| | 241 | Author: | Rowson
Mrs.
1762-1824 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Charlotte's daughter  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “What are you doing there Lucy?” said Mrs.
Cavendish to a lovely girl, about fifteen years old.
She was kneeling at the feet of an old man sitting
just within the door of a small thatched cottage situated
about five miles from Southampton on the coast
of Hampshire. “What are you doing there child?”
said she, in rather a sharp tone, repeating her question. I am sensible you will blame the step
I am about to take, but I cannot be happy unless as
the wife of Sir Stephen Haynes. Before you will
receive this, I shall be considerably advanced on the
road to Scotland, not that, being my own mistress,
any one has a right to control me, but I dreaded expostulation,
shuddered at the idea of published banns,
or a formal wedding by license, with settlements,
lawyers, and parchments. These things have, I believe,
little to do with love.—” You cannot be surprised, Theresa, after
the explanation which took place between Lady
Mary and myself yesterday, that I should declare
my utter inability to make those settlements which
I talked of before our excursion to the north. I
must beg you to make my acknowledgments to the
dear generous girl for all marks of favour and kindness
bestowed by her on her unworthy, humble
servant, but my finances are in such a state, that
it is totally impossible for me to take a journey to
Wilts, as proposed, or to solicit her company to
France, whither I must repair as speedily as possible,
to rusticate; whilst my affairs in England are put in
train to restore me to some comparative degree of
affluence. My friend, Richard Craftly, Esq. has offered
the cottage to you and your lovely friend as long
as you may please to occupy it. He is, Miss Brenton,
a man of good abilities, amiable disposition, and
possessed of a small but genteel and unincumbered
estate, which upon the death of his mother will be
augmented. He will call on you this afternoon, I
recommend him to your notice. My best wishes
attend you and your fair associate Lady Mary. “From the hour when I closed the eyes of your
beloved, ill fated mother, you, my dear Lucy, have
been the delight and solace of your grandmother and
myself. And your amiable disposition has led us to
hope, that you may in future be the happy inheritress
of the estate and property on which we have lived
above thirty-five years: happy, my child, in bestowing
11*
comfort on others, and doubly happy in the
enjoyment of reflected joy from grateful hearts. “I have sat down, my dear sir, to fulfil
a most unpleasant task in communicating to you by
the desire of our lovely and esteemed friend, Miss
Blakeney, a copy of her grandfather's letter, which
I inclose, thinking it best to keep the original in my
possession. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 242 | Author: | Royall
Anne Newport
1769-1854 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Tennessean | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | 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 ancestors came from England. They were part
of the persecuted dissenters, who sought an asylum in
the wilds of America—of those enterprising few, who
landed at Plymouth, in sixteen hundred and twenty. Dear Friend—You complain, in your last, of the violent
proceedings of your town on the old subject; but it
is trifling, compared to the zeal of our minister.—
Though my health is little improved, since I wrote you
last, yet I went to hear Mr. Williams, last Sabbath. I
was shocked at the discourse; but, dear Thomas, it
would cost me my life, if this were known. He raged,
he stamped, he foamed at the mouth, and all this for a
mere phantom—a shadow. Strange, that our teachers
should set such examples of wrath. I am sure, Christ
enjoins it upon us, to be meek and lowly. But I will try
to give you a plain account of some of the sermon. He
said that “the cross of St. George, in the English colours,
was a downright popish relict; that it was Idolatry,
and popish whoredom, to retain this ensign of hellish
superstition.” But his language would be too tiresome
to you, and withal, not edifying. So much did his
discourse affect the congregation, that they held a meeting,
that same evening, and passed a decree, that it
should be publicly cut out of the colours, and should never
be seen amongst God's people.” I am very doubtful
that this is not the right way—moreover, our minister
and another one, by the name of Roberts, had some
very uncivil talk that same evening. This cannot be
the right way—we have lost it, somehow. We are, in
truth, without teachers; for I would put no more faith
in this madman, Williams, than I would in Satan. It
puts me in mind of a saying of Luther's friend, Mclancthon,
of Wittemberg. He said “that he longed to
be dissolved, and that for two reasons—first, that he
might enjoy the much desired presence of Christ, and
the heavenly church—secondly, that he might be freed
from the cruel and implacable discords of divines.”—
But I shall not, I trust, be long in this turbulent world.
