done, and if
Alfred Stevens failed to keep his appointment, he, at least,
was one of the losers. He would necessarily lose the
chance of revenging an indignity, not to speak of the
equally serious loss of that enjoyment which a manly
fight usually gave to Ned Hinkley himself, and which, he
accordingly assumed, must be an equal gratification to all
other persons. When he arrived at Charlemont, he did
not make his arrival known, but repairing directly to the
lake among the hills, he hitched his horse, and prepared,
with what patience he could command, to await the coming
of the enemy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 146 | Author: | Bird
Robert Montgomery
1806-1854 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Hawks of Hawk-hollow | | | | 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: | It has been seen how the rejoicings at the
promontory were interrupted in their very beginning,
by the sudden discovery of the refugee, so
Drad for his derring-doe and bloody deed,
that his mere name had thrown all present into
confusion. The crowning climax was put to the
general panic, when some of the late pursuers were
seen returning, early in the afternoon, whipping
and spurring with all the zeal of fear, and scattering
such intelligence along the way as put to flight
the last resolution of the jubilants. The news immediately
spread, that Oran Gilbert had burst into
existence, not alone, but with a countless host of
armed men at his heels; that he had attacked and
routed the pursuers, hanging all whom he took
alive, especially the soldiers; and that he was now,
in the frenzy of triumph, marching against the
devoted Hillborough, with the resolution of burning
it to the ground. Such dreadful intelligence
was enough to complete the terror of the revellers;
they fled amain—and long before night, the flag
waved, and the little piece of ordnance frowned in
utter solitude on the top of the deserted head-land.
It is true that there came, by and by, couriers with
happier news, but too late to arrest the fugitives;
and as these riders made their way towards the
village, expressing some anxiety lest it should be
attacked, they rather confirmed than dispelled the
fears of the few inhabitants of the valley. From
one of the coolest and boldest, Captain Loring, who
fastened on him at the park-gate, learned that there
had been no action indeed, and that the fugitive
had made his escape; but, on the other hand, it
appeared that there were refugees in the land,—
that they had hanged a soldier named Parker, and
made good their retreat from the place of execution—that
the greatest doubt existed among the
pursuers in relation to the route they had taken
and the objects they had in view, some believing,
on the evidence of a certain quaker, who had been
their prisoner, that they were marching by secret
paths against the village, while others insisted that
this was a feint designed only to throw the hunters
off the scent, and to secure their escape,—that, in
consequence, the party had divided, pursuing the
search in all directions, in the hope of discovering
their route,—and, finally, that it was now certain,
the band, whose number was supposed to be very
considerable, was really commanded by the notorious
Oran Gilbert. From this man also, Captain
Loring learned a few vague particulars in relation
to the two greatest objects of his interest, namely
Henry Falconer and the young painter, who had
fallen into a quarrel in consequence of some misunderstanding
about their horses, the officer having
used harsh language not only in regard to the
unceremonious seizure by Herman of his own
steed, but in reference to a similar liberty the refugee
had previously taken with the painter's,
which, Falconer averred, was an evidence of intimacy
and intercourse betwixt Mr. Hunter and the
outlaw it behooved the former to explain, before
thrusting himself into the company of honest men
and gentlemen. This quarrel, it seemed, had been
allayed by the interference of Falconer's brother
officers; and the informant had heard something
said of a proposal to drown the feud in a bowl.
As for the man of peace, Ephraim, it appeared,
that his spirited assistance during the chase, and
especially his success in exposing the secret haunt
of the tories in the Terrapin Hole, the scene of
Parker's execution, had not only removed all suspicion
in relation to his character, but had highly
recommended him to the favour of his late
captors. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 148 | Author: | Child
Lydia Maria Francis
1802-1880 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Rebels, Or, Boston Before the Revolution | | | | 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: | There was hurrying to and fro through the principal
streets of Boston on the night of the 14th of August,
1765. A brilliant bonfire was blazing on Fort Hill.
Column after column of light died away to rise again
with redoubled grandeur, and at each succeeding burst
of flame, the loud shouts of the rabble were heard with
dreadful distinctness. “A friend of mine, who has lately returned to England,
accidentally mentioned meeting Miss Fitzherbert
at your house. May I ask who this Miss Fitzherbert
is? I have been in my native country but a short time,
—I am a bachelor,—and my health is exceedingly precarious.
It is therefore important that I should know
her history and connexions immediately. “Lieutenant-Governor, Member of the Council,
Commander of the Castle, Judge of Probate, and Chief
Justice of the Supreme Court! you are hereby commanded
to appear under the Liberty-tree within one
hour, to plight your faith, that you will use no more
influence against an injured and an exasperated people. “I hardly know how to account for the diffidence
I feel in addressing you. The usual exaggerated language
of affection would, I well know, appear ridiculous
to you; and coldness or reserve is but ill suited to the
present state of my feelings. The declaration that I
have been for years most sincerely and devotedly attached
to you, may not perhaps be entirely unexpected;
and I once hoped it would not be entirely disagreeable.
