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21Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Cavaliers of Virginia, Or, the Recluse of Jamestown  
 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 romance of history pertains to no human annals more strikingly than to the early settlement of Virginia. The mind of the reader at once reverts to the names of Raleigh, Smith, and Pocahontas. The traveller's memory pictures in a moment the ivy-mantled ruin of old Jamestown. Sir—I seize the first moment of your appearance in public, restored to health, to demand the satisfaction due for the grievous insult put upon me, on the night of the Anniversary Celebration, 16* in presence of the assembled gentry of the Colony. All proper arrangements will be made by my friend Ludwell, who will also await your answer. I have the honour to be your most obedient servant, Sir—Your note by the hands of Mr. Ludwell was this moment received. Your challenge is accepted. To-morrow morning at sunrise I will meet you. The length of my weapon will be furnished by my friend Dudley, who will convey this to Mr. Ludwell, as well as make all other arrangements on my behalf. I have the honour to be, yours, &c.
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22Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Cavaliers of Virginia, Or, the Recluse of Jamestown  
 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 lightning streamed athwart the heavens in quick and vivid flashes. One peal of thunder after another echoed from cliff to cliff, while a driving storm of rain, wind and hail, made the face of nature black and dismal. There was something frightfully congenial in this uproar of the contending elements with the storm raging in Bacon's heart, as he rushed from the scene of the catastrophe we have just witnessed. The darkness which succeeded the lurid and sulphureous flashes was not more complete and unfathomable than the black despair of his own soul. These vivid contrasts of light and gloom were the only stimulants of which he was susceptible, and they were welcomed as the light of his path! By their guidance he wildly rushed to his stable, saddled, led forth, and mounted his noble charger, his own head still uncovered. For once the gallant animal felt himself uncontrolled master of his movements, fleet as the wind his nimble heels measured the narrow limits of the island. A sudden glare of intense light served for an instant to reveal both to horse and rider that they stood upon the brink of the river, and a single indication of the rider's will was followed by a plunge into the troubled waves. Nobly and majestically he rose and sank with the swelling surges. His master sat erect in the saddle and felt his benumbed faculties revived, as he communed with the storm. The raging elements appeared to sympathize with the tumult of his own bosom. He laughed in horrid unison with the gambols of the lightning, and yelled with savage delight as the muttering thunder rolled over his head.
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23Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Knights of the Horse-shoe  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Dear Sir—This letter will be handed to you by one of the most unfortunate adherents of the Pretender. Start not my dear Sir—he is but one of the Scottish jacobins, and will in no wise compromise you. The very fact of his seeking your country is evidence enough if it were wanting, that he desires to be at peace from the toils and dangers of political partizanship. These are claims enough for citizenship you may think, but not warrant sufficient to claim your personal friendship. He has these also, for he was one of those unfortunate men who befriended and supported your late kinsman to the last. He protests that he will in no wise compromise your Excellency with the ministry or their adherents on your side of the water, and has begged me not to write, but knowing that you would delight to befriend so staunch an adherent of the unfortunate General, I have insisted on his taking a sealed packet at all events, as it would contain other matters than those relating purely to himself. And now for those matters. He will be accompanied by a great many ruined families of rather a higher class than that from which your immigrants are generally furnished—they, too, are worn out in spirit and in fortune, with the ceaseless struggles between the hereditary claimant of the crown and the present occupant. They see, also, breakers ahead. The Queen's health is far from being stable, and in case of her sudden demise there will be an awful struggle here. Are they not right then to gather up the little remnant of their property and seek an asylum on your peaceful shores? Your note of last night, containing an invitation to Temple Farm, from Kate, has just been received. I will go, but for a reason, among others, which I fear my ever kind friend, Kate, will consider any thing but complimentary—it is because this house is haunted, and I can no longer stay in it. Look not so grave, dear father, 'tis no ghost. I wish it was, or he was, for it is that same tedious, tiresome, persecuting, Harry Lee. I have been most anxiously expecting your return; but, as it seems, you have become a permanent fixture at Temple Farm, it is but right that I should grow along side of the parent stem. The townsfolk are even more anxious for your return than I am. I tell them you ran away from practice, but it seems the more you desire to run away from it, the more they run after you. Few people in this dreary world have been able to effect so much unmixed good as you have, and for that, I thank God. Dear Father, I have no desire to live but for your sake, and that the short time we are to live together may not be diminished by any act of mine, I will be with you presently. Our poor pensioners and invalids are all doing as well as usual, and I leave them in the hands of the Rev. Mr. Jones, who, I know, will care for them as we would. He is surely one of God's chosen instruments for doing good in this world. He has shouldered his cross in earnest, and devoutly does he labor to advance the Redeemer's kingdom. “Dear Sir.—You will no doubt be surprised that I date this letter from the county jail, instead of the barracks, but, Sir, so it is—deeply mortifying as it is to me to state the fact. I had scarcely alighted in the capital, after marching the soldiers to the garrison, before I was waited upon by the Deputy Sheriff of the county, with a bail writ, (or whatever that process is called by which the law seizes a man's person,) at the suit of Henry Lee, Esq., and for the very money which your Excellency was mainly instrumental in procuring at his hands for me. You will recollect, no doubt, that as a mere matter of form, (so the gentleman expressed it,) I gave him a note of hand for the amount. Unfortunately I paid away part of the sum for my passage money, and the remainder to recruit my dilapidated wardrobe, so that instant payment was out of the question. None of my new and kind friends were in the city. I had, indeed, hoped to find the good Doctor at home, but unfortunately for me he was absent in the country. “Dear Sir: I owe you an apology for the very abrupt manner in which I left your house, where I had been tacitly, as it were, left in charge of the ladies; but the fact is, Sir, that I found the young person whom you had hastily employed as Tutor, presumptuous and impertinent, and that I must either degrade myself by a personal encounter with him, or leave the premises. I chose the latter, and had hoped to have paid my respects to your Excellency before you left the