I am heart-sick of it. What a monster is man! Better
had we remained in England:—I could laugh, there;
here I dare not smile. Adieu, dear friend, &c. &c. Dear Charles—So soon as thee receives this letter,
thee will proceed home without delay.—I am ruined!—
All my effects were seized yesterday, to satisfy Clark
& Co. of Liverpool, vs. Burlington & Co. I do not understand
this; I am bewildered; something is wrong
in this business. I did not know that I owed that
house aught, except part of the last importation;
but I know nothing, nor can I do any thing. Haste thee
home with all speed. I am very much indisposed—thy
mother is distracted; we need thy presence and assistance.
The family send their greeting to thy young
friend. Very Dear Friend—Your situation is one that admits
of little relief—nothing but time can heal the wounds of
the heart. But permit me to mingle my tears with
yours—permit me to say that I feel for your sufferings,
and that on a double account; but this is too tender a
subject, and yet I cannot forbear. Dear Charles, forgive
me, for in your breast alone I would repose the secret
of my heart; but I dare not name it—cannot you
guess, oh, dearest Charles? Write to me, quickly, and
let me know. But I am raving—I sat down to console
you, whilst I need consolation myself. I shall see you,
at the end of the term, at all hazards—in the mean time,
2*
let me know whether I may dare to hope—you understand
me. Say to your sister, that her sorrows are
mine. You say she weeps incessantly.—Oh, God! tell
her it wounds me to the heart—never again write to me
thus. Dear Charles, you have pierced my soul. Say
something to relieve me.—Accept the trifle I send you,
until you can make it convenient to return it. Do not let
this mark of my eternal regard for you, wound your
delicacy—you know my heart—you know if I were in
your situation, and you in mine, that I would be proud
to give you this proof of our friendship. Know, from
henceforth, that what is mine is yours. Your very distressed
friend, Sir—Agreeable to your request I waited on Mr.
Hunter and demanded a settlement: he said he was ready,
and forthwith we proceeded to the place where his
books were kept. Upon examining the accounts between
him and your father I am sorry to inform you that he
brings your father in debt. Upon presenting the account
you sent me, he denied the whole; and made use of language
that is useless to repeat to you. I do think myself
that your account is just; but you can get nothing
of Hunter. The property you spoke of was sold a few
days since for the benefit of “Clark & Co.:” therefore
Hunter is insolvent. It is thought, pretty generally,
that the goods were purchased by his friends and with
his own money. You ask of Hunters reputation—he
has hitherto been esteemed an honest man and a fair
dealer; but since your affair, he has fallen very much in
the esteem of the public. It is hinted here that he laid
this plan of treachery when last in Liverpool; the agent
for that house says he failed for the sum for which the
seizure was made. I am very sorry for your situation,
and have no comfort for you but the very poor ones of
patience and resignation. Should you have any farther
commands in this city I will attend to them with pleasure.—Yours,
respectfully, &c. “Dear Henry.—You will receive this by Captain T.,
who has undertaken to visit you and learn your true situation.
Your captivity has afflicted us with the deepest
sorrow; your mother is unconsolable and refuses to be
comforted. Our Government is negociating your ransom,
which is attended with much difficulty; but I expect
it will soon be brought about: if them Spanish dogs
don't cut your throat or something worse, you will receive
one thousand dollars. If that will set you at liberty
I shall think it well laid out. I am in too much
trouble to say more. “You will recollect, said she, that my father promised
to see the Vice Roy and ask his permission for your
friend to deliver the letter; he promised you he would
go that evening and accordingly he went, but was unable
to get an audiance that evening. After his return he
came into my parlour, as he always does when he concludes
the business of the day. Whilst he was talking
in a careless manner, and growing sleepy he yawned and
observed, “Your friend is still here, he has been with me often.
He is disguised in the habit of an Indian, and has two
fleet horses ready, and now the nights being dark, you
may expect him. Heaven grant you may get safe to
your country, where you will sometimes deign to think
of I received your kind letter of November last, in
which you congratulated me on my happy asylum—alas,
my dear brother! this proves how little you know of the
world—much better, had it pleased Divine Providence,
that I had followed my parents to the grave! Much better
for me, had I been destitute of those advantages, to
which alone, perhaps, I owe my present distress. But
I will try and compose myself, if it be possible, for the
purpose of acquainting you with the principal incidents
which have happened to me of late. What has become of you? Have you forgot your
Mary? Are you alive? Oh, for heaven's sake send me
but one line, but one word—I ask no more. But it is in
vain—you cannot be living—what has become of Wilson?
has he too forgot me? Alas then, I have no friend!
ye cannot both be dead!—but I will cease to complain—
Oh that God would take me to himself! There was but
two—but no matter—and yet I cannot think that if living,
you would forget me. My last letter you never answered—I
heeded that not, as I expected to see yourself.
