| | 21 | Author: | Poe
Edgar Allan
1809-1849 | Add | | | 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: | With a feeling of deep yet most singular affection
I regarded my friend Morella. Thrown by accident
into her society many years ago, my soul, from our
first meeting, burned with fires it had never before
known; but the fires were not of Eros; and bitter
and tormenting to my spirit was the gradual conviction
that I could in no manner define their unusual
meaning, or regulate their vague intensity. Yet we
met; and fate bound us together at the altar; and I
never spoke of passion, nor thought of love. She,
however, shunned society, and, attaching herself to
me alone, rendered me happy. It is a happiness to
wonder;—it is a happiness to dream. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 22 | Author: | Sargent
Epes
1813-1880 | Add | | | Title: | Fleetwood, Or, the Stain of Birth | | | | 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: | Midnight brought with it no abatement of the
violence of the gale. During the day it had swept
in eddying gusts through the broad avenues and
narrow cross-streets of the city, carrying desolation
and dismay—prostrating chimneys—scattering
the slates from the roofs—and making sad havoc
with the wooden signs, which adorned the districts
devoted to traffic. One man, as he was passing up
Broadway, had been knocked on the head by the
shaft of a canvass awning, and instantly killed.
Others had been severely bruised by the flying
fragments, strewn at random by the blast. “You were decidedly right in resisting your
mother's importunities to leave Soundside until you
had heard from me. I shall not forget such a proof
of your attachment and fidelity. My business here
is of that importance that I cannot possibly quit the
city till Friday afternoon. Otherwise I would
most gladly fly to you at once. Under these circumstances,
and since your mother is so exceedingly
anxious to have you accompany her, I do not
see but that we had better yield to her wishes.
Our marriage can as well take place here as at
Soundside; and I see no good reason why it should
be deferred beyond the period we originally fixed.
Present my respects to your mother, and tell her
that for her daughter's sake she shall be dear.
Should you see Glenham, remember me to him
kindly. I owe him much. Poor fellow! he has
cause to envy me your affection; but I know that
he is incapable of any such passion. Apply to him
unreservedly, should you have occasion for friendly
and discreet advice. Let me know you mother's
address, that I may call as soon as you reach the
city. I am compelled to write in haste, as I only
received your letter a few minutes since, and mine
will miss the mail if I delay even to tell you with
how much sincerity and love, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 23 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Mary Hollis | | | | 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: | Many persons, in the village of ———, in Massachusetts,
remember Mary Lowe, a diligent, ingenious
little girl of a respectable family, who was left an orphan
when quite young, with a very slender provision,
which her guardians wisely expended, in obtaining for
her a decent education and the tayloring trade. She
went from house to house, eating her bread in singleness
of heart. She was approved by the elderly and
judicious, for her prudent, industrious, and quiet ways;
and she made herself the delight of all the children, by
her obliging disposition and good humour. The little
boys said, “Mary would always put pockets in their
clothes;” and the older boys, who longed to be emancipated
from the indignity of having their clothes made
by a woman-taylor, were still conciliated by Mary's
gentle manners, and a little, too, by the smart look
which she contrived to give to their apparel. I think
I can see her now bending over her goose, and as it
heavily trod the seams, singing some playful song to
the little group around her; and smiling and blushing
as she caught the approving glances of the elders of
the family. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 24 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | 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: | On the last day of June, in the
year —, a small vessel, which traversed
weekly the waters of Lake Champlain,
was seen slowly entering one of the
most beautiful bays of that most beautiful
lake. A travelling carriage with
handsome equipments, a coachman in
livery and an outrider, were drawn up
on the shore, awaiting the approach of
the vessel. On the deck stood a group
of travellers for whom the equipage
was destined: a beautiful young woman,
and her attendant, a female slave, were
surveying it with pleased and equal
eagerness, while the father of the young
lady seemed quite absorbed in the contemplation
of a scene which poetry and
painting have marked for their own.
Not a breeze stirred the waters; their
mirror surface was quite unbroken, save
where the little vessel traced its dimpled
pathway. A cluster of islands lay in
beautiful fraternity opposite the harbour,
covered with a rich growth of wood,
and looking young, and fresh, and
bright, as if they had just sprung from
the element on which they seemed to
repose. The western shore presented
every variety of form; wooded headlands
jutting boldly into the lake, and
richly cultivated grounds sloping gently
to its margin. As the traveller's delighted
eye explored still farther, it
B 2
rested on the mountains that rise in four
successive chains, one above the other,
the last in the far distance dimly defining
and bounding the horizon. A cloud
at this moment veiled the face of the
sun, and its rich beams streamed aslant
upon the mountain tops, and poured
showers of gold and purple light into
the deep recesses of the valleys. Mr.