You do not owe your influence over me to a
sudden freak of fancy; it results from a long and intimate
knowledge of your character. Yet I will not flatter
you, by saying I consider you faultless;—on the
contrary, I think you have defects, which may prove
very dangerous to yourself and friends, unless timely
corrected. But I cannot imagine a character more
elevated than might be formed from a mind so vigorous,
and a heart so generous and candid as yours. “I have only time before this vessel sails, to tell you,
that the important papers,—certificate of marriage,
birth, &c., came duly to hand. Evidence is ample and
satisfactory. There is no doubt that your father was my
dear, but very headstrong nephew,—though your miniature
shows not a shadow of family likeness. I rejoice
to see by your letter, that you have been educated as a
Fitzherbert should be. As a trifling acknowledgement
of this kindness, present the articles that accompany
this, to Governor Hutchinson and his sister. A voyage
at this season would be cold and dangerous, but as soon
as the spring opens, you must make for England. “This flower, pure and beautiful as yourself, was
purchased for you. Will you accept it from your faithful
lover? Will you cherish it for his sake, during the
tedious absence to which he is doomed? “Here I am, in the favoured land of the brave, the
intelligent, and the free. Yet even while I now repeat
it, I scarcely credit it. I feel as if I were walking in
my sleep; and it is only when I look out upon the
princely buildings around me, that I can realize I am indeed
in London. Our voyage was very pleasant, with
the exception of sea-sickness. That, however, is a tax
we must all pay to lord Neptune for rocking us in his
cradle somewhat too roughly. (Pardon me. I forget
that the odious word tax is banished from the American
vocabulary.) “We last week received your long and affectionate
letter. I was delighted, but not dazzled, with your picture
of London. I love my own quiet chamber better
than I should marble saloons or Corinthian piazzas.
Yet our humble mansion has been sad enough since you
left us. My father's health fails daily; and long, long
before you return to us, Lucretia, I fear the dear venerable
old man will have gone to his last home. It
grieves me to think of it. Yet why should they whose
lives have been stainless, and their purposes all holy,
shrink from the hand that enrobes them with immortality.
Young as I am, there are times when I would lay
down my weary, aching head, and sleep, never more
to wake in this cold world, as cheerfully as the tired
infant presses the soft pillow of its cradle. “My dear Child, “I delivered your letters according to their directions;
and I do not hesitate to say that the general opinion here
is entirely in favour of your views. It is, however,
very difficult to ascertain what course will be taken, for
never was there such a heterogeneous, unintelligible
mass as the present ministry. They are made up of the
shreds and patches of all political opinions,—a confused
jumble of every shade and hue of whiggism. “How very seldom you write; and how wo-begone
are your epistles. Do not think me heartless with regard
to your father's sickness. Indeed, I have felt most
keenly for you and for him; but I have not the least
doubt that the fine, clear climate of Canada will restore
him; and even if the event should be the worst that we
can fear, you must not thus mourn away your young
existence. When you wrote last, you were just on the
point of starting for Montreal; and I assure you I envied
you the excursion. I wish I could have visited
Gertrude before I came to England. Not only because
I loved her more than I ever loved any one in so short a
time; but I am really ashamed when asked about Niagara
and the Lakes, to say that I have never seen them.
People here are not aware how very unusual it is for
American ladies to go out of sight of their own chimnies;
and as for space, they do not seem to imagine
there is such a thing on the other side of the Atlantic.
They would ask a Vermontese about the Blue Ridge,
or a Georgian about Niagara, as readily as I should
question a Londoner about St. Paul's, or beg a description
of Snowdon from a Welchman born and bred within
sight of its cloud-kissing peak. “I found your letter dated November 15th, waiting our
arrival, when we returned from Canada. Gertrude and
I wrote you a crowded epistle last autumn; I wonder
you had not received it before you wrote. She is very
happy. Indeed her affectionate heart deserves it. Had
she been a sister in very truth, she could not have
loved me more, or been more kindly attentive to my
father. “I last week received a package from Boston, containing
letters from uncle Hutchinson, Grace Osborne,
and yourself. “How mutable are all human prospects! My last
lines were written on the 14th; and uncle Fitzherbert
was then in fine health, and animated to a remarkable
degree. On the night of the 15th, he was suddenly attacked
by violent convulsions. The fits continued with
increasing power until the third day,—when, with anguish
that cannot be described, I saw the only relative I
had on earth stretched on the bed of death. I have never
before seen Mrs. Edgarton subdued by emotion; but now
I am obliged to exert all my fortitude to support her.
Alas! I shall never again be idolized as I was by that
dear old gentleman. He seemed to consider me the
prop of his house,—the stay and support of his age.
Why did my heart ever accuse him of coldness and
formality? “Silly Girl, “If the frank avowal that you are still very dear to
my widowed heart, requires any apology, let approaching
death be my excuse. “It is long since I have written to you,—longer than
I once thought it ever would be; but heart-trying scenes
prevented it, after my return from England; and when
their bitterness had passed away, I was too much depressed
to make any mental exertion. “Much respected Madam, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 149 | Author: | Clark
Willis Gaylord
1808-1841 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The literary remains of the late Willis Gaylord Clark | | | | 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: | `I have not sooner replied to your letter of the eighteenth of June, communicating
the intelligence of the untimely death of your brother, because in
fact I was at a loss how to reply. It is one of those cases in which all ordinary
attempts at consolation are apt to appear trite and cold, and can never reach
the deep-seated affliction. In such cases, it always appears to me better
to leave the heart to struggle with its own sorrows, and medicine its own ills;
and indeed, in healthful minds, as in healthful bodies, Providence has beneficently
implanted self-healing qualities, that in time close up and almost obliterate
the deepest wounds. `Of the several excellent writers whose names we have placed upon our
catalogue as worthy of the honor we intend to do them (a series of portraits
of popular Philadelphia authors, accompanied by suitable notices of their
lives and works,) the first we select is that of Willis Gaylord Clark, whose
rare abilities as a poet, and whose qualities as a man, justify this distinction.