capital, but was detained by unavoidable legal business until you had unfortunately left the city. It is useless now to enter into particulars as to his conduct in your absence; for the evidence is now before me, that he is such a gross impostor and swindler, that it is scarcely worth while to inquire into minor particulars of conduct. While I was in the very act of consulting Attorney General Clayton, (who is also my own legal adviser,) about the steps necessary to be taken in order to repossess the funds out of which I weakly suffer myself to be cheated, I received a ship letter by way of York. Whom does your Excellency suppose that letter was from? Why, sir, from Mr. Henry Hall, my cousin, the real gentleman, whose name and character this base impostor had assumed for the lowest purposes. You will recollect that I had written to the young man before this person appeared at your house, informing him of my aunt's will. This letter which I have received is in answer to that one, and states among other things that the writer would sail in the very first vessel for this country after the one which would bring the letter, so that by the time that this pseudo Mr. Hall manages to release himself from prison, where I have snugly stowed him, the real personage, whose name he has assumed, will be here to confront him. I am delighted that I am thus able to relieve your Excellency from the disagreeable duty of unmasking the impostor; for if your Excellency will permit me to say so, your kindly nature had so far led you astray with regard to this man, that you might have found it rather unpleasant to deal with him. Leave all that to me, Sir—I will give him his deserts, be well assured; and if he escapes with whole ears and a sound skin, he may thank the clemency of the law, and not mine. Dear Ellen: Such a friendship as ours can bear the imposition with which I am about to tax you. You know the sad tale of this poor Indian girl, and how it lacerates all our hearts afresh, even to look upon her; and knowing this, you will do all those little kindnesses for her that we cannot, and which her situation requires. She sees that we cannot look upon her with complacency, and now she misinterprets it. God knows we wish to wreak no vengeance upon her for my poor brother's death. Do make her sensible of all this. You, my dear Ellen, that know so well how to compass these delicate offices so much better than any one else—do give her all the comfort the case admits of, and administer such consolation as her peculiar nature requires. Explain to her our feelings, and that they are the farthest in the world removed from unkindness Oh, Ellen, you know what a shock we have sustained, and will, I know, acquit us of any mawkish sensibility in the case. I trust her entirely to your kindness and discretion. My father has just stepped in, and anticipating my object, begged to see this note; and he now begs me to say to you, that Wingina must be closely watched, else her brother will contrive some subtle scheme to whisk her off again. I again resume my sweet correspondence with you, after an interval it seems to me of an age: computed by what I have (may I not say we have) suffered. But during all my unexampled difficulties and trials, one constant soarce of consolation remained to me. It was your steady constancy. It is true, that for a time, I was laboring under a delusion in regard to it, but even during that time, you were as unwavering as before. No portion of blame can attach to you, that I was led astray. You, my Ellen, have been like my evening and morning star—the last ray of serene comfort at night, and the brightest dawn of hope in the morning. From day to day, and from year to year, have you clung to the memory of the youth to whom you plighted your young affections—through good and through evil report—through life and in death, (as was supposed) you have without wavering or turning aside, cherished the first bright morning dream of youthful love. Do you know, my Ellen, that the world scarcely believes in the reality of such early attachments enduring to the end. The heartless throng know not, my sweet playmate, of the little romantic world we possess within ourselves. They have all gone astray after strange gods, and cannot believe that others will be more true and devoted than they have been. Especially has the odium of all such failures been laid to the charge of your sex, but I am sure unjustly. The first slight or unkindness nearly always proceeds from the other, and this slight or unkindness cannot be blazoned to the world—it is hidden within the recesses of the sufferer's heart, and pride (perhaps proper maidenly pride) prevents it from ever being known. How happy are we my Ellen, that not a shadow of distrust has fallen out between us—if indeed I except your momentary confounding me with the gentleman whose name I had assumed, and my temporary mistake about my brother's marriage with you. You see I have brought myself to write that name. While I am upon the subject of Miss Elliot's engagement, permit me to explain one thing which I omitted in the hurry of departure, and the confusion which attended all its exciting scenes. That young lady though present at the masking scene at the Governor's house, and knowing of my design to present myself in disguise, among my old associates, was not made acquainted with the name or occupation which I would assume. The resolution to adopt that name was seized upon after the departure of that young lady and her father. Hence her supposition, on hearing that Mr. Hall had arrived in the Colony, that it was her own Henry. I am led to think of these things, by seeing, so frequently, this young gentleman, with whom I was, and am, on the most intimate terms. His distress of mind is truly pitiable—he appears like one physically alive and well, and yet dead to all hope. Not absolutely dead to all hope either, for you should have seen how the blessed, but dormant, faculty flashed up for a moment or two, when I told him, a little while ago, that there was a prospect of an expedition being sent ahead of the troops, in pursuit of the assassins and robbers who murdered our old friend and stole his mistress. Oh, if he could be sent off upon such an expedition, what a blessed relief the activity and excitement of the pursuit would be to him. But the Governor, though sympathizing fully with him and me, would not consent to it, and I must say his reasons were to me, satisfactory; not so, however, with my poor friend; he is dissatisfied with the Governor on account of it, and if it were not for my restraining and urgent counsel, he would start off, single handed, in pursuit. The fact is, his apprehensions for the fate of the poor girl, whether dead or alive, are so desponding, that the madness and rashness of such an adventure, only add new charms to it, in his eyes, and I can only seduce him from such wild designs by dwelling upon the known clemency of the Indians to other females, who have for months and years remained captives with them. I have exhausted all my recollections of the kind, and I have put the scout, Jarvis, in possession of his dreadful secret, and commanded him to detail all his knowledge favorable to my views. At this very moment he is walking with Joe, among the tall pines, his melancholy eye wandering among the stars, while Joe is telling a long story of a Mrs. Thompson, who was taken prisoner by them and carried beyond the mountains. I at first suspected my new forest friend, of romancing in the wildest vein, and inventing as he went along, for the justifiable purpose, as it seemed to me, of plucking the rooted sorrow from the heart of my friend, but I am satisfied now