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221Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Her majesty the queen  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “For the love of me, go to my wife.
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222Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Hilt to hilt, or, Days and nights on the banks of the Shenandoah in the autumn of 1864  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: In the first days of autumn, 1864, I left Petersburg, where Lee confronted Grant, to go on a tour of duty to the Shenandoah Valley, where Early confronted Sheridan.
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223Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Justin Harley  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Colonel Joshua Hartright, tall, portly, about sixty, wearing the dress of a Virginia planter, came hastily, one autumn morning, into the drawing-room of his house at “Oakhill,” on the south side of James River, and limping along with the assistance of his gold-headed cane, went into one of the windows and looked out upon the landscape. “Sir: I have reason to conclude that you have been borrowing money on your expectations, in connection with my late brother's property, to waste in reckless extravagance in foreign countries. I write this to inform you that, if I have a say in that matter, as I think I have, you will be dissappointed. I will not have the property of my brother George pass into the hands of money-lenders to supply your extravagance or your vices. “Sir: So be it. Life is, after all, so stupid an affair that justice or injustice are the same. “Sir: Be good enough to come to Oakhill as soon as it suits your convenience, as I have discovered a document in the handwriting of my late brother, addressed to yourself, which I should prefer to deliver into your hands rather than to entrust to a messenger, inasmuch as it is marked `important.' “My Dear St. Leger—I am called away this morning upon business, and may not possibly return until to-morrow or the next day. Try to amuse yourself. You must have returned late last night. Were you at Blandfield? These affairs are always renewed. Bon voyage, mon ami! “Justin Harley, Esq., Huntsdon. “Sir: Your reply to my letter is not satisfactory. I am compelled to raise the amount lent you on mortgage without delay. I therefore have to notify you that legal proceedings will be duly instituted to foreclose the mortgages, and recover the amount due as per statement yesterday, viz, £7200, 7s. 6d. “I am going away, and leave this for you; you will find it, for you will come.
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224Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: On a bright October morning, when the last century was rapidly going down hill, and all old things began to give way to the new, the sun was shining in upon the breakfast room at Apple Orchard with a joyous splendor, which, perhaps, he had never before displayed in tarrying at that domain, or any other. “Since seeing thee, on yester eve, my feelings have greatly changed in intensity, and I fluctuate beneath an emotion of oblivious delight. Alas! we young, weak women, try in vain to obstruct the gurgling of the bosom; for I perceive that even I am not proof against the arrows of the god Diana. My heart has thrilled, my dearest friend, ever since you departed, yester eve, with a devious and intrinsic sensation of voluminous delight. The feelings cannot be concealed, but must be impressed in words; or, as the great Milton says, in his Bucoliks, the o'er-fraught heart would break! Love, my dear Mr. Verty, is contiguons— you cannot be near the beloved object without catching the contagion, and to this fact I distribute that flame which now flickers with intense conflagration in my bosom. Why, cruel member of the other sex! did you evade the privacy of our innocent and nocturnal retreat, turning the salubrious and maiden emotions of my bosom into agonizing delight and repressible tribulation! Could you not practice upon others the wiles of your intrinsic charms, and spare the weak Sallianna, whose only desire was to contemplate the beauties of nature in her calm retreat, where a small property sufficed for all her mundane necessities? Alas! but yester morn I was cheerful and invigorating— with a large criterion of animal spirits, and a bosom which had never sighed responsible to the flattering vows of beaux. But now!—ask me not how I feel, in thinking of the person who has touched my indurate heart. Need I say that the individual in question has only to demand that heart, to have it detailed to him in all its infantile simplicity and diurnal self-reliance? Do not— do not—diffuse it! “Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon the pleasing scenes through which we have passed together— alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return— those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me: `To be or not to be—that is the question; Whether 'tis better in this world to bear The slings and arrows of—' I don't remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which, “I need not say how sorry I am to part with you. We have seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship will continue through after life. The next session will be dull without you—I do not mean to flatter—as you go away. You carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of, “You are destined for great things—it is yours to scale the heights of song, and snatch the crown from Ossa's lofty brow. Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!” “May your course in life be serene and happy; and may your friends be as numerous and devoted as the flies and mosquitos in the Eastern Range. “You ask me, my dear Ashley, to give you some advice, and write down my good wishes, if I have any in your direction. Of course I have, my dear fellow, and here goes. My advice first, then, is, never to drink more than three bottles of wine at one sitting—this is enough; and six bottles is, therefore, according to the most reliable rules of logic—which I hate—too much. You might do it if you had my head; but you havn't, and there's an end of it. Next, if you want to bet at races, ascertain which horse is the general `favorite,' and as our friend, the ostler, at the Raleigh says—go agin him. Human nature invariably goes wrong; and this a wise man will never forget. Next, if you have the playing mania, never play with anybody but gentlemen. You will thus have the consolation of reflecting that you have been ruined in good company, and, in addition, had your pleasure;—blacklegs ruin a man with a vulgar rapidity which is positively shocking. Next, my dear boy—though this I need'nt tell you—never look at Greek after leaving college, or Moral Philosophy, or Mathematics proper. It interferes with a man's education, which commences when he has recovered from the disadvantages of college. Lastly, my dear fellow, never fall in love with any woman—if you do, you will inevitably repent it. This world would get on quietly without them—as long as it lasted—and I need'nt tell you that the Trojan War, and other interesting events, never would have happened, but for bright, eyes, and sighs, and that sort of thing. If you are obliged to marry, because you have an establishment, write the names of your lady acquaintances on scraps of paper, put them in your hat, and draw one forth at random. This admirable plan saves a great deal of trouble, and you will inevitably get a wife who, in all things, will make you miserable.