The life of a student is usually, almost necessarily, indeed, uneventful. Disinclined
by habit and association, and generally unfitted by temperament, to
mingle in the ruder scenes, the shocks and conflicts that mark the periods
of sterner existence, his biography furnishes but few salient points upon
which an inquirer can take hold. In the little circle which his affections
have gathered around him, he finds abundant sources of enjoyment and interest;
and though the world without may ring with his name, he pursues his
quiet and peaceful way, undisturbed by, if not insensible to, its praises. Such
has been eminently the case with the subject of this notice. With feelings
peculiarly fitted for social and domestic intercourse, and a heart overflowing
with the warmest and most generous impulses; and a shrinking sensitiveness
to obtrusive public regard, Mr. Clark has always sought those scenes in
which, while his talents found free scope, his native modesty was unwounded,
and he could exercise without restraint the Joftier charities of his nature. `With the exception of a small volume published some years since, we believe that
Mr. Clark's effusions have not been collected. They have appeared at irregular and
often remote intervals; and though their beauty and pathos have won the applause of
the first writers of this country and England, they have not made that impression
which if united they could not fail to produce. Mr. Clark's distinguishing traits are
tenderness, pathos, and melody. In style and sentiment he is wholly original, but if
he resemble any writer, it is Mr. Bryant. The same lofty tone of sentiment, the
same touches of melting pathos, the same refined sympathies with the beauties and
harmonies of nature, and the same melody of style, characterise, in an almost equal
degree, these delightful poets. The ordinary tone of Mr. Clark's poetry is gentle,
solemn, and tender. Ilis effusions flow in melody from a heart full of the sweetest affections,
and upon their surface is mirrored all that is gentle and beautiful in nature,
rendered more beautiful by the light of a lofty and religious imagination. He is one
of the few writers who have succeeded in making the poetry of religion attractive.
Young is sad, and austere, Cowper is at times constrained, and Wordsworth is much
too dreamy for the mass; but with Clark religion is unaffectedly blended with the
simplest and sweetest affections of the heart. His poetry glitters with the dew, not
of Castaly, but of heaven. No man, however cold, can resist the winning and natural
sweetness and melody of the tone of piety that pervades his poems. All the voices
of nature speak to him of religion; he
`Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.'
There is not an effusion, and scarce a line in his poetical writings that is not replete
with this spirit. The entire absence of affectation or artifice in Mr. Clark's poetry
also deserves the highest commendation. Though always poetical he is always natural;
he sacrifices nothing for effect, and does not seek his subjects or his figures from
the startling or the extravagant. There is an uniform and uninterrupted propriety in
his writings. His taste is not merely cultivated and refined, but sensitively fastidious,
and shrinks, with instinctive delicacy, from anything that could distort the tranquil
and tender beauty of his lines. His diction is neither quaint nor common-place, bloated
nor tame, but is natural, classic, and expressive. In the art of versification, he appears
to be nearly perfect; we know no poet in the language who is more regular, animated,
and euphonious. `Our brother is no more!' Death, the pale messenger, has beckoned
him silently away; and the spirit which kindled with so many elevated
thoughts; which explored the chambers of human affection, and awakened
so many warm sympathies; which rejoiced with the glad, and grieved with
the sorrowing, has ascended to mansions of eternal repose. And there is
one, reader, who above all others feels how much gentleness of soul, how
much fraternal affection and sincere friendship; how much joyous bilarity,
goodness, poetry, have gone out of the world; and he will be pardoned for
dwelling in these pages, so often enriched by the genius of the Departed,
upon the closing scenes of his earthly career. Since nearly a twelve-month
the deceased has `died daily' in the eyes of the writer of this feeble tribute.
He saw that Disease sat at his heart, and was gnawing at its cruel leisure;
that in the maturity of every power, in the earthly perfection of every faculty;
`when experience had given facility to action and success to endeavor,'
he was fast going down to darkness and the worm. Thenceforth were treasured
up every soul-fraught epistle and the recollection of each recurring
interview, growing more and more frequent, until at length Life like a spent
steed `panted to its goal,' and Death sealed up the glazing eye and stilled
the faltering tongue. Leaving these, however, with many other treasured
remains and biographical facts for future reference and preservation in this
Magazine, we pass to the following passages of a letter recently received
from a late but true friend of the lamented deceased, Rev. Dr. Ducachet,
Rector of St. Stephen's Church, Philadelphia; premising merely, that the
reverend gentleman had previously called upon him at his special instance,
in the last note he ever penned; that `his religious faith was manifested in
a manner so solemn, so frank, and so cordial,' as to convince the affectionate
pastor that the failing invalid, aware that he must die of the illness under
which he was suffering, had long been seeking divine assistance to prepare
him for the issue so near at hand: `He was, so far as his character revealed itself to me, a man of a most
noble, frank, and generous nature. He was as humble as a little child. He
exhibited throughout most remarkable patience. He never complained.