that it is a true narrative, because he recounted several circumstances about the route to the mountains, which he had before told me he had procured from an old lady, who had been a prisoner among the Indians. Seeing that he was, for the time, so absorbed with the story of the scout, I have stolen away, my Ellen, to hold this sweet converse with you. If you had but known the charming girl, about whom my friend thus mourns, you would neither be surprised nor jealous that even I feel an anxious interest in her fate. Think too of her sad history,—the loss of her uncle by whom she was adopted, and upon whom she doted as a father, little less fond than the real one whom she has now lost, also. Think, too, of the dreadful manner of their two deaths —of her nearest and dearest kinsmen. Then bring before your mind the highly educated, delicate and sensitive girl herself—torn from the reeking body of her deceased parent; and borne a captive among a rude and wild people, not one word of whose language she understands. Oh its a dreadful fate for one like her. She is a most lovely girl in every sense of the word, and as good as she is beautiful! I feel a double interest in her fate, because her sad lot is so much like my own. We were first wrecked by the same disastrous political storm—thrown upon the same shores, and among the same people for a time. Well Bill, I'm dad shamed if I don't bust if I don't write to you a spell—the fact is Bill, I've kept company with these here gold laced gentry so long that I'm gettin' spiled—fact! I rubbed myself all over last night head and ears with salt for fear on't. Yes, and if you and Charley and Ikey don't take keer, I'll cut you when I come back. But without any joke at all about it, I've got into the greatest mess that ever the likes of you clapped eyes on. There's that Mr. Hall—the real genuine Mr. Hall, the one as come last; O Lord if you could only see how he takes on—dash my flint, if I don't think he's a leetle teched in the upper story. All day long he rides that black horse—(and he's dressed in black you know) and looks as if he was a goin' to his grandmother's funeral. Poor lad, they say he's got cause enough, the yaller niggers have run away with his sweet heart, but you don't know nothin' about them sort of tender things, Bill, its only a throwin' of pearls before swine to tell you of 'em, else I would tell you that Mr. Hall and me is exactly in the same fix. Yes, you and Charley may laugh, confound you, if so be you ever spell this out, We're exactly in the same situation—the yaller niggers has run away with my sweet heart too. You know the little Ingin gal that asked me for that lock 'o hair, but you know al about it and what's the use of swettin' over agin. Well, Squire Lee, that Mr. Hall that was tried for killin' the Governor's son; well, he says she's a ruined gal, and to hear him talk, you'd think that she was dead and buried and he a sayin' of the funeral service over her. I tell you Bill, these gentry are queerish folks, they don't know nothin' of human nature. He says he wants to know if I would take another man's cast off mistress. Now, Bill, ain't her lover dead, and could'nt I make an honest woman of her, by a marryin' of her, I'd like to know that. But the best part of the story is to come yit. The Governor's been axed about it, and he's all agreed, and says moreover, that he'll settle fifty pounds a year on me, if the gal will have me. So you see, Bill, she's a fortune. Did'nt I tell you that I was a goin to seek my fortune, and that you had better come along. But I've talked about myself long enough, now let me tell you something of our betters. The old Governor, I tell you what, he's a tip top old feller, in the field. He don't know nothing about fightin' Ingins yit, but I'll tell you, he'll catch it mighty quick; he makes every one stand up to the rack, and as for running away from an enemy, it ain't in his dictionary. I am told he drinks gunpowder every mornin' in his bitters, and as for shootin,' he's tip top at that, too. He thinks nothin' of takin' off a wild turkeys' head with them there pistols of his'n. You may'nt believe the story about the gunpowder, but I got from old June, his shoe black, who sleeps behind his tent, and I reckon he ought to know, if any body does. He rides a hoss as if he rammed down the gunpowder with half a dozen ramrods. You ought to see him a ridin' a review of a mornin'. I swang if his cocked hat don't look like a pictur', and I'm told he's all riddled with bullets too, and that he sometimes picks the lead out of his teeth yit. He's a a whole team, Bill; set that down in your books. The next man to the Governor is Mr. Frank, that I told you of a while ago; he belongs to the gunpowder breed too he's got an eye like a eagle, and, Bill when they made a gintleman of him they spiled one of the best scouts in all these parts. If there's any fightin' you take my word for it, he'll have his share. Some of the men do say that he was for upsettin' the Queen when he was to England, and that's the reason he came over in disguise. One thing I know, he's got no airs about him; he talks to me just as he does to the Governor, and this present writin', as the lawyers say, is writ on his camp stool and with his pen and paper. I guess he'll find his pen druv up to the stump. Well, I suppose you want to know what I call this camp nigger foot for. I'll tell you, for I christened it myself. I was a followin' of a fresh trail as hard as one of the Governor's bounds arter a buck— when what should we light upon, but the track of of a big nigger's foot in the mud here among em—fact! I told the Governor afore I seed the print of the nigger's foot that they had had some spy or another at Williamsburg, else they would'nt a know'd the waggons as had the powder in 'em. Oh, I forgot to tell you that the yaller raskels killed one of the sentinels, and stole a heap of powder and lead. Yes, and they had the wagon tops marked with red paint. The ink would blister the paper, could I be guilty of the hypocrisy of commencing a letter to you with an endearing epithet, after all that is past and gone. Indeed, it was my intention never to have addressed you again in any manner this side of the grave. I thought you had done your worst towards me and mine, and I was resolved, if I could not forgive, that I would at least bear it in silence. But I was mistaken, you had not done your worst, as this night's experience teaches me. I find that my heart yearns towards every thing connected with the happy days of our infancy. Over many of these you have power, and through these you can wound me grievously. I do not, and will not, charge you with suborning one of our father's faithful servants to his own ruin and disgrace. I leave it entirely with you and your God.— But if even innocent, (which I trust in God you are,) yet you are responsible for their conduct. Nay, the world, even your old associates here, hold you now as the accessory before the fact, to this poor fellow's crime. Oh, Henry, how have your passions led you on, from step to step, to this degradation! Can you be the proud boy that I once knew as an affectionate brother? But I will not be weak; my object in writing is merely a matter of business. I have a proposition to make to you—it is that you abandon your home and country forever. Start not, but listen to me. You know that you will be largely indebted to me for the yearly proceeds of my property, every cent of which you have drawn, and which I understand you will not be able to repay, without sacrificing your own property. Now, I propose to give you a clear quittance for the whole of it, if you will sail for Europe before my return, and take poor Cæsar with you. I know that you can find means to liberate him— indeed, I do not think the Governor himself will be much displeased to find this scheme carried into effect upon his return. Reflect well upon it, and may God forgive you for your past errors. I shall never cease to pray not only for that, but that I may myself learn to grant you that tree and full forgiveness which I daily ask him for myself. Dear Frank.