I looked not for a letter, but I looked in vain for either.
This is the last I shall trouble you with; I shall ask no
more for help, where no help is to be found. I received your favour this day: I am truly glad to
hear that you have returned, and that Mary is at length
happy. I have never heard of Dupon since Mrs. Cary
left here—old Mr. Simpson is dead. His oldest daughter,
Clarissa, ran away with Hunter, it is supposed, as
she was missing the night he escaped from prison, and
has never been heard of since. I hasten to reply to both yours of this instant. Hunter
owns the property mentioned in your letter. You
refer to me for information respecting its value: this I
would wish to decline.—In the first place I am not a
judge; and in the second place the price of property is
so fluctuating that it is not easy to say. It might sell to
day six per cent higher than it would to-morrow. “Dear Sir.—Agreeably to my promise, I communicate
the following particulars relative to Miss Simpson. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 243 | Author: | Sargent
Epes
1813-1880 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | What's to be done? | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | 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 dark and chilly evening in the last
month of the year, a young portrait-painter
named Stanford was sitting alone in the room
where he practised his art. An easel was before
him, and on it was a painting, although so
dim was the light shed by a solitary candle from
an adjoining table, that it was difficult to distinguish
the figures on the canvass. There was
a fireplace in the apartment, but it no longer
emitted a cheerful warmth, for the last spark
upon the hearth-stone had expired, and the air
was growing colder and colder. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 244 | Author: | Sigourney
L. H.
(Lydia Howard)
1791-1865 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Sketch of Connecticut, forty years since | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Not far from where the southern limits of Connecticut
meet the waters of the sea, the town of N— is situated.
As you approach from the west, it exhibits a rural aspect,
of meadows intersected by streams, and houses overshadowed
with trees. Viewed from the eastern acclivity,
it seems like a citadel guarded by parapets of rock, and
embosomed in an ampitheatre of hills, whose summits
mark the horizon with a waving line of dark forest green.
Entering at this avenue, you perceive that its habitations
bear few marks of splendour, but many of them, retiring
behind the shelter of lofty elms, exhibit the appearance
of comfort and respectability. Travelling southward about
two miles, through the principal road, the rural features
of the landscape are lost, in the throng of houses, and
bustle of men. The junction of two considerable streams
here forms a beautiful river, which, receiving the tides of
the sea, rushes with a short course into its bosom. “With the circumstances of my escape you were undoubtedly
made acquainted, at the return of my pursuers.
The bearer will inform you that my reception on board
the gallies, and at this place, has been favourable to our
wishes. I am able confidently to assure you, that the suspicions
excited by Arnold are false as himself. Not one of
our officers is supposed by the British to be otherwise than
inimical to their cause. Only one has fallen, one son of perdition.
To have the pleasure of doing this justice to fidelity,
balances the evils of my situation. I was yesterday compelled
to a most afflicting step, but one indispensable to
the completion of our plan. It was necessary for me to
accept a commission in the traitor's legion, that I might
have uninterrupted access to his house. Thither he usually
returns at midnight, and previously to retiring, walks
a short time in his garden. There I am to seize, and gag
him, and with the assistance of this trusty spy, bear him
to a boat, which will be in readiness. In case of interrogation,
we shall say, that we are carrying an intoxicated
soldier to the guard-house. Some of the pales from the
garden fence are to be previously removed, that our silent
passage to the alley may be facilitated. On the night,
which the bearer is commissioned to appoint, meet me at
Hoboken, with twenty of the Virginia cavalry, those
brothers of my soul, and there, God willing, I will deliver
to your hand, the troubler of Israel. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 245 | Author: | Sigourney
L. H.
(Lydia Howard)
1791-1865 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Sketches | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | I was in the full tide of a laborious and absorbing
profession,—of one which imposes on intellect
an unsparing discipline, but ultimately opens the
avenues to wealth and fame. I pursued it, as one
determined on distinction,—as one convinced that
mind may assume a degree of omnipotence over
matter and circumstance, and popular opinion. Ambition's
promptings were strong within me, nor was
its career unprosperous.—I had no reason to complain
that its promises were deceptive, or its harvest
tardy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 246 | Author: | Sigourney
L. H.
(Lydia Howard)
1791-1865 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Water-drops | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | 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 environs of one of the large towns of New-England,
a pleasant dwelling attracted the eye of the traveller.