Redwood, a true admirer of nature's
lovely forms, turned his unsated gaze to
the village they were approaching,
which was indicated by a neat church
spire that peered over the hill, on the
height and declivities of which were
planted several new and neat habitations.
“Oh Caroline, my child,” exclaimed
the father, “was there ever
any thing more beautiful!” “Some months have elapsed, dear
Alsop, since we parted, and parted with
a truly juvenile promise to keep up
an unremitting epistolary intercourse.
And this I believe is the first essay made
by either of us; a fair illustration of the
common proportion which performance
bears to such promises. You, no doubt,
have been roving from pleasure to pleasure,
with an untiring impulse, and your
appetite, like the horse-leech, has still
cried, `give, give.' If one of your
vagrant thoughts has strayed after me,
you have doubtless fancied me immured
in my study, pursuing my free inquiries,
abandoning the fallen systems of vulgar
invention, and soaring far over the
misty atmosphere of imposture and credulity.
Or, perhaps, you deem that I
have adopted your sapient advice, have
returned to my home a dutiful child,
gracefully worn the chains of filial obedience,
made my best bow to papa, and
with a, `just as you please, Sir,' fallen,
secundum artem, desperately in love
with my beautiful, and beautifully rich
cousin; have rather taken than asked
her willing hand, and thus opened for
myself the path of ambition, or the
golden gates that lead to the regions of
pleasure, and which none but fortune's
hand can open, But, alas! the most
reasonable hopes are disappointed by
our fantastic destiny. We are the sport
of chance; and as we confess no other
deity, you are bound not to deride any
of the whimsical dilemmas into which
his votaries are led. Alsop, you have
often commended the boldness of my
mind, while you laughed at a certain
involuntary homage I paid to the beautiful
pictures of goodness, which some
dreaming enthusiasts have presented to
us, or to the moral beauty which among
all the varieties of accidental combination,
is sometimes exhibited in real
life. “I am grateful for your interest, and
convinced by your arguments that I
ought no longer to doze away my brief
existence in this retirement. I have obtained
my father's consent to the arrangement
you propose; and what is still
more indispensable, an ample supply in
consideration of a promise I have given
to him, that I will solicit the hand of my
cousin immediately after my return. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 25 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | 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: | Those only who have observed the
magical effect produced upon a young
lady by the presence of a candidate for
her favour, whom she deems it worth
her efforts to obtain or retain, can have
an adequate notion of the change wrought
on Caroline Redwood since the arrival
of the Westalls. Instead of the listless,
sullen girl, who yawned away her days
in discontent or apathy, she became spirited,
active, and good-humoured. Even
her interest in the concerns of Ellen
Bruce, and her suspicions of that artless
girl's designs, were suspended in the
ardour of her present pursuit, and she
seemed to think of nothing and to care
for nothing but how she should secure
the triumph of her vanity. Every one
noticed the change; (excepting Ellen,
who had of late almost wholly withdrawn
from the family circle) indeed, it
was so manifest that Miss Deborah, who
had taken a decided dislike to Caroline,
and who was rather remarkable for the
inveteracy of her opinions, was heard to
say, that “since the girl's sweetheart
had come, she was as bright as a September
day after the fog was lifted; but
for her part she liked to see people have
sunshine within them like Ellen.” This
declaration was made by Miss Debby in
an imprudently loud tone of voice, as
she stood at a window gazing on Mr.
Redwood's carriage that had been ordered
for an afternoon's drive. Mr. Redwood,
Caroline, and Mrs. Westall were
B 2
already in the carriage, and Charles
Westall had returned to the parlour in
quest of some article Mr. Redwood had
forgotten; while he was looking for it,
Deborah's comment fell on his ear, and
probably gave a new direction to his
thoughts, for during the ride Caroline
rallied him on his extraordinary pensiveness;
and finally perceiving that his
gravity resisted all her efforts to dissipate
it, she proposed that if he had not lost
the use of his limbs as well as of his
tongue, he should alight from the carriage
with her and walk to a cottage, to
which they perceived a direct path
through a field, while the carriage approached
by the high road which ran
along the lake shore and was circuitous.
Westall assented rather with politeness
than eagerness; but when he was alone
with Caroline, when she roused all her
powers to charm him, he yielded to the
influence of her beauty and her vivacity.
Never had she appeared so engaging—
never so beautiful—the afternoon was
delicious—their path ran along the skirts
of an enchanting wood—its soft shadows
fell over them, the birds poured forth
their melody; and, in short, all nature
conspired to stimulate the lover's imagination
and to quicken his sensibility.
Charles forgot the sage resolutions he
had made to withhold his declaration till
he had satisfied certain doubts that had
sometimes obtruded on him, that all in
Caroline was not as fair and lovely as it
seemed; he forgot Miss Deborah's hint
—forgot every thing but the power and
the presence of his beautiful companion,
and only hesitated for language to express
what his eyes had already told her.