But once, while I was on bended knees, praying with him for patience to be
given him, and acknowledging that all he had suffered was for the best, he
clasped his hands together, and exclaimed, `Yes! right, right—all right!'
... He was one of the most affectionate-hearted men I ever saw. Every
moment I spent with him, he was doing or saying something to express to me
his attachment. He would take my hand, or put his arm around my neck,
or say something tender, to tell me that he loved me. He showed the same
kind feeling to his attendants, his faithful nurse, Rebecca, and to the humblest
of the servants.... He was of course, with such a heart, grateful
for the smallest attentions. He received the most trifling office with thanks.
I observed this most remarkably on the evening of his death. I had taken
my son with me, that he might sit up with him on Saturday night, if occasion
should require. When I mentioned that the youth was in the room, he
called for him; welcomed him most kindly, thanked him over and over for
his friendly intentions; and in fact, broke out into the warmest expressions of
gratitude for what his sensitive and generous heart took to be a high act of
favor. All this was within an hour and a half of his death.... Finally,
I believe he was a truly religious man. I have no doubt that he was fully
prepared for his end; and that through the sacrifice of the cross, and the
Saviour who died there for sinners, he was pardoned and accepted. He has
gone, I feel persuaded, to the abodes of peace, where the souls of those who
sleep in the Lord Jesus enjoy perpetual felicity and rest.' Good Reader, let us have a talk together. Sit you down
with benevolent optics, and a kindly heart, and I doubt not that
we shall pass an hour right pleasantly, one with another. Pleasantly,
in part, but in part it may be, sadly; for you know it is
with conversation, as with life; it taketh various colors, and is
changing evermore. So we will expect these changes, and meet
them as they come. Sometimes we shall be in the cheerful vein,
and at others, in that subjunctive mood which conquers the jest on
the lip, and holds Humor in bonds. But for `gude or ill,' I
shall desire you to sit with me. In the voices of Mirth, there
may be excitement, but in the tones of Mourning there is consolation. Congregere in Pons Cayuguum, Februarius Sexdecim, nox media, pro
jocus et exercitatio, et animi relaxatio. `Sithence that love, which is the lightest bird in the world, hath
nestled in my bosom, it hath proved so full of egg, that I have been forced
to suffer him to lay there. But sithence he hath laid it, he hath sate upon
it a long tyme, and at length hath hatched this little pullet which I now
send you. The breeding of it will cost you little; all the food it will require
will be caresses and kisses. And withal, it is so well taught that it
speaks better than a paraqueto, and so will tell you my sufferings for you.
It hath in charge to inquire of you whether or no you are yet displeased
with me, and to let me know your mind, not by a pullet so big as this, but
by the least chicken you please, if I may have your favor; with this promise,
that if you have laid aside your rigor, I shall send you no more pullets, but
present you with full-grown birds, full of valor and affection. Will you allow me to correct a slight statement in your
last, with reference to my death? I am grateful for the compliments to my
character in your obituary notice, and I believe them deserved. That I
tried to do the handsome thing while I lived, is most true; true, too, is it, that
I never backed out of a fight, and never saw the man that could whip me,
when alive; and I say the same yet, `being dead,' according to your story.
But when you state, that I left my affairs unsettled, and my widow and
those eleven children unprovided for, I have only to state, that you lie in
your throat! I mean no offence in what I say; I speak in the aggregate
sense of the term. Being a dead man, and printed down as such in your
columns, I am incapable of mortal resentments; but I leave as my avengers,
Cain, Abel, and Simpkins, printers and publishers of the Occidental
Trumpet and Mississippi Battle-Axe. To the editor of that paper, I submit
my fame. To his indomitable coolness, never yet ruffled by repeated contumely,
and invulnerable to contempt, I confide my reputation: feeling
certain that one who has never found satisfaction for an insult, (nor sought
it indeed,) can fail to be a champion in my cause. That he may be in peril
in my advocacy, is possible; but he knows how to shun it. He is independent,
for he is unknown; he is fearless, for no man will touch a hair of
his head. To that important Gulliven, in whatsoever cave or fastness he
may dwell, I surrender my fame. I have had an interview with Mr. Biddle, and truly lament
my inability to communicate satisfactory results. I fear that until the
resolution of the Senator from Ohio, in regard to the repeal of the Treasury
order, is finally disposed of, the trading interests will materially suffer. `I have seen a piece which you made and put into a perryoge published
down into the city of New York, to which I am a-going to indict a reply.
My indictment will be short, as some of the parties is not present to which
you have been allusive. But with respect of that there diwine person you
spoke of, I am sorry to remark, that he is uncommonly dead, and wont
never give no more lectures. He was so onfortnight as to bu'st a blood-vessel
at a pertracted meeting; and I han't hearn nothing onto him sence.