—But a few days have elapsed since your departure, yet it seems an age. Short as the time is, however, I must write now in compliance with my promise, or lose all opportunity of writing, until the expedition is on its return. The courier who takes this, it is hoped, will overtake you near the foot of the mountains. First and foremost, then, I must be selfish enough to begin at home. Out of the fullness of the heart the mouth speaketh, and I suppose the pen writeth. You will, I am sure, be surprised to learn that my father seems to miss your society even more than I. After your departure, he would sit up for hours, wrapped up in his own thoughts. At first I did not heed this particularly, because he often does so, when any of his patients are sick unto death; but I soon found that my caresses—a successful remedy generally—were entirely unheeded; and once I saw a tear stealing down his dear and venerable face. I could submit tacitly no longer, but begged him to tell me what disturbed him. He said he was beginning to find out my value just as he was about to lose me. “Dear father,” said I “I will never, never leave you. We have been too long all in all to each other!” Was I not right, Frank, in giving him this assurance, and will you not doubly assure him, when you come back? I know you will. “How can you make any such promise, my child,” he asked, “when you have given your whole heart and soul to another?” Now, was not this a strange speech for the good old man to make? Do you not discover a little—just a little—jealousy in it? I thought I did, and I laughed at the idea, though the tears were coursing each other down his cheeks faster than ever; and I taxed him with the strange manifestation. “Well,” said he, “have you not been wife, and daughter, and companion, and comforter, and nurse, and every thing to me—and how can I live, when all that gives life and cheerfulness to my house is gone? It will be putting out the light of mine eyes—for my Ellen, all is dark and dreary, when your shadow does not fall within the range of these fast failing orbs.” According to promise, you see I have begun to write you a letter—and one dozen have I commenced before, but tore them up, because I did not know exactly what word to prefix to your name. First I tried plain Bernard—that looked too cold and abrupt; and then Mr. Moore—and that appeared too business like and formal; and then I began without any prefix at all. At last, I went to Ellen in my distress, and she rated me roundly for being ashamed to salute with an endearing epithet a man to whom I had promised my hand, and given my heart. Nor was that all—she took me to task for still wrapping myself up in that reserve which the world compels us to wear, instead of endeavoring, as is my duty, (you know I call her Mrs. Duty,) to establish an unreserved confidence between us, and to learn and betray at the same time all those peculiarities of thought and feeling which go to make up our identity. As I told her, that is the very thing which I dread. My Dear, Sir—At length we have scaled the Blue Mountains, but not without a sharp skirmish with the savages, and many of them, I am sorry to say, were of those who so lately received our bounty, and were besides objects of such deep solicitude to us. All our labors, my dear Sir, towards civilizing and christianizing even the tributaries, have been worse than thrown away. Mr. Boyle's splendid scheme of philanthropy is a failure, and we, his humble agents, have no other consolation left, but a consciousness of having done our duty, with a perseverance which neither scorn nor scepticism could not turn aside. Let it not be said hereafter, that no effort was made in Virginis to treat the Aborigines with the same spirit of clemency and mildness which was so successful in Pennsylvania. Far greater efforts have been made by us, than was ever made in that favored colony. The difference in the result is no doubt owing to the fact, that the subjects with whom we have had to deal were irretrievably spoiled before they came under our charge—not so with those of Pennsylvania. I mention these things to you, because you know that it was my determination when I sat out, to cross the mountains, peaceably if I could, and forcibly if I must. The latter has been the alternative forced upon me. From almost the very moment of setting out, our steps have been dogged, and our flanks harrassed by these lawless men, and more than one murder has been committed upon our sentries. But of these things we can converse when we meet. I suppose you are anxious to hear something of the country, which I have so long desired to see with my own eyes. Well, Sir, the descriptions given to us at Temple Farm by the interpreter were not at all exaggerated, and were, besides, wonderfully accurate in a geographical point of view. It is indeed true enough that there are double ranges of mountains, and that the sources of the Mississippi do not rise here. We are now in a valley between these ranges, with the western mountains distinctly in view, and the eastern ones immediately in our rear. This valley seems to extend for hundreds of miles to the northeast and south-west, and may be some fifty or sixty broad. I learn from my prisoners that it has been mostly kept sacred by the Indians as a choice hunting ground, and has not been the permanent residence of any of them, but that they came and squatted during the hunting season. All this the interpreter kept (very wisely, as he thought, no doubt) to himself. We have not yet seen the miraculous boiling and medicinal springs, nor the bridge across the mountains; but parties of exploration are daily going out, and such extravagant accounts as they give of the game, and the country, and the rivers, and the magnificent prospects, beggar my pen to describe. I can see enough, my dear Sir, from the heights in my near neighborhood, to know that it is one of the most charming retreats in the world. I do not hesitate to predict that a second Virginia will grow up here, which will rival the famed shores of the Chesapeake; but the products will be different, and the people must be different; for it is a colder region. We have already had nipping frosts, and some ice upon the borders of the streams. I am once more writing from a couch of some pain and suffering, but thank God not like the last from which I addressed you that dismal letter, which I then supposed would be my last. I have no such apprehensions now. My wounds are in a fair way, and I am even permitted to walk about this large tent—(the Governor's marquee) and above all, I am permitted to write to you. My Dear Sir: I have received your letter of the 5th inst., and in reply to it, can only say what I some years past said to my friend George W. Summers,* *The Hon. Geo. W. Summers, the present representative in Congress, from the Kenawha District, in Virginia. on the subject of your letter. I said to him, that I had seen in the possession of the eldest branch of my family, a Golden Horse-Shoe set with garnets, and having inscribed on it the motto: “Sic juval transcendere montes,” which from tradition, I always understood was presented by Governor Spotswood, to my Grandfather, as one of many gentlemen who acompanied him across the mountains.