At this moment both his and Miss Redwood's
attention was withdrawn from
themselves to a little girl who appeared
at the door of the cottage, from which
they were now not many yards distant.
On perceiving them she bounded over
the door step, then stopped, put up her
hand to shade her eyes from the sun,
and gazed fixedly on them for a moment,
then again sprang forward, again stopped,
covered her eyes with both her
hands, threw herself at full length on the
grass, laid her ear to the ground and
seemed for a moment to listen intently;
she then rose, put her apron to her eyes
and appeared to be weeping, while she
retraced her way languidly to the cottage.
Caroline and Westall, moved by
the same impulse, quickened their pace,
and in a few moments reached the cottage
door, to which a woman had been
attracted by the sobs of the child, and
was expostulating with her in an earnest
tone. “God help us, Peggy, you'll just
ruin all if you go on in this way;” she
paused on perceiving that the child had
attracted the attention of the strangers;
and in reply to Westall's asking what
ailed the little girl, she said, “it's just
her simplicity, Sir; but if you and the
lady will condescend to walk into my
poor place here, I will tell you all about
it, or Peggy shall tell it herself, for when
she gets upon it her tongue runs faster
than mine: but bless me, here comes a
grand coach—look up, Peggy, you never
saw a real coach in your life.” Peggy
now let fall the apron with which she
had covered her face—a face if not
beautiful, full of feeling and intelligence.
She seemed instantly to forget her affliction,
whatever it was, in the pleasure of
gazing on the spectacle of the real coach.
“Ah, aunt Betty,” she exclaimed, “it
is the grand sick gentleman that is staying
at Mr. Lenox's.” The carriage drew
up to the door, and Mrs. Westall and
Mr. Redwood, attracted by the uncommonly
neat appearance of the cottage,
alighted and followed Caroline and
Charles, who had already entered it.
The good woman, middle-aged and of a
cheerful countenance, was delighted with
the honour conferred on her, bustled
around to furnish seats for her guests—
shook up the cushion of a rocking chair
for Mr. Redwood, and made a thousand
apologies for the confusion and dirt of
her house, which had the usual if not the
intended effect of calling forth abundance
of compliments on its perfect order
and neatness. “And now, Peggy,” she
said, as soon as they were all quietly
seated, “take the pitcher and bring some
cold water from the spring, that's what
the poor have, thank God, as good as
the rich, and it is all we have to offer.”
The little girl obeyed, and as soon as she
was out of hearing, the woman turned to
Westall. “It was your wish, Sir, to
know what ailed the child; the poor
thing has just got the use of her eyesight,
and she has been expecting some
one that she loves better than all the
world; and when she saw this young
lady with you, she thought it was her
friend—though to be sure she is shorter
than this lady; but then Peggy, poor
thing, does not see quite right yet, and
then when she is puzzled she just lies
down to the ground as you saw her, for
that was her way to listen, and she knows
Miss Ellen's step, for as light as it is,
when my poor ear can't hear a sound.” | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 26 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Add | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | 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 a fine afternoon in the month
of August when our travellers passed
the romantic road which traverses the
mountain that forms the eastern boundary
of the valley of Hancock. The
varied pleasures they had enjoyed during
the day, and the excitement of drawing
near to the object of their long journey,
animated them both with unusual spirits.
Deborah's tongue was voluble in praise
of the rich farms that spread out on the
declivities of the hills, or embosomed in
the protected vallies, called forth, as
they deserved, the enthusiastic commendations
of our experienced rustic. Ellen
listened in silence while she gazed with
the eye of an amateur upon this beautiful
country, which possesses all the elements
of the picturesque. Green hills
crowned with flourishing villages—village
spires rising just where they should
rise; for the scene is nature's temple, and
the altar should be there—lakes sparkling
like gems in the distant vallies—Saddle
mountain lifting his broad shoulders to
the northern sky, and the Catskills defining
with their blue and misty outline
the western horizon. “I guess you will be surprised to see
my pot-hooks and trammels, and puzzled
enough you will be to read them;
but I could not let so good an opportunity
pass without letting you know that
the Lord has spared our lives to this date,
and that all your friends at Eton are
well, except the minister, who enjoys
a poor state of health. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 27 | Author: | Bird
Robert Montgomery
1806-1854 | Add | | | 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: | America is especially the land of change. From
the moment of discovery, its history has been a
record of convulsions, such as necessarily attend
a transition from barbarism to civilization; and to
the end of time, it will witness those revolutions in
society, which arise in a community unshackled
by the restraints of prerogative. As no law of
primogeniture can ever entail the distinctions meritoriously
won, or the wealth painfully amassed, by
a single individual, upon a line of descendants, the
mutations in the condition of families will be perpetual.