It was a kind of Gothic cottage, whose face of
brown stucco, and pointed windows, were adorned with
clustering vines. Its lawn of green turf was smoothly
shaven, while occasional borders, and circles of dark,
weedless mould, gave nutriment to a multitude of flowers. Louisa is worthy of you.—Return. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 247 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The book of my lady | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Were these days of fiction, rather than of fact, and
could the popular sense be persuaded to regard that
period of exciting circumstance in past history, called
the era of romance, in any other light than that of a
pleasant dream about to be forgotten, your charms
might once again bring into exercise, not merely the
lay of the minstrel, but the valour of the knight. Instead
of the goosequill, spear and sword might, with
sufficient reason, be lifted in your service. Alas! however,
for the time—it brings forth no such offering. As
an especial rebuke to such glorious errantries as made
the middle ages the prime period of romantic adventure;
state prisons and penitentiaries frown upon us
from every quarter—instead of the warlike and stirring
blasts of the bugle, calling the watchful warder to the
turret, and arousing the sleeping porter to the approach
of the visiter, the tintinnabulary house-bell presents
itself conveniently at the portals, and the liveried servitor
opens the door at the first friendly summons. Romance
knows none of these comforts, and well may
adventure sigh after a period which left something for
achievement to do, in scaling walls and mounting windows.
Had we, my lady, been born in such a period,
doubt not that I should have done something worthy to
be named along with the daring doings of the time.
Doubt not that lance had been lifted, and bugle wound,
and battle done gallantly, in your behalf and for your
love. As the times are, however, this may not be the
case; and all that chivalry may now proffer to his ladylove,
is some little tribute of romance like this,—its
relic and remembrance—comprised in a tiny volume,
quite unworthy of your genius, but all that I can yield
from mine. Pardon me, then, dear lady, that these
pages—many of which have been already uttered in
your ears—have received a name, which, though not
fairly identified with yourself or yours, must nevertheless,
and necessarily, refer to you for that countenance and
favour, which is more than popular applause to me.
May they not prove altogether unworthy your acceptance,
nor seem to be altogether ungracious in your
sight. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 248 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Guy Rivers | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | 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 upper part of the State of Georgia, extending
into the country of the Cherokee Indians—
a region, at this period, fruitful of dispute—lying
at nearly equal distances between the parallel
waters of the Chatahoochie river, and that branch
of it which bears the name of the Chestatee, from a
now almost forgotten but once formidable tribe—
will be found a long reach of comparatively barren
lands, interspersed with hills, which occasionally
aspire to a more elevated title, and garnished only
here and there with a dull, half-withered shrubbery,
relieved at intervals, though even then but imperfectly,
by small clumps of slender pines that fling
out their few and skeleton branches ruggedly and
abruptly against the sky. The entire face of the
scene, if not absolutely desolate, has, at least, a
dreary and melancholy expression, which can
not fail to elicit, in the bosom of the most indifferent
spectator, a feeling of gravity and even gloom.
The sparse clusters of ragged woods, and thin
undergrowth of shrivelled herbage, gave token of
the generally steril character of that destiny,
which seemed to have taken up its abode immediately
within, while presiding over, the place.
All around, as far as the eye could reach, a continual
recurrence of the same objects and outline
arrested and fatigued the gaze; which finally sickened
of long levels of sand, broken with rude hills
of a dull species of rock, and a low shrubbery from
which all living things had taken their departure.