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225Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Leather stocking and silk, or, Hunter John Myers and his times  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “You are very foolish Max. Why did you take all the trouble to write that note? Besides, I disapprove of such things. You must not write to my scholars. I know it was a jest, but it was wrong. I saw you in the mirror over the harpsichord, and Josephine gave me the note. I send my boots, as you call them. Why did you not ask for them? Always ask me for what you want. If it is in my power I will refuse you nothing that I can properly grant. You are very welcome to the shoes. “I must leave you, uncle; I ask your pardon for this act, because you have always been most kind to me, much kinder and more affectionate than I deserved, I know. Just now I was angry, my blood was hot and I uttered words which I should not have uttered. Pardon this, too—for my brain is still heated, and my hand trembles with agitation. I am going away, because I feel that I can not remain; not on account of your harsh words which irritated me at the moment; I no longer feel any irritation. It is not on account of those words, but because I should be miserable, a mere walking automaton, if I were to remain longer in the place where my heart has been so cruelly torn—not by any one's fault—no!— by my destiny. “Sir—I write to say that I shall be unavoidably absent from Virginia for a week or more. This explanation of my sudden departure I am called upon to make after what passed yesterday. There was no possibility of mistaking your meaning on that occasion—and I now make you as ample amends for my departure as I am able to do, by accepting your challenge in advance. Permit me to add that I disapprove of mortal combat on trifling grounds, and do not on this occasion consent to the meeting because any person—whether a lady or not—would ridicule me in the event of my refusal. I believe I should have enough of independence to meet the eyes of the whole world and return them their scornful laugh, did I choose to refuse an encounter of this description. No, sir; believe me, young as I am, I should never be moved by such opinion, whether it were the scorn of men, or that more dreadful thing the contemptuous pity of women. I meet you willingly because you have placed yourself in my way, and because I hate you. There is an honest word—if it is not very Christian.
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226Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Out of the foam  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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227Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Pretty Mrs. Gaston, and other stories  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Sir—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of to-day on the subject of the late Mr. Cleave's testamentary disposition of his estate, and to express my regret that the discovery of the wishes of the deceased in connection with Miss Bell should have taken place after so long a period of time. As the friend of the late Mr. Cleave, and if you will permit me to add, as the friend of yourself, I would suggest, as your most advisable course under all the circumstances, a prompt compliance with the terms of the instrument referred to. Miss Bell is, I am informed, a young lady of amiable disposition and great personal attractions, and I have no doubt would readily be brought to see the propriety of the arrangement in question. “Amiable Mr. Allan Gartrell: Your unappreciated friend, Mr. John Brown, presents his compliments, and begs to state that not finding a longer stay at your hospitable mansion agreeable to his feelings, he has reluctantly concluded to tear himself away.