The Dives of to-day will be the Diogenes
of to-morrow; and the `man of the tub' will often
live to see his children change place with those of
the palace-builder. As it has been, so will it be,—
“Now up, now doun, as boket in a well;”
and the honoured and admired of one generation
will be forgotten among the moth-lived luminaries
of the next. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 30 | Author: | Brainard
John G. C.
(John Gardiner Calkins)
1796-1828 | Add | | | Title: | Letters Found in the Ruins of Fort Braddock, Including an Interesting American Tale | | | | 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 is now spring—the buds are bursting
through all the wilderness about me; but the cold
rains which are constantly descending, make my
condition so cheerless, that I write to you merely
to pass the time. Why I was doomed to spend my
winter here so solitary, or when I shall have the
good luck to shift my quarters, for any other spot,
is past my skill to divine. Any other spot—the
Arkansas, the Rio Colorada, the Council Bluffs,
the Yellow Stone, any place but this. Was I dangerous
to government, that they should have contrived
for one poor subaltern, this Siberian banishment,
where I am ingeniously confined, not by
a guard placed over me, but by having the command
of about five and twenty men, that the spring
discovers in a uniform of rags. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 31 | Author: | Briggs
Charles F.
(Charles Frederick)
1804-1877 | Add | | | Title: | The Adventures of Harry Franco | | | | 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 is a generally received opinion in some parts
of the world, that a man must of necessity have
had ancestors; but, in our truly independent
country, we contrive to get along very well without
them. That strange race, called Aristocrats,
it is said, consider every body as nobody, unless
they can boast of at least a dozen ancestors. These
lofty people would have scorned an alliance with
a parvenu like Adam, of course. What a fortunate
circumstance for their high mightinesses, that
they were not born in the early ages. No antediluvian
family would have been entitled to the
slightest consideration from them. When the
world was only two thousand years old, it is
melancholy to reflect, its surface was covered with
nobodies; men of yesterday, without an ancestry
worth speaking of. It is not to be wondered at,
that such a set of upstarts should have caused the
flood; nothing less would have washed away their
vulgarity, to say nothing of their sins. Augustus de Satinett was a jobber; a choicer
spirit the region of Hanover square boasted not.
Pearl street and Maiden Lane may have known
his equal, his superior never. He had risen from
junior clerk to junior partner, in one of the oldest
firms. The best blood of the revolution flowed in
his veins; his mother was a Van Buster, his father
a de Satinett; a more remote ancestry, or a more
noble, it were vain to desire. Augustus had a noble
soul, it was a seven quarter full; his virtues
were all his own, and they were dyed in the wool;
his vices were those of his age—they were dyed
in the cloth. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 32 | Author: | Briggs
Charles F.
(Charles Frederick)
1804-1877 | Add | | | Title: | The Adventures of Harry Franco | | | | 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 a broiling hot day, and as I toiled along
through the dusty streets of Brooklyn towards
the ferry, I almost wished myself back again upon
the blue sea. Dear Sir—This is to inform you as I
have entered in Uncle Sam's service, and have
took three month's advance. I have kept money
enough to have a good drunk, and the rest I send
to you. Keep it and spend it for my sake. I wanted
to of given you more, but that young woman,
blast her—but never say die. So no more at present
till death, and don't forget your old shipmate, Is it true that my dear boy is alive and
well! O, Harry, I have read your letter over and
over; and your poor sister has read it, and cried
over it, and prayed over it. I put it under my
pillow when I lay down at night, that I may be
able to press it to my lips when I wake in the
morning. Your father tells me it is weak in me
to do so, but it is a weakness caused by the
strength of my love for you. O, Harry, my dear
boy, I have had such dreams about you! but
they were only dreams, and I will not distress you
by relating them. Let us give thanks to our
heavenly Father for all his mercies. When we
received your letter, it was my wish to return
thanks publicly through Doctor Slospoken; but
your father would not give his consent. What
the neighbors all thought, I cannot say. But my
dear Harry, why did you not come home? to
your own home? Do not think, my dear child,
that you will be more welcome to your home and
your mother's heart, if you bring the wealth of
the Indies with you. If you be covered with
jewels your mother will not see them, and if you
be clothed in rags, she will only see her child. Your letter has made us all happy; how
happy I cannot express; for we had mourned for
you as one that was dead. I cannot, in a letter,
relate to you all that has been said and done since
we heard from you; but may be assured we
have been almost beside ourselves with joy, and
all our talk has been, Harry, Harry, Harry. “My conscience upbraids me with having
broken the golden rule, in my intercourse with
you, and I cannot allow you to leave me, under a
false impression of my feelings. I am afraid I
have not been sufficiently plain, when you have
spoken to me on the subject, in giving you to understand
that my mind is unalterably fixed, never
to unite myself to one, whose heart has not been
bowed under the conscious burden of his sins;
for my promise has been passed, mentally only,
I own, but I cannot break it. It is registered
above. Had I known you before the vow was
made, perhaps it never would have been; but it
is, and I am bound by it. Our hands, dear Harry,
may never be united, but our hearts may be.