Though thus barren to the eye, this region was not,
however, utterly deficient in resources; and its possessions
were those of a description not a little
attractive to the great majority of mankind. It
was the immediate outpost—the very threshold of
the gold country, now so famous for the prolific
promise of the precious metal; far exceeding, in
the contemplation of the knowing, the lavish abundance
of Mexico and of Peru, in the days of their
palmiest and most prosperous condition. Nor,
though only the frontier and threshold as it were
to these swollen treasures, was the portion of country
now under our survey, though bleak, steril
and to the eye uninviting, wanting in attractions
of its own; it contained the signs and indications
which denoted the fertile regions, nor was it entirely
deficient in the precious mineral itself. Much gold
had been gathered already, with little labour, and
almost upon its surface; and it was perhaps only
because of the little knowledge then had of its
wealth, and of its close proximity to a more productive
territory, that it had been suffered to remain
unexamined and unexplored. Nature, thus,
we may remark, in a section of the world seemingly
unblessed with her bounty, and all ungarnished
with her fruits and flowers, appeared desirous,
however, of redeeming it from the curse
of barrenness, by storing its bosom with a product,
which, only of use to the world in its conventional
necessities, has become, in accordance
with the self-creating wants of society, a necessity
itself; and however the bloom and beauty of her
summer decorations may refresh the eye of the
enthusiast, it would here seem, that, with an extended
policy, she had created another, and perhaps
a larger class, which, in the attainment of those
spoils which are of less obvious and easy acquisition,
would even set at nought those which have
at all times been the peculiar delight and felicity
of the former. Nothing is entirely barren in her
dominions; and, to some spirits, her very solitude
and sterility seem as inviting and grateful, as to
others may appear her rich landscapes and voluptuous
flowers. “I guess I am pretty safe now from the regulators,
and saving my trouble of mind, well enough,
and nothing to complain about. Your animal goes
as slick as grease, and carried me in no time out
of reach of rifle shot—so you see it's only right
to thank God, and you, lawyer; for if God hadn't
touched you, and you hadn't lent me the nag, I
guess it would have been a sore chance for my
bones, in the hands of them savages and beasts of
prey. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 249 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Guy Rivers | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The night began to wane, and still did Lucy
Munro keep lonely vigil in her chamber. How
could she sleep? Threatened herself with a connexion
so dreadful as to her mind was that proposed
with Guy Rivers—deeply interested as
she now felt herself in the fortunes of the young
stranger, for whose fate and safety, knowing the
unfavourable position in which he stood with the
outlaws, she had every thing to apprehend—it can
cause no wonder when we say sleep grew a stranger
to her eyes, and without retiring to her couch,
though extinguishing her light, she sat musing by
the window of her chamber upon the thousand
conflicting and sad thoughts that were at strife in
her spirit. She had not been long in this position
when the sound of approaching horsemen reached
her ears, and after a brief interval, during which
she could perceive that they had alighted, she heard
the door of the hall gently unclosed, and footsteps,
as if set down with a nice caution, passing through
the passage. A light danced for a moment fitfully
along the chamber, as if borne from the sleeping
apartment of Munro to that adjoining the hall in
which the family were accustomed to pursue their
domestic avocations. Then came an occasional
murmur of speech to her ears, and then silence.
Perplexed with these circumstances, and wondering
at the return of Munro at an hour something
unusual—prompted too by a presentiment of something
wrong, and apprehensive on the score of
Ralph's safety—a curiosity, not surely under these
circumstances discreditable, to know what was
going on, determined her to ascertain something
more of the character of the nocturnal visitation.
She felt assured from the strangeness of the occurrence
that evil was afoot, and solicitous for its prevention,
she was persuaded to the measure solely
with the view to good. Hastily, yet cautiously, but
with trembling hands, undoing the door of her
apartment, she made her way into the long and
dark gallery, with which she was perfectly familiar,
and soon gained the apartment already referred to.
The door fortunately stood nearly closed, and she
was therefore enabled to pass it by and gain the
hall, which immediately adjoined, and lay in perfect
darkness; without herself being seen, she was
enabled, through a crevice in the partition dividing
the two rooms, to survey its inmates, and to hear
distinctly at the same time every thing that was
uttered. As she expected, there were the two conspirators,
Rivers and Munro, earnestly engaged in
discourse; to which, as it concerns materially our
progress, we may well be permitted to lend our
attention. They spoke on a variety of topics entirely
foreign to the understanding of the half-affrighted
and nervously-susceptible, but still resolute
young girl who heard them; and nothing but
her deep anxieties for one, whose own importance
in her eyes at that moment she did not conjecture,
could have sustained her while listening to a dialogue
full of atrocious intention and development,
and larded throughout with a familiar and sometimes
foul phraseology that certainly was not altogether
unseemly in such association. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 250 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The partisan | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Our narrative begins in South Carolina, during the
summer of 1780. The arms of the British were at that
time triumphant throughout the colony. Their armies
overran it. Charlestown, the chief city, had stood a
siege, and had fallen, after a protracted and honourable
defence. One-half of the military strength of the lower
country, then the most populous region, had become prisoners
of war by this disaster; and, for the present, were
thus incapacitated from giving any assistance to their
brethren in arms. Scattered, crushed, and disheartened
by repeated failures, the whigs, in numerous instances,
hopeless of any better fortune, had given in their adhesion
to the enemy, and had received a pledge of British
protection. This protection secured them, as it was
thought, in their property and persons, and its conditions
simply called for their neutrality. Many of the
more firm and honourably tenacious, scorning all compromise
with invasion, fled for shelter to the swamps
and mountains; and, through the former, all Europe
could not have traced their footsteps. In the whole
state, at this period, the cause of American liberty had
no head, and almost as little hope: all was gloomy and
unpromising. Marion, afterward styled the “Swamp
Fox,” and Sumter, the “Game Cock”—epithets aptly
descriptive of their several military attributes—had not
yet properly risen in arms, though both of them had
been engaged already in active and successful service.