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24Author:  Child Lydia Maria Francis 1802-1880Requires cookie*
 Title:  Philothea  
 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 moon was moving through the heavens in silent glory—and Athens, with all her beautiful variety of villas, altars, statues, and temples, rejoiced in the hallowed light.
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25Author:  Child Lydia Maria Francis 1802-1880Requires cookie*
 Title:  Letters from New York  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: You ask what is now my opinion of this great Babylon: and playfully remind me of former philippics, and a long string of vituperative alliterations, such as magnificence and mud, finery and filth, diamonds and dirt, bullion and brass tape, &c. &c. Nor do you forget my first impression of the city, when we arrived at early dawn, amid fog and drizzling rain, the expiring lamps adding their smoke to the impure air, and close beside us a boat called the “Fairy Queen,” laden with dead hogs.
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26Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Spy  
 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 was near the close of the year 1780, that a solitary traveller was seen pursuing his way through one of the numerous little valleys of West-Chester. The easterly wind, with its chilling dampness, and increasing violence, gave unerring notice of the approach of a storm, which, as usual, might be expected to continue for several days: and the experienced eye of the traveller was turned, in vain, through the darkness of the evening, in quest of some convenient shelter, in which, for the term of his confinement by the rain, that already began to mix with the atmosphere in a thick mist, he might obtain such accommodations as his age and purposes required. Nothing, however, offered, but the small and inconvenient tenements of the lower order of inhabitants, with whom, in that immediate neighbourhood, he did not think it either safe or politic to trust himself.
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27Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lionel Lincoln, Or, the Leaguer of Boston  
 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: No American can be ignorant of the principal events that induced the parliament of Great Britain, in 1774, to lay those impolitic restrictions on the port of Boston, which so effectually destroyed the trade of the chief town in her western colonies. Nor should it be unknown to any American, how nobly, and with what devotedness to the great principles of the controversy, the inhabitants of the adjacent town of Salem refused to profit by the situation of their neighbours and fellow-subjects. In consequence of these impolitic measures of the English government, and of the laudable unanimity among the capitalists of the times, it became a rare sight to see the canvass of any other vessels than such as wore the pennants of the king, whitening the forsaken waters of Massachusetts bay.
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28Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lionel Lincoln, or, The Leaguer of Boston  
 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: Although the battle of Bunker-hill was fought while the grass yet lay on the meadows, the heats of summer had been followed by the nipping frosts of November; the leaf had fallen in its hour, and the tempests and biting colds of February had succeeded, before Major Lincoln left that couch where he had been laid, when carried, in total helplessness, from the fatal heights of the peninsula. Throughout the whole of that long period, the hidden bullet had defied the utmost skill of the British surgeons; nor could all their science and experience embolden them to risk cutting certain arteries and tendons in the body of the heir of Lincoln, which were thought to obstruct the passage to that obstinate lead, which, all agreed, alone impeded the recovery of the unfortunate sufferer. This indecision was one of the penalties that poor Lionel paid for his greatness; for had it been Meriton who lingered, instead of his master, it is quite probable the case would have been determined at a much earlier hour. At length a young and enterprising leech, with the world before him, arrived from Europe, who, possessing greater skill or more effrontery (the effects are sometimes the same) than his fellows, did not hesitate to decide at once on the expediency of an operation. The medical staff of the army sneered at this bold innovator, and at first were content with such silent testimonials of their contempt. But when the friends of the patient, listening, as usual, to the whisperings of hope, consented that the confident man of probes should use his instruments, the voices of his contemporaries became not only loud, but clamorous. There was a day or two when even the watch-worn and jaded subalterns of the army forgot the dangers and hardships of the siege, to attend with demure and instructed countenances to the unintelligible jargon of the “Medici” of their camp; and men grew pale, as they listened, who had never been known to exhibit any symptoms of the disgraceful passion before their more acknowledged enemies. But when it became known that the ball was safely extracted, and the patient was pronounced convalescent, a calm succeeded that was much more portentous to the human race than the preceding tempest; and in a short time the daring practitioner was universally acknowledged to be the founder of a new theory. The degrees of M. D. were showered upon his honoured head from half the learned bodies in Christendom, while many of his enthusiastic admirers and imitators became justly entitled to the use of the same magical symbols, as annexments to their patrony micks, with the addition of the first letter in the alphabet. The ancient reasoning was altered to suit the modern facts, and before the war was ended, some thousands of the servants of the crown, and not a few of the patriotic colonists, were thought to have died, scientifically, under the favour of this important discovery.