I cannot dissimulate, I do love you; how well I
love you, let this confession witness. If it be sinful
in me, I trust that He, in whom is all my trust,
will pardon me, and deliver me from my bondage.
And my constant prayer to Him is, that he will
bring you to the foot of that Cross, where alone I
can meet you. “Immediately on the receipt of this, you
will destroy all the blank acceptances of Marisett
and Co., which may remain in your hands.
Make no farther contracts of any description,
for account of our house, but hold yourself in
readiness to return to New York. “Since our last, of the 28th ult., we have
come to the determination of stopping payment.
It may be necessary for us to make an assignment;
if so, we will advise you farther, and remain, “We are without any of your valued favors
since we acknowledged yours of the 14th.
You have already been informed of the stoppage
of our house; and I have now to inform you, that
in consequence of our Mr. Garvey having used
the name of the firm to a very great extent, in
his private land operations, our liabilities are
found greatly to exceed our assets. Our senior
partner, I am concerned to add, is completely
prostrated by this event, and unable to afford me
the aid which I require in adjusting the affairs of
the concern. All the circumstances considered, I
think it will be advisable for you to return to
New York as soon as you can bring matters to a
close at New Orleans. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 33 | Author: | Child
Lydia Maria Francis
1802-1880 | Add | | | Title: | Hobomok | | | | 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 NEVER view the thriving villages of New England,
which speak so forcibly to the heart, of happiness
and prosperity, without feeling a glow of national
pride, as I say, “this is my own, my native
land.” A long train of associations are connected
with her picturesque rivers, as they repose in their
peaceful loveliness, the broad and sparkling mirror of
the heavens,—and with the cultivated environs of her
busy cities, which seem every where blushing into a
perfect Eden of fruit and flowers. The remembrance
of what we have been, comes rushing on the heart in
powerful and happy contrast. In most nations the
path of antiquity is shrouded in darkness, rendered
more visible by the wild, fantastic light of fable;
but with us, the vista of time is luminous to its remotest
point. Each succeeding year has left its footsteps
distinct upon the soil, and the cold dew of our chilling
dawn is still visible beneath the mid-day sun. Two
centuries only have elapsed, since our most beautiful
villages reposed in the undisturbed grandeur of nature;—when
the scenes now rendered classic by literary
associations, or resounding with the din of commerce,
echoed nought but the song of the hunter, or
the fleet tread of the wild deer. God was here in his
holy temple, and the whole earth kept silence before
him! But the voice of prayer was soon to be heard in
the desert. The sun, which for ages beyond the memory
of man had gazed on the strange, fearful worship
of the Great Spirit of the wilderness, was soon to
shed its splendor upon the altars of the living God.
That light, which had arisen amid the darkness of
Europe, stretched its long, luminous track across the
Atlantic, till the summits of the western world became
tinged with its brightness. During many long,
long ages of gloom and corruption, it seemed as if the
pure flame of religion was every where quenched in
blood;—but the watchful vestal had kept the sacred
flame still burning deeply and fervently. Men, stern
and unyielding, brought it hither in their own bosom,
and amid desolation and poverty they kindled it on the
shrine of Jevovah. In this enlightened and liberal
age, it is perhaps too fashionable to look back upon
those early sufferers in the cause of the Reformation,
as a band of dark, discontented bigots. Without
doubt, there were many broad, deep shadows in their
characters, but there was likewise bold and powerful
light. The peculiarities of their situation occasioned
most of their faults, and atoned for them. They were
struck off from a learned, opulent, and powerful nation,
under circumstances which goaded and lacerated
them almost to ferocity;—and it is no wonder that
men who fled from oppression in their own country, to
all the hardships of a remote and dreary province,
should have exhibited a deep mixture of exclusive,
bitter, and morose passions. To us indeed, most of
the points for which they so strenuously contended,
must appear exceedingly absurd and trifling; and we
cannot forbear a smile that vigorous and cultivated
minds should have looked upon the signing of the
cross with so much horror and detestation. But the
heart pays involuntary tribute to conscientious, persevering
fortitude, in what cause soever it may be displayed.
At this impartial period we view the sound
policy and unwearied zeal with which the Jesuits endeavored
to rebuild their decaying church, with almost
as much admiration as we do the noble spirit of
reaction which it produced. Whatever merit may be
attached to the cause of our forefathers, the mighty
effort which they made for its support is truly wonderful;
and whatever might have been their defects,
they certainly possessed excellencies, which peculiarly
fitted them for a van-guard in the proud and rapid
march of freedom. The bold outlines of their character
alone remain to us. The varying tints of domestic
detail are already concealed by the ivy which
clusters around the tablets of our recent history.