Their places of retreat were at this time unknown;
and, certainly, they were not then looked to, as at an
after period, with that anxious reliance which their
valour subsequently taught their countrymen to entertain.
Nothing, indeed, could be more deplorably prostrate
than were the energies of the colony. Here and
there, only, did some little partisan squad make a stand,
or offer a show of resistance to the incursive British
or the marauding and malignant tory—disbanding, if
not defeated, most usually after the temporary object
had been obtained, and retreating for security into shelter
and inaction. There was no sort of concert, save
in feeling, among the many who were still not unwilling
for the fight: they doubted or they dreaded one
another; they knew not whom to trust. The next-door
neighbour of the stanch whig was not unfrequently a
furious loyalist—as devoted to George the Third as the
other could have been to the intrinsic beauty of human
liberty. The contest of the Revolution, so far as it had
gone, had confirmed and made tenacious this spirit of
hostility and opposition, until, in the end, patriot and
loyalist had drawn the sword against one another, and
rebel and tory were the degrading epithets by which
they severally distinguished the individual whose throat
they strove to cut. When the metropolis fell into the
hands of the British, and their arms extended through
the state, the tories alone were active and formidable.
They now took satisfaction for their own previous
trials; and crime was never so dreadful a monster as
when they ministered to its appetites. Mingled in with
the regular troops of the British, or forming separate
bodies of their own, and officered from among themselves,
they penetrated the well-known recesses which
gave shelter to the fugitives. If the rebel resisted, they
slew him without quarter; if he submitted, they hung
him without benefit of clergy: they spoiled his children
of their possessions, and not unfrequently slew them
also. But few sections of the low and middle country
escaped their search. It was only in the bald regions
of North Carolina that the fugitives could find repose;
only where the most miserable poverty took from crime
all temptation, that the beaten and maltreated patriots
dared to give themselves a breathing-space from flight.
In the same manner the frontier-colony of Georgia had
already been overrun and ravaged by the conquerors;
and there, as it was less capable of resistance, all show
of opposition had been long since at an end. The invader,
deceived by these appearances, declared in
swelling language to his monarch, that the two colonies
were properly subjugated, and would now return
to their obedience. He knew not that, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 251 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The partisan | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The clouds were gathering fast—the waters were
troubled—and the approaching tumult and disquiet of
all things in Carolina, clearly indicated the coming of
that strife, so soon to overcast the scene—so long to
keep it darkened—so deeply to impurple it with blood.