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29Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Red Rover  
 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 submitting this hastily-composed and imperfect picture of a few scenes, peculiar to the profession, to your notice, dear Shubrick, I trust much more to your kind feelings than to any merit in the execution. Such as it may be, however, the book is offered as another tribute to the constant esteem and friendship of No one, who is familiar with the bustle and activity of an American commercial town, would recognize, in the repose which now reigns in the ancient mart of Rhode Island, a place that, in its day, has been ranked amongst the most important ports along the whole line of our extended coast. It would seem, at the first glance, that nature had expressly fashioned the spot to anticipate the wants and to realize the wishes of the mariner. Enjoying the four great requisites of a safe and commodious haven, a placed basin, an outer harbour, and a convenient roadstead, with a clear offing, Newport appeared, to the eyes of our European ancestors, designed to shelter fleets and to nurse a race of hardy and expert seamen. Though the latter anticipation has not been entirely disappointed, how little has reality answered to expectation in respect to the former! A successful rival has arisen, even in the immediate vicinity of this seeming favourite of nature, to defeat all the calculations of mercantile sagacity, and to add another to the thousand existing evidences “that the wisdom of man is foolishness.” “An accident has disabled the Master of the out “ward-bound ship called the `Royal Caroline!' Her “consignee is reluctant to intrust her to the officer “next in rank; but sail she must. I find she has “credit for her speed. If you have any credentials “of character and competency, profit by the occasion, “and earn the station you are finally destined to fill. “You have been named to some who are interested, “and you have been sought diligently. If this reach “you in season, be on the alert, and be decided. “Show no surprise at any co-operation you may un “expectedly meet. My agents are more numerous “than you had believed. The reason is obvious; “gold is yellow, though I am
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30Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Red Rover  
 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 weight of the tempest had been felt at that hapless moment when Earing and his unfortunate companions were precipitated from their giddy elevation into the sea. Though the wind continued to blow long after this fatal event, it was with a constantly diminishing power. As the gale decreased, the sea began to rise, and the vessel to labour in proportion. Then followed two hours of anxious watchfulness on the part of Wilder, during which the whole of his professional knowledge was needed, in order to keep the despoiled hull of the Bristol trader from becoming a prey to the greedy waters. His consummate skill, however, proved equal to the task that was required at his hands; and, just as the symptoms of day were becoming visible along the east, both wind and waves were rapidly subsiding together. During the whole of this doubtful period, our adventurer did not receive the smallest assistance from any of the crew, with the exception of two experienced seamen whom he had previously stationed at the wheel. But to this neglect he was indifferent; since little more was required than his own judgment, seconded, as it faithfully was, by the exertions of the mariners more immediately under his eye.
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31Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Wept of Wish-ton-wish  
 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 incidents of this tale must be sought in a remote period of the annals of America. A colony of self-devoted and pious refugees from religious persecution had landed on the rock of Plymouth, less than half a century before the time at which the narrative commences; and they, and their descendants, had already transformed many a broad waste of wilderness into smiling fields and cheerful villages. The labors of the emigrants had been chiefly limited to the country on the coast, which, by its proximity to the waters that rolled between them and Europe, afforded the semblance of a connexion with the land of their forefathers and the distant abodes of civilization. But enterprise, and a desire to search for still more fertile domains, together with the temptation offered by the vast and unknown regions that lay along their western and northern borders, had induced many bold adventurers to penetrate more deeply into the forests. The precise spot, to which we desire to transport the imagination of the reader, was one of these establishments of what may, not inaptly, be called the forlorn-hope, in the march of civilization through the country.
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32Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Wept of Wish-ton-wish  
 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 already been said, that the hour at which the action of the tale must re-commence, was early morning. The usual coolness of night, in a country extensively covered with wood, had passed, and the warmth of a summer morning, in that low latitude, was causing the streaks of light vapor, that floated about the meadows, to rise above the trees. The feathery patches united to form a cloud that sailed away towards the summit of a distant mountain, which appeared to be a common rendezvous for all the mists that had been generated by the past hours of darkness.
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33Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Bravo  
 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 sun had disappeared behind the summits of the Tyrolean Alps, and the moon was already risen above the low barrier of the Lido. Hundreds of pedestrians were pouring out of the narrow streets of Venice into the square of St. Mark, like water gushing through some strait aqueduct, into a broad and bubbling basin. Gallant cavalieri and grave cittadini; soldiers of Dalmatia, and seamen of the galleys; dames of the city, and females of lighter manners; jewellers of the Rialto, and traders from the Levant; Jew, Turk, and Christian; traveller, adventurer, podestà, valet, avvocato and gondolier, held their way alike to the common centre of amusement. The hurried air and careless eye; the measured step and jealous glance; the jest and laugh; the song of the cantatrice, and the melody of the flute; the grimace of the buffoon, and the tragic frown of the improvisatore; the pyramid of the grotesque, the compelled and melancholy smile of the harpist, cries of water-sellers, cowls of monks, plumage of warriors, hum of voices, and the universal movement and bustle, added to the more permanent objects of the place, rendered the scene the most remarkable of Christendom.
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34Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Bravo  
 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 the Carmelite re-entered the apartment of Donna Violetta, his face was covered with the hue of death, and his limbs with difficulty supported him to a chair. He scarcely observed that Don Camillo Monforte was still present, nor did he note the brightness and joy which glowed in the eyes of the ardent Violetta. Indeed his appearance was at first unseen by the happy lovers, for the Lord of St. Agata had succeeded in wresting the secret from the breast of his mistress, if that may be called a secret which Italian character had scarcely struggled to retain, and he had crossed the room before even the more tranquil look of the Donna Florinda rested on his person.