His motives was probable good; but in delivering on 'em, it struck me forcibly
that he proximoted to the sassy. However, I never reserves ill will,
not ag'inst nobody; and I authorize you to put this into printing, ef'so be
that you deem it useful. That's what Smith used to say, when he published
his self-nominations in the newspapers, that a man with a horn (they
tell me that he has a very large circle of kindred) used to ride post about
and distribit. `I have taken your new hat, but I leave you my eternal gratitude. `It becomes our painful but imperative and extraordinary duty, to promulgate
the facts of a disaster which reached us to-day, by the mail from
Thebes, via the perpendicular railroad. As a party were ascending, with
the locomotive playing a lively tune, assisted on the piana-forte by another
locomotive, that had been hired by Signor Goitini, preparatory to his first
concert in New-Babylon, some religious persons of the `United States' Established
Mormon Church,' insisted that the tune, being irreverent, should
be changed. This offensive tune was no less than the well known and
popular song, (supposed to have been written in England, previous to the
subjugation of that place by the Russians,) entitled `Proceed it, ye Crippled
Ones, Babylon's Nigh.' This complimentary course on the part of
the locomotive, and the gentlemanly engineer with whom it associates, was
hissed by the Mormons, until they were overcome by the encores of the
majority. The locomotive was of course embarrassed, but we understand,
continued to play. One of the Mormons, enraged beyond measure at this
circumstance, rushed forward through the door-ways of the train, and wantonly
turned the stop-cock of `What's become of Good Old Daniel?' one
of the slowest tunes of the day. The consequence was, that the train proceeded
with the greatest discord, because the latter tune was for the backtrack,
in descending the mountain. The result was, the cars were thrown
off the rails, down a precipice of nearly three hundred feet; but owing to
the exertions of Mr. Inclination Plain, first engineer, they were got
back by his Upward Impulse Screw, which has thus far answered admirably,
stopping cars in mid-air, if they run off a precipice, and returning them
safely, by means of the patent steam wind-bags, which extend beneath the
trains, and destroy their gravity. I met with a good article the other day in a native magazine,
on the subject of whiskers—a pilosus and prolific theme. Talking
of whiskers reminds me of cats. The transition is natural.
Feline quadrupeds are justly celebrated for their claims to admiration
in respect of whiskers. In the conformation of his mandibular
appendages, Nature has been generous with the cat. Not
only do they stand out from his face like the elongated mustaches
of old Shah Abbas of Persia, but there is within them a
sleepless spirit, a shrewd and far reaching sense, which puts to
shame the similar ornaments on the faces of bipeds of the genus homo. They, indeed, can make their whiskers look well, by
baptizing them with eau de Cologne, and Rowland's Macassar
Oil, or peradventure, the unctuous matter won from the `tried
reins' of defunct bears; but where is the intelligence, the discernment,
of their rivals? Then I release my dear soul from her promise about today.
If you do not see that all which he can claim by gratitude, I doubly
claim by love, I have done, forever. I would purchase my happiness at any
price but at the expense of yours. Look over my letters, think over my
conduct, consult your own heart, read these two long letters of your own
writing, which I return you. Then tell me whether we love or not. And
if we love (as witness both our hearts), shall gratitude, cold gratitude, bear
away the prize that's due to love like ours? Shall my right be acknowledged,
and he possess the casket? Shall I have your soul, and he your
hand, your lips, your eyes? Your two letters of the day before yesterday, and
what you said to me yesterday, have drove me mad. You know how such
tenderness distracts me. As to marrying me, that you should not do upon
any account. Shall the man I value, be pointed at and hooted for selling
himself to a lord for a commission? * * * My soul is above my situation.
Beside, I will not take advantage of what may be only, perhaps,
(excuse me), a youthful passion. After a more intimate acquaintance of
a week or ten days, your opinion of me might very much change. And
yet you may love me as sincerely as I— My Life and Soul! But I will never more use any
more preface of this sort, and I beg you will not. A correspondence begins
with dear, then my dear, dearest, my dearest, and so on, till, at last, panting
language toils after us in vain. Let me give you joy of having found such kind and
agreeable friends in a strange land. The account you gave me of the lady
quite charmed me. Neither am I without my friends. A lady from whom
I have received particular favors, is uncommonly kind to me. For the
credit of your side of the water, she is an Irish woman. Her agreeable
husband, by his beauty and accomplishments, does credit to this country.
He is remarkable also for his feelings. When this reaches you I shall be no
more, but do not let my unhappy fate distress you too much. I strove
against it as long as possible, but now it overpowers me. You know where
my affections were placed; my having by some means or other lost hers,
(an idea which I could not support,) has driven me to madness. God bless-you
, my dear F—. Would I had a sum of money to leave you to convince
you of my great regard! May Heaven protect my beloved woman,
and forgive the act which alone could relieve me from a world of misery I
have long endured! Oh! should it be in your power to do her any act of
friendship, I am alive, and she is dead. I shot her and
not myself. Some of her blood is still upon my clothes. I dont ask you
to speak to me. I don't ask you to look at me. Only come hither, and
bring me a little poison; such as is strong enough. Upon my knees I beg,
if your friendship for me ever was sincere, do, do bring me some poison!' If the murderer of Miss—wishes
to live, the man he has most injured will use all his interest to procure his
life.' `The murderer of her whom he preferred, far preferred, to life, suspects
the hand from which he has just received such an offer as he neither desires
nor deserves. His wishes are for death, not for life. One wish he has:
Could he be pardoned in this world by the man he has most injured! Oh
my lord, when I meet her in another world, enable me to tell her, (if departed
spirits are not ignorant of earthly things,) that you forgive us both,
and that you will be a father to her dear infants! I am gone to spend a fortnight, in a Christmas festival, with
some friends in Virginia. I enclose a regular division of our
joint funds. I have spoken to my uncle about our hotel bills
here, and he will fix them. It is all understood. You can stay
a fortnight if you like; though how you'll get back to Philadelphia,
after that, the Lord only knows. Perhaps you may accomplish
the transit without trouble: if so, I shall be, (as I was
last night, when I thought I knew you,) mistaken. We do not know each other well, for we have been
thwarted by the presence of untoward circumstances; but surely, my dear,
my only John, the language of my eyes must have convinced you that
since we first met, my heart has been wholly yours. Come to-morrow
evening at eight, and in a walk of a few moments, I will convince you, if
words can do it, of the unalterable affection of your devoted | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 150 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Home as Found | | | | 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: | When Mr. Effingham determined to return home,
he sent orders to his agent to prepare his town-house
in New-York for his reception, intending to pass a
month or two in it, then to repair to Washington for a
few weeks, at the close of its season, and to visit his
country residence when the spring should fairly open.