The continentals were approaching rapidly, and the
effect was that of magic upon the long prostrated energies
of the South. The people were aroused, awakened,
stimulated, and emboldened. They gathered in
little squads throughout the country. The news was
generally abroad that Gates was to command the expected
army—Gates, the conqueror at Saratoga, whose
very name, at that time, was a host. The successes of
Sumter in the up-country, of Marion on the Peedee, of
Pickens with a troop of mounted riflemen—a new species
of force projected by himself—of Butler, of Horry,
James, and others, were generally whispered about
among the hitherto desponding whigs. These encouraging
prospects were not a little strengthened in
the parishes by rumours of small successes nearer at
hand. The swamps were now believed to be full of
enemies to royal power, only wanting imbodiment and
arms; and truly did Tarleton, dilating upon the condition
of things at this period in the colony, give a
melancholy summary of those influences which were
crowding together, as it was fondly thought by the
patriots, for the overwhelming of foreign domination. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 252 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Yemassee | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | There is a small section of country now comprised
within the limits of Beaufort District, in the State of
South Carolina, which, to this day, goes by the name
of Indian Land. The authorities are numerous which
show this district, running along, as it does, and on its
southern side bounded by, the Atlantic Ocean, to have
been the very first in North America, distinguished by
an European settlement. The design is attributed to
the celebrated Coligni, Admiral of France,[1]
[1]Dr. Melligan, one of the historians of South Carolina, says farther,
that a French settlement, under the same auspices, was actually
made at Charleston, and that the country received the name of La
Caroline, in honour of Charles IX. This is not so plausible, however,
for as the settlement was made by Huguenots, and under the auspices
of Coligni, it savours of extravagant courtesy to suppose that they
would pay so high a compliment to one of the most bitter enemies
of that religious toleration, in pursuit of which they deserted their
country. Charleston took its name from Charles IL, the reigning
English monarch at the time. Its earliest designation was Oyster
Point town, from the marine formation of its soil. Dr. Hewatt—
another of the early historians of Carolina, who possessed many advantages
in his work not common to other writers, having been a
careful gatherer of local and miscellaneous history—places the first
settlement of Jasper de Coligni, under the conduct of Jean Ribaud, at
the mouth of a river called Albemarle, which, strangely enough, the
narration finds in Florida. Here Ribaud is said to have built a fort,
and by him the country was called Carolina. May river, another
alleged place of original location for this colony, has been sometimes
identified with the St. John's and other waters of Florida or
Virginia; but opinion in Carolina settles down in favour of a stream
still bearing that name, and in Beaufort District, not far from the subsequent
permanent settlement. Old ruins, evidently French in their
origin, still exist in the neighbourhood.
who, in the
reign of Charles IX., conceived the project with the ulterior
view of securing a sanctuary for the Huguenots,
when they should be compelled, as he foresaw they
soon would, by the anti-religious persecutions of the
time, to fly from their native into foreign regions. This
settlement, however, proved unsuccessful; and the
events which history records of the subsequent efforts
of the French to establish colonies in the same neighbourhood,
while of unquestionable authority, have all
the air and appearance of the most delightful romance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 253 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Yemassee | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Some men only live for great occasions. They
sleep in the calm—but awake to double life, and unlooked-for
activity, in the tempest. They are the
zephyr in peace, the storm in war. They smile until
you think it impossible they should ever do otherwise,
and you are paralyzed when you behold the change
which an hour brings about in them. Their whole life
in public would seem a splendid deception; and as their
minds and feelings are generally beyond those of the
great mass which gathers about, and in the end depends
upon them, so they continually dazzle the vision and
distract the judgment of those who passingly observe
them. Such men become the tyrants of all the rest,
and, as there are two kinds of tyranny in the world,
they either enslave to cherish or to destroy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 254 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mellichampe | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The battle of Dorchester was over; the victorious
Partisans, successful in their object, and bearing away
with them the prisoner whom they had rescued from the
felon's death, were already beyond the reach of their
enemies, when Colonel Proctor, the commander of the
British post, sallied forth from his station in the hope to
retrieve, if possible, the fortunes of the day. A feeling
of delicacy, and a genuine sense of pain, had prompted
him to depute to a subordinate officer the duty of attending
Colonel Walton to the place of execution. The rescue
of the prisoner had the effect of inducing in his mind
a feeling of bitter self-reproach. The mortified pride
of the soldier, tenacious of his honour, and scrupulous
on the subject of his trust, succeeded to every feeling
of mere human forbearance; and, burning with shame
and indignation, the moment he heard a vague account
of the defeat of the guard and the rescue of Walton, he
led forth the entire force at his command, resolute to recover
the fugitive or redeem his forfeited credit by his
blood. He had not been prepared for such an event as
that which has been already narrated in the last pages of
“The Partisan,” and was scarcely less surprised, though
more resolute and ready, than the astounded soldiers
under his command. How should he have looked for
the presence of any force of the rebels at such a moment,
when the defeat and destruction of Gates's army,
so complete as it had been, had paralyzed, in the minds
of all, the last hope of the Americans? With an audacity
that seemed little less than madness, and was desperation,
a feeble but sleepless enemy had darted in between
the fowler and his prey—had wrested the victim of
the conqueror from his talons, even in the moment of
his fierce repast; and, with a wild courage and planned
impetuosity, had rushed into the very jaws of danger,
without shrinking, and with the most complete impunity. “`Dare Gin'ral—There's a power of red-coats jist
guine down by the back lane into your parts, and they do
tell that it's arter you they're guine. They're dressed
mighty fine, and has a heap of guns and horses, and as
much provisions as the wagons can tote. I makes bold
to tell you this, gin'ral, that you may smite them, hip and
thigh, even as the Israelites smote the bloody Philistians
in the blessed book. And so, no more, dare gin'ral,
from your sarvant to command, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 255 | Author: | Simms
William Gilmore
1806-1870 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mellichampe | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Let us retrace our steps—let us go back in our
narrative, and review the feelings and the fortunes of
other parties to our story, not less important to its details,
and quite as dear in our regards. Let us seek
the temporary dwelling of the Berkeley family, and contemplate
the condition and the employment of its inmates
during the progress of the severe strife of which
we have given a partial history. Its terrors were not
less imposing to them than they were to those who had
been actors in the conflict. To the young maidens,
indeed, it certainly was far more terrible than to the
brave men, warmed with the provocation and reckless
from the impulses of strife. And yet, how differently
did the events of the day affect the two maidens—how
forcibly did they bring out and illustrate their very different
characters. To the casual observer there was
very little change in the demeanour of Janet Berkeley.