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35Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Heidenmauer, Or, the Benedictines  
 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 reader must imagine a narrow and secluded valley, for the opening scene of this tale. The time was that in which the day loses its power, casting a light on objects most exposed, that resembles colors seen through glass slightly stained; a peculiarity of the atmosphere, which, though almost of daily occurrence in summer and autumn, is the source of constant enjoyment to the real lover of nature. The hue meant is not a sickly yellow, but rather a soft and melancholy glory, that lends to the hill-side and copse, to tree and tower, to stream and lawn, those tinges of surpassing loveliness that impart to the close of day its proverbial and soothing charm. The setting sun touched with oblique rays a bit of shaven meadow, that lay in a dell so deep as to owe this parting smile of nature to an accidental formation of the neighboring eminences, a distant mountain crest, that a flock had cropped and fertilized, a rippling current that glided in the bottom, a narrow beaten path, more worn by hoof than wheel, and a vast range of forest, that swelled and receded from the view, covering leagues of a hill-chase, that even tradition had never peopled. The spot was seemingly as retired as if it had been chosen in one of our own solitudes of the wilderness; while it was, in fact, near the centre of Europe, and in the sixteenth century. But, notwithstanding the absence of dwellings, and all the other signs of the immediate presence of man, together with the wooded character of the scene, an American eye would not have been slow to detect its distinguishing features, from those which mark the wilds of this country. The trees, though preserved with care, and flourishing, wanted the moss of ages, the high and rocking summit, the variety and natural wildness of the western forest. No mouldering trunk lay where it had fallen, no branch had been twisted by the gale and forgotten, nor did any upturned root betray the indifference of man to the decay of this important part of vegetation. Here and there, a species of broom, such as is seen occasionally on the mast-heads of ships, was erected above some tall member of the woods that stood on an elevated point; land-marks which divided the rights of those who were entitled to cut and clip; the certain evidence that man had long before extended his sway over these sombre hills, and that, retired as they seemed, they were actually subject to all the divisions, and restraints, and vexations, which, in peopled regions, accompany the rights of property.
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36Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Heidenmauer, Or, the Benedictines  
 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 cottage of Lottchen, the mother of Berchthold, was distinguished from the other habitations of the hamlet, only by its greater neatness, and by that air of superior comfort which depends chiefly on taste and habit, and of which poverty itself can scarcely deprive those who have been educated in the usages and opinions of a higher caste. It stood a little apart from the general cluster of humble roofs; and, in addition to its other marks of superiority, it possessed the advantage of a small inclosure, by which it was partially removed from the publicity and noise that rob most of the villages and hamlets of Europe of a rural character.
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37Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Headsman, Or, the Abbaye Des Vignerons  
 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 year was in its fall, according to a poetical expression of our own, and the morning bright, as the fairest and swiftest bark that navigated the Leman lay at the quay of the ancient and historical town of Geneva, ready to depart for the country of Vaud. This vessel was called the Winkelried, in commemoration of Arnold of that name, who had so generously sacrificed life and hopes to the good of his country, and who deservedly ranks among the truest of those heroes of whom we have well-authenticated legends. She had been launched at the commencement of the summer, and still bore at the fore-top-mast-head a bunch of evergreens, profusely ornamented with knots and streamers of riband, the offerings of the patron's female friends, and the fancied gage of success. The use of steam, and the presence of unemployed seamen of various nations, in this idle season of the warlike, are slowly leading to innovations and improvements in the navigation of the lakes of Italy and Switzerland, it is true; but time, even at this hour, has done little towards changing the habits and opinions of those who ply on these inland waters for a subsistence. The Winkelreid had the two low, diverging masts; the attenuated and picturesquely-poised latine yards; the light, triangular sails; the sweeping and projecting gangways; the receding and falling stern; the high and peaked prow, with, in general, the classical and quaint air of those vessels that are seen in the older paintings and engravings. A gilded ball glittered on the summit of each mast, for no canvass was set higher than the slender and well-balanced yards, and it was above one of these that the wilted bush, with its gay appendages, trembled and fluttered in a fresh western wind. The hull was worthy of so much goodly apparel, being spacious, commodious, and, according to the wants of the navigation, of approved mould. The freight, which was sufficiently obvious, much the greatest part being piled on the ample deck, consisted of what our own watermen would term an assorted cargo. It was, however, chiefly composed of those foreign luxuries, as they were then called, though use has now rendered them nearly indispensable to domestic economy, which were consumed, in singular moderation, by the more affluent of those who dwelt deeper among the mountains, and of the two principal products of the dairy; the latter being destined to a market in the less verdant countries of the south. To these must be added the personal effects of an unusual number of passengers, which were stowed on the top of the heavier part of the cargo, with an order and care that their value would scarcely seem to require. The arrangement, however, was necessary to the convenience and even to the security of the bark, having been made by the patron with a view to posting each individual by his particular wallet, in a manner to prevent confusion in the crowd, and to leave the crew space and opportunity to discharge the necessary duties of the navigation.
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38Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Headsman, Or, the Abbaye Des Vignerons  
 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: While the mummeries related were exhibiting in the great square, Maso, Pippo, Conrad, and the others concerned in the little disturbance connected with the affair of the dog, were eating their discontent within the walls of the guard-house. Vevey has several squares, and the various ceremonies of the gods and demigods were now to be repeated in the smaller areas. On one of the latter stands the town-house and prison. The offenders in question had been summarily transferred to the gaol, in obedience to the command of the officer charged with preserving the peace. By an act of grace, however, that properly belonged to the day, as well as to the character of the offence, the prisoners were permitted to occupy a part of the edifice that commanded a view of the square, and consequently were not precluded from all participation in the joyousness of the festivities. This indulgence had been accorded on the condition that the parties should cease their wrangling, and otherwise conduct themselves in a way not to bring scandal on the exhibition in which the pride of every Vévaisan was so deeply enlisted. All the captives, the innocent as well as the guilty, gladly subscribed to the terms; for they found themselves in a temporary duresse which did not admit of any fair argument of the merits of the case, and there is no leveller so effectual as a common misfortune.