Accordingly, Eve now found herself at the head
of one of the largest establishments, in the largest
American town, within an hour after she had landed
from the ship. Fortunately for her, however, her father
was too just to consider a wife, or a daughter, a mere
upper servant, and he rightly judged that a liberal portion
of his income should be assigned to the procuring
of that higher quality of domestic service, which can
alone relieve the mistress of a household from a burthen
so heavy to be borne. Unlike so many of those around
him, who would spend on a single pretending and comfortless
entertainment, in which the ostentatious folly
of one contended with the ostentatious folly of another,
a sum that, properly directed, would introduce order
and system into a family for a twelvemonth, by commanding
the time and knowledge of those whose study
they had been, and who would be willing to devote
themselves to such objects, and then permit their wives
and daughters to return to the drudgery to which the
sex seems doomed in this country, he first bethought
him of the wants of social life before he aspired to its
parade. A man of the world, Mr. Effingham possessed
the requisite knowledge, and a man of justice,
the requisite fairness, to permit those who depended on
him so much for their happiness, to share equitably in
the good things that Providence had so liberally bestowed
on himself. In other words, he made two people
comfortable, by paying a generous price for a
housekeeper; his daughter, in the first place, by releasing
her from cares that, necessarily, formed no
more a part of her duties than it would be a part of
her duty to sweep the pavement before the door; and,
in the next place, a very respectable woman who was
glad to obtain so good a home on so easy terms. To
this simple and just expedient, Eve was indebted for
being at the head of one of the quietest, most truly
elegant, and best ordered establishments in America,
with no other demands on her time than that which
was necessary to issue a few orders in the morning,
and to examine a few accounts once a week. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 151 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Home as Found | | | | 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: | Though the affair of the Point continued to agitate
the village of Templeton next day, and for many days,
it was little remembered in the Wigwam. Confident
of his right, Mr. Effingham, though naturally indignant
at the abuse of his long liberality, through which
alone the public had been permitted to frequent the
place, and this too, quite often, to his own discomfort
and disappointment, had dismissed the subject temporarily
from his mind, and was already engaged in his
ordinary pursuits. Not so, however, with Mr. Bragg.
Agreeably to promise, he had attended the meeting;
and now he seemed to regulate all his movements by
a sort of mysterious self-importance, as if the repository
of some secret of unusual consequence. No one
regarded his manner, however; for Aristabulus, and
his secrets, and opinions, were all of too little value,
in the eyes of most of the party, to attract peculiar
attention. He found a sympathetic listener in Mr.
Dodge, happily; that person having been invited,
through the courtesy of Mr. Effingham, to pass the
day with those in whose company, though very unwillingly
on the editor's part certainly, he had gone
through so many dangerous trials. These two, then,
soon became intimate, and to have seen their shrugs,
significant whisperings, and frequent conferences in
corners, one who did not know them, might have fancied
their shoulders burthened with the weight of the
state. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 152 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Two Admirals | | | | 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: | The events we are about to relate, occurred near the
middle of the last century, previously even to that struggle,
which it is the fashion of America to call “the old
French War.” The opening scene of our tale, however,
must be sought in the other hemisphere, and on the coast of
the mother country. In the middle of the eighteenth century,
the American colonies were models of loyalty; the very
war, to which there has just been allusion, causing the great
expenditure that induced the ministry to have recourse to
the system of taxation, which terminated in the revolution.
The family quarrel had not yet commenced. Intensely occupied
with the conflict, which terminated not more gloriously
for the British arms, than advantageously for the
British American possessions, the inhabitants of the provinces
were perhaps never better disposed to the metropolitan
state, than at the very period of which we are about to
write. All their early predilections seemed to be gaining
strength, instead of becoming weaker; and, as in nature,
the calm is known to succeed the tempest, the blind attachment
of the colony to the parent country, was but a precursor
of the alienation and violent disunion that were so soon to
follow. “Our ancient friendship, and I am proud to add, affinity
of blood, unite in inducing me to write a line, at this interesting
moment. Of the result of this rash experiment of the
Pretender's son, no prudent man can entertain a doubt.
Still, the boy may give us some trouble, before he is disposed
of, altogether. We look to all our friends, therefore,
for their most efficient exertions, and most prudent co-operation.