She seemed the same subdued, sad, yet enduring and
uncomplaining creature, looking for affliction because
she had been so often subjected to its pressure; yet,
from that very cause, looking for it without apprehension,
and in all the strength of religious resignation. “You must convey the prisoner, Mellichampe,” so
ran that portion of it which concerned the maiden, “so
soon as his wounds will permit, under a strong guard, to
the city, where a court of officers will be designated for
his trial as a spy upon your encampment. You will
spare no effort to secure all the evidence necessary to
his conviction, and will yourself attend to the preferment
of the charges.” And there, after the details of other
matters and duties to be attended to and executed, was
the signature of the bloody dragoon, which she more
than once had seen before— | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 257 | Author: | Whittier
John Greenleaf
1807-1892 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Legends of New-England | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | One hundred years ago!—How has New-England
changed with the passing by of a single century! At
first view, it would seem like the mysterious transformations
of a dream, or like the strange mutations of
sunset-clouds upon the face of the Summer Heavens.
One hundred years ago!—The Oak struck its roots
deeply in the Earth, and tossed its branches loftily in
the sunshine, where now the voice of industry and
enterprise rises in one perpetual murmur. The shadows
of the forest lay brown and heavily, where now
the village church-spire overtops the dwellings clustered
about it. Instead of the poor, dependent and feeble
colonists of Britain, we are now a nation of ourselves—a
people, great and prosperous and happy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 258 | Author: | Kirkland
Caroline M.
(Caroline Matilda)
1801-1864 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Western clearings | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books | | | | Description: | The wild new country, with all its coarseness and all its
disadvantages of various kinds, has yet a fascination for the
settler, in consequence of a certain free, hearty tone, which has
long since disappeared, if indeed it ever existed, in parts of the
country where civilization has made greater progress. The
really fastidious, and those who only pretend to be such, may hold
this as poor compensation for the many things lacking of another
kind; but those to whose apprehension sympathy and sincerity
have a pre-eminent and independent charm, prefer the kindly
warmth of the untaught, to the icy chill of the half-taught; and
would rather be welcomed by the woodsman to his log-cabin, with
its rough hearth, than make one of a crowd who feed the ostentation
of a millionaire, or gaze with sated eyes upon costly feasts
which it would be a mockery to dignify with the name of hospitality.
The infrequency of inns in a newly settled country leads
naturally to the practice of keeping “open house” for strangers;
and it is rare indeed that the settler, however poor his accommodations,
hesitates to offer the best he has to the tired wayfarer.
Where payment is accepted, it is usually very inconsiderable;
and it is seldom accepted at all, unless the guest is manifestly
better off than his entertainer. But whether a compensation be
taken or refused, the heartiness of manner with which every thing
that the house affords is offered, cannot but be acceptable to the
visitor. Even the ever rampant pride, which comes up so disagreeably
at the West, where the outward appearance of the
stranger betokens any advantage of condition, slumbers when
that stranger claims hospitality. His horse is cared for with
more solicitude than the host ever bestows on his own; the table
is covered with the best provisions the house affords, set forth in
the holiday dishes; the bed is endued with the brightest patchwork
quilt—the pride of the housewife's heart; and if there be
any fat fowls—any white honey—any good tea—about the premises,
the guest will be sure to have it, even though it may have
been reserved for “Independence” or “Thanksgiving.” | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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