Some of these have lately been unfolded in an old,
worn-out manuscript, which accidentally came in my
way. It was written by one of my ancestors who fled
with the persecuted nonconformists from the Isle of
Wight, and about the middle of June, 1629, arrived at
Naumkeak on the eastern shore of Massachusetts.
Every one acquainted with our early history remembers
the wretched state in which they found the
scanty remnant of their brethren at that place. I
shall, therefore, pass over the young man's dreary account
of sickness and distress, and shall likewise take
the liberty of substituting my own expressions for his
antiquated and almost unintelligible style. “This comes to reminde you of one you sometime
knew at Plimouth. One to whome the remembrance
of your comely face and gratious behaviour, hath
proved a very sweete savour. Many times I have
thought to write to you, and straightnesse of time only
hath prevented. There is much to doe at this seasone,
and wee have reason to rejoyce, though with fier
and trembling, that we have wherewithal to worke. “Wheras Mr. Collier hathe beene supposed to
blame concerning some businesse he hath of late endeavoured
to transacte for Mr. Hopkins, this cometh
to certifie that he did faithfully performe his dutie,
and moreover that his great modestie did prevente his
understanding many hints, until I spoke even as he
hath represented. Wherefore, if there be oughte unseemly
in this, it lieth on my shoulders. “I againe take up my penn to write upon the same
paper you gave me when I left you, and tolde me
thereupon to write my thoughts in the deserte. Alas,
what few I have, are sad ones. I remember you once
saide that Shakspeare would have beene the same
greate poet if he had been nurtured in a Puritan wildernesse.
But indeed it is harde for incense to rise
in a colde, heavy atmosphere, or for the buds of fancie
to put forth, where the heartes of men are as harde
and sterile as their unploughed soile. You will wonder
to hear me complain, who have heretofore beene
so proud of my cheerfulnesse. Alas, howe often is
pride the cause of things whereunto we give a better
name. Perhaps I have trusted too muche to my owne
strengthe in this matter, and Heaven is nowe pleased
to send a more bitter dispensation, wherewithal to
convince me of my weakness. I woulde tell you
more, venerable parente, but Mr. Brown will conveye
this to your hande, and he will saye much, that I cannot
finde hearte or roome for. The settlement of this
Western Worlde seemeth to goe on fast now that soe
many men of greate wisdome and antient blood are
employed therein. They saye much concerning our
holie church being the Babylone of olde, and that
vials of fierce wrath are readie to be poured out upon
her. If the prophecies of these mistaken men are to
be fulfilled, God grante I be not on earthe to witnesse
it. My dear mother is wasting awaye, though I hope
she will long live to comforte me. She hath often
spoken of you lately. A fewe dayes agone, she said
she shoulde die happier if her grey-haired father
coulde shed a tear upon her grave. I well know that
when that daye does come, we shall both shed many
bitter tears. I must leave some space in this paper
for her feeble hande to fill. The Lord have you in
His holie keeping till your dutifull grandchilde is
againe blessed with the sighte of your countenance. “I knowe nott wherewithal to address you, for my
hearte is full, and my hande trembleth with weaknesse.
My kinde Mary is mistaken in thinking I shall
long sojourne upon Earthe. I see the grave opening
before me, but I feel that I cannot descend thereunto
till I have humbly on my knees asked the forgiveness
of my offended father. He who hath made man's
hearte to suffer, alone knoweth the wretchedness of
mine when I have thought of your solitary old age.
Pardon, I beseech you, my youthfull follie and disobedience,
and doe not take offence if I write that the
husbande for whose sake I have suffered much, hath
been through life a kinde and tender helpe-meete; for
I knowe it will comforte you to think upon this, when
I am dead and gone. I would saye much more, but
though my soule is strong in affection for you, my
body is weake. God Almighty bless you, is the
prayer of “Manie thoughts crowde into my hearte, when I
take upp my pen to write to you. Straightwaye my
deare wife, long in her grave, cometh before me, and
bringeth the remembrance of your owne babie face,
as you sometime lay suckling in her arms. The
bloode of anciente men floweth slow, and the edge of
feeling groweth blunte: but heavie thoughts will rise
on the surface of the colde streame, and memorie will
probe the wounded hearte with her sharpe lancett.
There hath been much wronge betweene us, my deare
childe, and I feel that I trode too harshlie on your
young hearte: but it maye nott be mended. I have
had many kinde thoughts of you, though I have locked
them up with the keye of pride. The visit of Mr.
Brown was very grievious unto me, inasmuch as he
tolde me more certainly than I had known before.
that you were going downe to the grave. Well, my
childe, `it is a bourne from whence no traveller returns.'