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39Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Monikins  
 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: “Providence brought us together for more purposes than were, at first, apparent. I have long hesitated about publishing the accompanying narrative, for in England there is a disposition to cavil at extraordinary facts, but the distance of America from my place of residence will completely save me from ridicule. The world must have the truth, and I see no better means than by resorting to your agency. All I ask is that you will have the book fairly printed, and that you will send one copy to my address, Householder-hall, Dorsetshire, England, and another to Capt. Noah Poke, Stonington, Connecticut, in your own country. My Anna prays for you, and is ever your friend. Do not forget us. Dear Sir,—Your favour is come to hand, and found me in good health, as I hope these few lines will have the same advantage with you. I have read the book, and must say there is some truth in it, which, I suppose, is as much as befalls any book, the Bible, the Almanac, and the State Laws, excepted. I remember Sir John well, and shall gainsay nothing he testifies to, for the reason that friends should not contradict each other. I was also acquainted with the four Monikins he speaks of, though I knew them by differentnames. Miss Poke says she wonders if it's all true, which I wunt tell her, seeing that a little unsartainty makes a woman rational. As to my navigating without geometry, that's a matter that was'n't worth booking, for it's no cur'osity in these parts, bating a look at the compass once or twice a day, and so I take my leave of you, with offers to do any commission for you among the Sealing Islands, for which I sail to-morrow, wind and weather permitting. The philosopher who broaches a new theory is bound to furnish, at least, some elementary proofs of the reasonableness of his positions, and the historian who ventures to record marvels that have hitherto been hid from human knowledge, owes it to a decent regard to the opinions of others, to produce some credible testimony in favor of his veracity. I am peculiarly placed in regard to these two great essentials, having little more than its plausibility to offer in favor of my philosophy, and no other witness than myself to establish the important facts that are now about to be laid before the reading world, for the first time. In this dilemma, I fully feel the weight of responsibility under which I stand; for there are truths of so little apparent probability as to appear fictions, and fictions so like the truth that the ordinary observer is very apt to affirm that he was an eye-witness to their existence: two facts that all our historians would do well to bear in mind, since a knowledge of the circumstances might spare them the mortification of having testimony that cost a deal of trouble, discredited in the one case, and save a vast deal of painful and unnecessary labor, in the other. Thrown upon myself, therefore, for what the French call les pièces justîficatives of my theories, as well as of my facts, I see no better way to prepare the reader to believe me, than by giving an unvarnished narrative of my descent, birth, education and life, up to the time I became a spectator of those wonderful facts it is my happiness to record, and with which it is now his to be made acquainted. I have this moment heard of your being in town, and am exceedingly rejoiced to learn it. A long intimacy with your late excellent and most loyal father, justifies my claiming you for a friend, and I waive all ceremony, (official, of course, is meant, there being no reason for any other between us,) and beg to be admitted for half an hour. I met your old neighbor —, this morning, on the boulevards, and during an interview of an hour we did little else but talk of thee. Although it has been my most ardent and most predominant wish to open my heart to the whole species, yet, Anna, I fear I have loved thee alone! Absence, so far from expanding, appears to contract my affections, too many of which centre in thy sweet form and excellent virtues. The remedy I proposed is insufficient, and I begin to think that matrimony alone can leave me master of sufficient freedom of thought and action, to turn the attention I ought to the rest of the human race. Thou hast been with me in idea, in the four corners of the earth, by sea and by land, in dangers and in safety, in all seasons, regions and situations, and there is no sufficient reason why those who are ever present in the spirit, should be materially separated. Thou hast only to say a word, to whisper a hope, to breathe a wish, and I will throw myself, a repentant truant, at thy feet, and implore thy pity. When united, however, we will not lose ourselves in the sordid and narrow paths of selfishness, but come forth again, in company, to acquire a new and still more powerful hold on this beautiful creation, of which, by this act, I acknowledge thee to be the most divine portion. Thy letter was put into my hands yesterday. This is the fifth answer I have commenced, and you will therefore see that I do not write without reflection. I know thy excellent heart, John, better than it is known to thyself. It has either led thee to the discovery of a secret of the last importance to thy fellow-creatures, or it has led thee cruelly astray. An experiment so noble and so praiseworthy, ought not to be abandoned, on account of a few momentary misgivings concerning the result. Do not stay thy eagle flight, at the instant thou art soaring so near the sun! Should we both judge it for our mutual happiness, I can become thy wife at a future day. We are still young, and there is no urgency for an immediate union. In the mean time, I will endeavor to prepare myself to be the companion of a philanthropist, by practising on thy theory, and, by expanding my own affections, render myself worthy to be the wife of one who has so large a stake in society, and who loves so many and so truly. “At a full and overflowing meeting of the most monikinized of the monikin race, holden at the house of Peleg Pat, (we still used the human appellations, at that epoeh,) in the year of the world 3,007, and of the monikin era 317, Plausible Shout was called to the chair, and Ready Quill was named secretary.
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40Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Monikins  
 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 soon secured rooms, ordered dinner, brushed our clothes, and made the other little arrangements that it was necessary to observe for the credit of the species. Everything being ready, we left the inn, and hurried towards the “Palais des Arts et des Sciences.” We had not got out of sight of the inn, however, before one of its garçons was at our heels with a message from his mistress. He told us, in very respectful tones, that his master was out, and that he had taken with him the key of the strong-box; that there was not actually money enough in the drawer to furnish an entertainment for such great persons as ourselves, and she had taken the liberty to send us a bill receipted, with a request that we would make a small advance, rather than reduce her to the mortification of treating such distinguished guests in an unworthy manner. The bill read as follows:— “Sir,” said I, pulling off my hat with a profound reverence, “I was not aware to whom I had the honor of speaking. You appear to fill a variety of employments, and I make no doubt, with equal skill.” The undersigned, Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of the North-Western Leaplow Confederate Union, has the honor to inform the Secretary of State, that our interests in this portion of the earth are, in general, on the best possible footing; our national character is getting every day to be more and more elevated; our rights are more and more respected, and our flag is more and more whitening every sea. After this flattering and honorable account of the state of our general concerns, I hasten to communicate the following interesting particulars. AFFIDAVIT.
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