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228Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  Surry of Eagle's-nest, or, The memoirs of a staff-officer serving in Virginia  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Having returned to “Eagle's-Nest,” and hung up a dingy gray uniform and batered old sabre for the inspection of my descendants, I propose to employ some leisure hours in recording my recollections, and describing, while they are fresh in my memory, a few incidents of the late Revolution. “General:—Hold your ground only ten minutes longer, and the enemy will fall back. I have captured a courier from General Shields. His line is ordered to retire. “General:—The bearer, Major Surry, of my staff, is sent to superintend the burial of my dead in the action yesterday, and look after the wounded. I have the honor to request that he may be permitted to pass your lines for that purpose. He will give any parole you require. “Will you lend me Colonel Surry for three or four days? “Certainly. “For the sake of one who fell at Kelly's Ford, March 17th, '63, an unknown Georgian sends you a simple cluster of young spring flowers. You loved the `gallant Pelham,' and your words of love and sympathy are `immortelles' in the hearts that loved him. I have never met you, I may never meet you, but you have a true friend in me. I know that sad hearts mourn him in Virginia, and a darkened home in Alabama tells the sorrow there. My friendship for him was pure as a sister's love, or a spirit's. I had never heard his voice. “For some time now it has been plain to me that our engagement is distasteful to you, and that you wish to be released from it. Considering the fact that you gave me ample encouragement, and never, until you met with a person whom I need not name, showed any dissatisfaction at the prospect of becoming Mrs. Baskerville, I might be justified in demanding the fulfilment of your engagement. But I do not wish to coerce the action of any young lady, however my feelings may be involved, and I scorn to take advantage of a compact made in good faith by my late father and myself. I therefore release you from your engagement. “I received your note. Thank you, sir! If I could have induced you to write that letter by kneeling before you, I should have knelt to you. “An unknown friend, who takes an interest in you, writes these lines, to put you in possession of facts which it is proper you should be acquainted with. “I have just had a visit from Mrs. Parkins, and she has made some astonishing disclosures, of the deepest importance to you. She declares that you have a son now living, and, before she left me, I succeeded in discovering that you will be able to learn all about him by visiting a Mrs. Bates, near Frederick City, Maryland, who is in some way connected with this mysterious affair. I think that Mrs. Parkins went to Maryland to inquire into this, with the design of obtaining a reward from you—but she has now left Elm Cottage, and I do not know where you will find her.
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229Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Requires cookie*
 Title:  The youth of Jefferson, or, A chronicle of college scrapes at Williamsburg, in Virginia, A.D. 1764  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ON a fine May morning in the year 1764,—that is to say, between the peace at Fontainebleau and the stamp act agitation, which great events have fortunately no connection with the present narrative,—a young man mounted on an elegant horse, and covered from head to foot with lace, velvet, and embroidery, stopped before a small house in the town or city of Williamsburg, the capital of Virginia. “You insulted a lady in my presence yesterday evening, and I demand from you a retraction of all that you uttered. I am not skilled in writing, but you will understand me. The friend who bears this will bring your answer. “For you know you begin `Mr. Hoffland!' as if you said, `Stand and deliver!'—I have read your note, and I am sure I shan't be able to write half as well. I am so young that, unfortunately, I have never had an affair, which is a great pity, for I would then know how to write beautiful long sentences that no one could possibly fail to understand. “Your note is not satisfactory at all. I did not quarrel with your opinion of yourself, and you know it. I was not foolish enough to be angry at your declaring that you wer engaged to some lady already. You spoke of a lady who is my friend, and what you said was insulting. “Stop!—I didn't say I was engaged to any lady: no misunderstanding. “I do not understand your note. You evade my request for an explanation. I think, therefore, that the shortest way will be to end the matter at once. “Oh, Mr. Denis, to shoot me in cold blood! Well, never mind! Of course it's a challenge. But who in the world will be my `friend'? Please advise me. You know Ernest ought not to—decidedly. He likes you, and you seemed to like Miss Lucy, who must be a very sweet girl as she is Ernest's sister. Therefore, as I have no other friend but Ernest, I should think we might arrange the whole affair without troubling him. I have been talking with some people, and they say I have `the choice of weapons'—because you challenged me, you know. I would rather fight with a sword, I think, than be shot, but I think we had better have pistols. I therefore suggest pistols, and I have been reading all about fighting, and can lay down the rules. “Your note is very strange. You ask me to advise you whom to take as your second; and then you lay down rules which I never heard of before. I suppose a gentleman can right his grievances without having to fight first and marry afterwards. What you write is so much like joking, that I do n't know what to make of it. You seem to be very young and inexperienced, sir, and you say you have no friend but Mowbray. “Joking, my dear fellow? Of course I was joking! Did you think I really was in earnest when I said that I was so handsome, and was engaged already, et cetera, and so forth, as one of my friends used to say? I was jesting! For on my sacred word of honor, I am not engaged to any one—and yet I could not marry Lucy. I am wedded already—to my own ideas! I am not my own master—and yet I have no mistress! “I am very glad you were joking, and I am glad you have said so with manly courtesy—though I am at a loss to understand why you wished to `tease' me. But I do n't take offence, and am sure the whole matter was a jest. I hope you will not jest with me any more upon such a subject—I am very hasty; and my experience has told me that most men that fall in duels, are killed for this very jesting. “Your apology is perfectly satisfactory.—But I forgot! I made the apology myself! Well, it's all the same, and I am glad we have n't killed each other—for then, you know, we would have been dead now.
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230Author:  Harte Bret 1836-1902Requires cookie*
 Title:  Condensed Novels and Other Papers  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “My Dear Boy:—I regret to inform you that in all probability you are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to say, was a highly improper person. Who your father may be, I really cannot say, but perhaps the Honorable Henry Boltrope, Captain R. N., may be able to inform you. Circumstances over which I have no control, have deferred this important disclosure.
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