On you, every reliance is placed; and I wish I could
say as much for every flag-officer afloat. Some distrust—
unmerited, I sincerely hope—exists in a very high quarter,
touching the loyalty of a certain commander-in-chief, who
is so completely under your observation, that it is felt
enough is done in hinting the fact to one of your political
tendencies. The king said, this morning, `Vell, dere isht
Bluevater; of him we are shure asht of ter sun.' You stand
excellently well there, to my great delight; and I need only
say, be watchful and prompt. “I write this in a bed big enough to ware a ninety in.
I 've been athwart ships half the night, without knowing it,
Galleygo has just been in to report `our fleet' all well, and
the ships riding flood. It seems there is a good look-out
from the top of the house, where part of the roads are visible,
Magrath, and the rest of them, have been at poor Sir Wycherly
all night, I learn, but he remains down by the head,
yet. I am afraid the good old man will never be in trim
again. I shall remain here, until something is decided; and
as we cannot expect our orders until next day after to-morrow,
at the soonest, one might as well be here, as on board.
Come ashore and breakfast with us; when we can consult
about the propriety of remaining, or of abandoning the
wreck. Adieu, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 153 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | | | | 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: | The charms of the Tyrrhenian Sea have been sung since
the days of Homer. That the Mediterranean, generally,
and its beautiful boundaries of Alps and Apennines, with its
deeply indented and irregular shores, forms the most delightful
region of the known earth, in all that relates to climate,
productions, and physical formation, will be readily enough
conceded by the traveller. The countries that border on
this midland water, with their promontories buttressing a
mimic ocean—their mountain-sides teeming with the picturesque
of human life — their heights crowned with watch-towers—their
rocky shelves consecrated by hermitages, and
their unrivalled sheet dotted with sails, rigged, as it might be,
expressly to produce effect in a picture, form a sort of world
apart, that is replete with delights to all who have the happy
fortune to feel charms, which not only fascinate the beholder,
but which linger in the memories of the absent like visions
of a glorious past. My Lord—I have the satisfaction of reporting, for the
information of my Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty,
the destruction of the Republican privateer, the le Few-Folly,
commanded by the notorious Raoul Yvard, on the night of
the 22d inst. The circumstances attending this important
success, are as follows. Understanding that the celebrated
picaroon had been on the Neapolitan and Roman coasts,
doing much mischief, I took His Majesty's ship close in,
following up the peninsula, with the land in sight, until we
got through the Canal of Elba, early on the morning of the
21st. On opening Porto Ferrajo bay, we saw a lugger
lying at anchor off the town, with English colours flying.
As this was a friendly port, we could not suppose the craft
to be the le Few-Folly; but, determined to make sure, we
beat in, signalling the stranger, until he took advantage of
our stretching well over to the eastward, to slip round the
rocks, and get off to-windward. We followed, for a short
distance, and then ran over under the lee of Capraya, where
we remained until the morning of the 22d, when we again
went off the town. We found the lugger in the offing; and
being now well satisfied of her character, and it falling calm,
I sent the boats after her, under Messrs. Winchester and
Griffin, the first and second of this ship. After a sharp
skirmish, in which we sustained some loss, though that of
the Republicans was evidently much greater, Monsieur
Yvard succeeded in effecting his escape, in consequence of a
breeze's suddenly springing up. Sail was now made on the
ship, and we chased the lugger into the mouth of the Golo.
Having fortunately captured a felucca, with a quantity of
tar, and other combustible materials on board, as we drew
in with the land, I determined to make a fire-ship of her, and
to destroy the enemy by that mode; he having anchored
within the shoals, beyond the reach of shot. Mr. Winchester,
the first, having been wounded in the boat-affair, I
entrusted the execution of this duty to Mr. Griffin, who
handsomely volunteered, and by whom it was effectually
discharged, about ten last evening, in the coolest and most
officer-like manner. I enclose this gentleman's report of
the affair, and beg leave to recommend him to the favour of
my Lords Commissioners. With Mr. Winchester's good
conduct, under a sharp fire, in the morning, the service has
also every reason to be satisfied. I hope this valuable officer
will soon be able to return to duty. Cuffe read this report over twice; then he sent for Griffin,
to whom he read it aloud, glancing his eye meaningly at his
subordinate, when he came to the part where he spoke of
the young man's good conduct. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 154 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | | | | 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: | During the momentous five minutes occupied in these
private movements, Raoul affected to be gaping about
in vulgar astonishment, examining the guns, rigging, ornaments
of the quarter-deck, &c.; though, in truth, nothing
that passed among those near him, escaped his vigilant
attention. He was uneasy at the signs of the times, and
now regretted his own temerity; but still he thought his
incognito must be impenetrable. Like most persons, who
fancy they speak a foreign language well, he was ignorant,
too, in how many little things he betrayed himself; the
Englishman, cæteris paribus, usually pronouncing the Italian
better than the Frenchman, on account of the greater affinity
between his native language and that of Italy, in what
relates to emphasis and sounds. Such was the state of mind
of our hero, then, as he got an intimation that the captain
of the ship wished to see him below. Raoul observed, as he
descended the ladder, to comply with what sounded very
much like an order, that he was followed by the two Elban
functionaries. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 155 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Ned Myers, or, A life before the mast | | | | 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: | In consenting to lay before the world the experience of a
common seaman, and, I may add, of one who has been such
a sinner as the calling is only too apt to produce, I trust
that no feeling of vanity has had an undue influence. I
love the seas; and it is a pleasure to me to converse about
them, and of the scenes I have witnessed, and of the hardships
I have undergone on their bosom, in various parts of
the world. Meeting with an old shipmate who is disposed
to put into proper form the facts which I can give him, and
believing that my narrative may be useful to some of those
who follow the same pursuit as that in which I have been so
long engaged, I see no evil in the course I am now taking,
while I humbly trust it may be the means of effecting some
little good. God grant that the pictures I shall feel bound
to draw of my own past degradation and failings, contrasted
as they must be with my present contentment and hopes, may
induce some one, at least, of my readers to abandon the excesses
so common among seamen, and to turn their eyes in
the direction of those great truths which are so powerful to
reform, and so convincing when regarded with humility, and
with a just understanding of our own weaknesses. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 156 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Satanstoe, or, The Littlepage manuscripts | | | | 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: | Away we went! Guert's aim was the islands, which
carried him nearer home, while it offered a place of retreat,
in the event of the danger's becoming more serious. The
fierce rapidity with which we now moved prevented all conversation,
or even much reflection. The reports of the
rending ice, however, became more and more frequent, first
coming from above, and then from below. More than once
it seemed as if the immense mass of weight that had evidently
collected somewhere near the town of Albany, was
about to pour down upon us in a flood—when the river
would have been swept for miles, by a resistless torrent.