My hande trembleth while I write this, and I
feel that I too am hastening thither. Maye we meete
in eternitie. The tears dropp on the paper when I
think we shall meete no more in time. Give my fervente
love to Mary. She is too sweete a blossom to
bloome in the deserte. Mr. Brown tolde me much
that grieved me to hear. He is a man of porte and
parts, and peradventure she maye see the time when
her dutie and inclination will meete together. The
greye hairs of her olde Grandefather maye be laide
in the duste before that time; but she will finde he
hath nott forgotten her sweete countenance and gratious
behaviour. I am gladd you have founde a kinde
helpe-meete in Mr. Conant. May God prosper him
according as he hath dealte affectionately with my
childe. Forgive your olde father as freelie as he forgiveth
you. And nowe, God in his mercie bless you,
dere childe of my youthe. Farewell. “This doth certifie that the witche hazel sticks,
which were givene to the witnesses of my marriage
are all burnte by my requeste: therefore by Indian
laws, Hobomok and Mary Conant are divorced. And
this I doe, that Mary may be happie. The same will
be testified by my kinsmen Powexis, Mawhalissis, and
Mackawalaw. The deere and foxes are for my goode
Mary, and my boy. Maye the Englishmen's God
bless them all. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 35 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | Title: | Precaution | | | | 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 affections of Jane had sustained
a heavy blow, her pride had received
a greater, and no persuasions of her mother
or sister, could induce her to leave her room;
she talked but little, but once or twice she
yielded to the affectionate attentions of Emily,
and poured out her sorrows into the bosom
of her sister; at such moments, she
would declare her intention of never appearing
in the world again. One of these paroxysms
of sorrow was witnessed by her mother,
and, for the first time, self-reproach mingled
in the grief of the matron; had she
trusted less to appearances, and the opinions
of indifferent and ill-judging acquaintances,
her daughter might have been apprised in
season, of the character of the man who had
stolen her affections. To the direct exhibition
of misery, Lady Moseley was always
sympathetic, and for the moment, alive to its
causes and consequences; but a timely and
judicious safeguard against future moral evils,
was a forecast neither her inactivity of mind
or abilities were equal to. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 36 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | 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: | The officer to whose keeping Dunwoodie had
committed the pedlar, transferred his charge to
the custody of the regular sergeant of the guard.
The gift of Captain Wharton had not been lost on
the youthful lieutenant, and a certain dancing motion
that had unaccountably taken possession of
objects before his eyes, gave him warning of the
necessity of recruiting nature by sleep. After
admonishing the non-commissioned guardian of
Harvey to omit no watchfulness in securing the
prisoner, the youth wrapped himself in his cloak,
and, stretched on a bench before a fire, sought,
and soon found, the repose he needed. A rude
shed extended the whole length of the rear of the
building, and from off one of its ends had been
partitioned a small apartment, that was intended
as a repository for many of the lesser implements
of husbandry. The lawless times had, however,
occasoned its being stript of every thing of any
value, and the searching eyes of Betty Flannagan
selected this spot, on her arrival, as the store house
for her moveables, and a withdrawing-room for
her person. The spare arms and baggage of the
corps had also been deposited here; and the united
treasures were placed under the eye of the
sentinel who paraded the shed as guardian to the
rear of the head quarters. A second warrior,
who was stationed near the house to protect the
horses of the officers, could command a view of
the outside of the apartment, and as it was without
window, or outlet of any kind excepting its
door, the considerate sergeant thought this the
most befitting place in which to deposite his charge,
until the moment of his execution. There were
several inducements that urged Sergeant Hollister
to this determination, among which was the absence
of the washerwoman, who lay before the
kitchen fire, dreaming that the corps were attacking
a party of the enemy, and mistaking the noise
which proceeded from her own nose for the bugles
of the Virginians sounding the charge. Another
was the peculiar opinions that the veteran
entertained of life and death, and by which he
was distinguished in the corps as a man of most
exemplary piety and holiness of life. The sergeant
was more than fifty years of age, and for
half that period had borne arms as a profession.
The constant recurrence of sudden deaths before
his eyes had produced an effect on him differing
greatly from that, which was the usual moral consequence
of such scenes, and he had become not
only the most steady, but the most trust-worthy
soldier in his troop.—Captain Lawton had rewarded
his fidelity by making him its orderly. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 37 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | Title: | The Pilot | | | | 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: | Each year causes some new and
melancholy chasm in what is now the brief
list of my naval friends and former associates.
War, disease, and the casualties
of a hazardous profession, have made fearful
inroads in the limited number; while
the places of the dead are supplied by
names that to me are strangers. With the
consequences of these sad changes before
me, I cherish the recollection of those with
whom I once lived in close familiarity with
peculiar interest, and feel a triumph in
their growing reputations, that is but little
short of their own honest pride. A single glance at the map will make the reader
acquainted with the position of the eastern coast
of the island of Great Britain, as connected
with the shores of the opposite continent. Together
they form the boundaries of the small
sea, that has for ages been known to the world
as the scene of maritime exploits, and as the
great avenue through which commerce and war
have conducted the fleets of the northern nations
of Europe. Over this sea the islanders long
asserted a jurisdiction, exceeding that which reason
concedes to any power on the highway of nations,
and which frequently led to conflicts that
caused an expenditure of blood and treasure, utterly
disproportioned to the advantages that can
ever arise from the maintenance of a useless and
abstract right. It is across the waters of this disputed
ocean that we shall attempt to conduct our
readers, in imagination, selecting a period for our
incidents that has peculiar interests for every
American, not only because it was the birth-day
of his nation, but because it was also the era when
reason and common sense began to take place of
custom and feudal practices in the management of
the affairs of nations. “Believing that Providence may conduct me
where we shall meet, or whence I may be able to
transmit to you this account, I have prepared a
short statement of the situation of Cecilia Howard
and myself; not, however, to urge you and
Griffith to any rash or foolish hazards, but that
you may both sit down, and, after due consultation,
determine on what is proper for our relief. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 38 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | Title: | The Pilot | | | | 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: | As Griffith and his compantions rushed from
the offices of St. Ruth, into the open air, they
encountered no one to intercept their flight, or
communicate the alarm. Warned by the experience
of the earlier part of the same night, they
avoided the points where they knew the sentinels
were posted, though fully prepared to bear down
all resistance, and were soon beyond the probability
of immediate detection. They proceded,
for the distance of half a mile, with rapid strides,
and with the stern and sullen silence of men who
expected to encounter immediate danger, resolved
to breast it with desperate resolution; but, as
they plunged into a copse, that clustered around
the ruin which has already been mentioned, they
lessened their exertions to a more deliberate pace;
and a short but guarded dialogue ensued. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 39 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | Title: | The Pioneers, or the Sources of the Susquehanna | | | | 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: | Near the centre of the great State of New-York
lies an extensive district of country, whose
surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to
speak with greater deference to geographical definitions,
of mountains and valleys. It is among
these hills that the Delaware takes its rise; and
flowing from the limpid lakes and thousand springs
of this country, the numerous sources of the
mighty Susquehanna meander through the valleys,
until, uniting, they form one of the proudest
streams of which the old United States could boast.
The mountains are generally arable to the top,
although instances are not wanting, where their
sides are jutted with rocks, that aid greatly in
giving that romantic character to the country,
which it so eminently possesses. The vales are
narrow, rich, and cultivated; with a stream uniformly
winding through each, now gliding peacefully
under the brow of one of the hills, and then
suddenly shooting across the plain, to wash the
feet of its opposite rival. Beautiful and thriving
villages are found interspersed along the margins
of the small lakes, or situated at those points of the
streams which are favourable to manufacturing;
and neat and comfortable farms, with every indication
of wealth about them, are scattered profusely
through the vales, and even to the mountain tops.
Roads diverge in every direction, from the even
and graceful bottoms of the valleys, to the most
rugged and intricate passes of the hills Academies,
and minor edifices for the encouragement
of learning, meet the eye of the stranger, at every
few miles, as he winds his way through this uneven
territory; and places for the public worship of
God abound with that frequency which characterizes
a moral and reflecting people, and with that
variety of exterior and canonical government
which flows from unfettered liberty of conscience.
In short, the whole district is hourly exhibiting
how much can be done, in even a rugged country,
and with a severe climate, under the dominion
of mild laws, and where every man feels a direct
interest in the prosperity of a commonwealth, of
which he knows himself to form a distinct and independent
part. The expedients of the pioneers
who first broke ground in the settlement of this
country, are succeeded by the permanent improvements
of the yeoman, who intends to leave
his remains to moulder under the sod which he
tills, or, perhaps, of the son, who, born in the land,
piously wishes to linger around the grave of his
father. Only forty years have passed since this
whole territory was a wilderness. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 40 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Add | | | Title: | The Pioneers, or the Sources of the Susquehanna | | | | 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: | As the spring gradually approached, the immense
piles of snow, that, by alternate thaws and
frosts, and repeated storms, had obtained a firmness
that threatened a tiresome durability, begun
to yield to the influence of milder breezes and
a warmer sun. The gates of Heaven, at times,
seemed to open, and a bland air diffused itself over
the earth, when animate and inanimate nature would
awaken, and, for a few hours, the gayety of spring
shone in every eye, and smiled on every field.
But the shivering blasts from the north would carry
their chill influence over the scene again, and
the dark and gloomy clouds that intercepted the
rays of the sun, were not more cold and dreary,
than the re-action which crossed the creation.
These struggles between the seasons became,
daily, more frequent, while the earth, like a victim
to contention, slowly lost the animated brilliancy
of winter, without obtaining the decided aspect of
spring. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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