Nevertheless, Guert held on his way; firstly, because he
knew it would be impossible to get on either of the main
shores, anywhere near the point where we happened to be;
and secondly, because, having often seen similar dammings
of the waters, he fancied we were still safe. That the
distant reader may understand the precise character of the
danger we ran, it may be well to give him some notion of
the localities. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 157 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The chainbearer, or, The Littlepage manuscripts | | | | 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 father was Cornelius Littlepage, of Satanstoe, in the
county of West Chester, and State of New York; and my
mother was Anneke Mordaunt, of Lilacsbush, a place long
known by that name, which still stands near Kingsbridge,
but on the island of Manhattan, and consequently in one of
the wards of New York, though quite eleven miles from
town. I shall suppose that my readers know the difference
between the Island of Manhattan, and Manhattan Island;
though I have found soi-disant Manhattanese, of mature
years, but of alien birth, who had to be taught it. Lilacsbush,
I repeat therefore, was on the Island of Manhattan,
eleven miles from town, though in the city of New York,
and not on Manhattan Island. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 158 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The chainbearer, or, The Littlepage manuscripts | | | | 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: | For the first half hour after I left Ursula Malbone's hut,
I was literally unconscious of whither I was going, or of
what I was about. I can recollect nothing but having passed
quite near to the Onondago, who appeared desirous of
speaking to me, but whom I avoided by a species of instinct
rather than with any design. In fact, fatigue first brought
me fairly to my senses. I had wandered miles and miles,
plunging deeper and deeper into the wilds of the forest, and
this without any aim, or any knowledge of even the direction
in which I was going. Night soon came to cast its
shadows on the earth, and my uncertain course was held
amid the gloom of the hour, united to those of the woods. I
had wearied myself by rapid walking over the uneven surface
of the forest, and finally threw myself on the trunk of
a fallen tree, willing to take some repose. “As you have often professed a strong regard for me, I
now put you to the proof of the sincerity of your protestations.
My dear uncle goes to your father, whom I only
know by report, to demand the release of Major Littlepage,
who, we hear, is a prisoner in the hands of your family,
against all law and right. As it is possible the business of
uncle Chainbearer will be disagreeable to Thousandacres,
and that warm words may pass between them, I ask of your
friendship some efforts to keep the peace; and, particularly,
should anything happen to prevent my uncle from returning,
that you would come to me in the woods—for I shall accompany
the chainbearer to the edge of your clearing—
and let me know it. You will find me there, attended by
one of the blacks, and we can easily meet if you cross the
fields in an eastern direction, as I will send the negro to
find you and to bring you to me. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 159 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The redskins, or, Indian and Injin | | | | 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 uncle Ro and myself had been travelling together in
the East, and had been absent from home fully five years,
when we reached Paris. For eighteen months neither of us
had seen a line from America, when we drove through the
barriers, on our way from Egypt, via Algiers, Marseilles,
and Lyons. Not once, in all that time, had we crossed our
own track, in a way to enable us to pick up a straggling
letter; and all our previous precautions to have the epistles
meet us at different bankers in Italy, Turkey, and Malta,
were thrown away. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 160 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The oak openings, or, The bee-hunter | | | | 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: | We have heard of those who fancied that they beheld a
signal instance of the hand of the Creator in the celebrated
cataract of Niagara. Such instances of the power of sensible
and near objects to influence certain minds, only
prove how much easier it is to impress the imaginations
of the dull with images that are novel, than with those that
are less apparent, though of infinitely greater magnitude.
Thus, it would seem to be strange, indeed, that any human
being should find more to wonder at in any one of the phenomena
of the earth, than in the earth itself; or, should specially
stand astonished at the might of Him who created the
world, when each night brings into view a firmament studded
with other worlds, each equally the work of His hands! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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