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41Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Viola, or, Adventures in the far South-west  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Away! away! away! three cheers for freedom! and ho for the sunny South!” “Dear Morton—We meet strangely —we have from the first—and since I saw you on the boat at New Orleans, I have thought there may be such a thing as a special Providence. Oh, Morton, if you love me—if you ever loved me— forsake me not now! Till I saw you last, despair had for months sat like an incubus upon my heart. Hope had fled me, and in vain I labored to lure her back. She came with you; and since then has fluttered in sight, but ready to take wing and leave me forever. You, Morton, and hope, are so united, that neither can come alone. Oh, misery! misery! how well I know the meaning of the term! What shall I say of the past? I could pour out my soul to you in words, were we together; but I can say nothing on paper. Yet something I must say. My mother is dead. My father—oh! that he better deserved the name!—what shall I say of him? Morton, to be brief, my father has sold me to a man I detest, and is now on his way to deliver me to my purchaser. In other words, and to speak without enigma, my father having failed in business, is resolved to retrieve his fortune by disposing of my hand to a French count, who boasts of a distant connection with Louis Philippe. He is rich, and owns a country seat somewhere near the Brazos; but I cannot direct you to it, nor do I even know the vicinity. I only know it is called D'Estang Ville. You may perhaps find it from the name —that is, should you care to trouble yourself about it. Thither I am to be transported; and once there my father has solemnly sworn I shall become the wife of D'Estang, or take the alternative of ending my days in a convent, in the interior of Mexico. Of the two, my choice is already made. I will never wed this count. Morton, my hope is in you, or death. If you fail me, the latter may not. I would not die now— but can I live a life of misery? I have knelt and prayed to my father to forego his terrible resolve. In vain. He is inexorable. Oh! how he has changed of late! He is another being. Mother and wealth were his idols. One is dead—the other lost; and now he would rebuild his fortunes on the crushed hopes and broken heart of his only child. He cannot love me, Morton, and I have learned to fear him. Could he have loved my mother? If so, why am I treated thus? Of M. D'Estang—he once visited my father in the city of Mexico. I was then a child—but it seems he conceived a passion for me even then, which years have strengthened rather than weakened. I say passion; for had he ever loved, he would not buy me like a slave now. How he and my father met within a year, and how one bought and the other sold me, I cannot tell you now—perhaps I may when we meet, should God permit us to meet again on earth. My hand trembles, and tears dim my eyes. Morton, dear Morton, I cannot write more. I have stolen away to do this. Will it ever reach you? and can you assist me if it does? Oh, Morton, by the sweet past! by our then happy hopes of the future! I conjure you to come to my aid! But you must come disguised. If seen and recognised, I verily believe your life will be taken. It is fearful to think so, Morton—it is terrible! No more. “I am a prisoner in the tower; secure the bearers of this; let no one leave the Ville, on pain of death, and come instantly to my release. “Let the bearers of this, my particular friends, be provided with four good horses, and be permitted to leave the Ville without question or hindrance.
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42Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Walde-Warren:  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Far up towards the headwaters of one of the tributaries of the Cumberland river, and not many leagues distant from that portion of the Cumberland mountains which divides the state of Tennessee, there is a wild, beautiful, romantic valley. This valley is about three miles in extent, oval in shape, with the breadth of a mile and a half in the centre, closing up at either end by the peculiar curve of the hills which environ it, and leaving just sufficient space for the passage of the stream alluded to, and a traveled road which winds along its banks and slightly cuts the southern base of the projecting eminences. About central way of this valley, is a quiet, picturesque village, of neat white houses, overlooked by the mountains, and as rural and sequestered as one could wish to find. This village occupies both sides of the stream, which is spanned by an arched wooden bridge, beneath which the waters sparkle, foam and roar, as they dash over a rocky bed, and dart away with the frolic-someness of youth. In fact the stream itself may not inappropriately be likened to a youth just freed from the trammels and helplessness of infancy, when budding strength begins to give buoyancy, independence, ambition, and love of wild adventure; for, nurtured among the mountains, and fed to a good estate, it has burst from the control of parental nature, and now comes hopping, skipping and dancing along, with childish playfulness—occasionally sobered for a moment as it glides past some steep overhanging cliff, like a youth full of timid curiosity on entering a place of deep shadow—but in the main, wild, merry and sportive—laughing in the sunshine—rollicking, gamboling, purling and roaring—now playing hide and seek among the bushes, and now rushing away, with might and main, to explore the world that lays before it, unconscious that aught of difficulty may lie in its path.
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43Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Wild Scenes on the Frontiers, Or, Heroes of the West  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: We talk of the ferocity, the vindictiveness, the treachery, and the cruelty of the native savage; and, painting him in the darkest colors, tell how, when his hunting grounds covered the sites of our now proudest cities, he was wont to steal down upon a few harmless whites, our forefathers, and butcher them in cold blood, sparing neither sex nor age, except for a painful captivity, to end perhaps in the most demoniac tortures; and we dwell upon the theme, till our little innocent children shudder and creep close to our sides, and look fearfully around them, and perhaps wonder how the good God, of whom they have also heard us speak, could ever have permitted such human monsters to encumber His fair and beautiful earth. But do we reverse the medal and show the picture which impartial Truth has stamped upon the other side—and which, in a great measure, stands as a cause to the opposite effect—stands as a cause for savage ferocity, vindictiveness, treachery and cruelty? Do we tell our young and eager listeners that the poor Indian, living up to the light he had, and not unfrequently beyond it, knew no better than to turn, like the worm when trampled upon, and bite the foot that crushed him? That we had taken the land of his father's graves and driven him from his birthright hunting grounds? That we had stolen his cattle, robbed him of his food, destroyed his growing fields, burned his wigwams, and murdered his brothers, fathers, wives and little ones, besides instigating tribe to war against tribe—and that, knowing nothing of the Christian code, to return good for evil, he fulfilled the law of his nature and education in taking his “great revenge” upon any of the pale-faced race he should chance to meet? No! we seldom show this side of the medal—for the natural inquiry of the innocent listener might contain an unpleasant rebuke:
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44Author:  Ward Artemus 1834-1867Add
 Title:  Artemus Ward in London  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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45Author:  Ward Artemus 1834-1867Add
 Title:  Artemus Ward's panorama  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: YOU are entirely welcome ladies and gentlemen to my little picture-shop.1 1 “My little picture-shop.”—I have already stated that the room used was the lesser of the two on the first-floor of the Egyptian Hall. The panorama was to the left on entering, and Artemus Ward stood at the south-east corner facing the door. He had beside him a music-stand, on which for the first few days he availed himself of the assistance afforded by a sheet of foolscap on which all his “cues” were written out in a large hand. The proscenium was covered with dark cloth, and the picture bounded by a great gilt frame. On the rostrum behind the lecturer was a little door giving admission to the space behind the picture where the piano was placed. Through this door Artemus would disappear occasionally in the course of the evening, either to instruct his pianist to play a few more bars of music, to tell his assistants to roll the picture more quickly or more slowly, or to give some instructions to the man who worked “the moon.” The little lecture-room was thronged nightly during the very few weeks of its being open. My dear Sir,—My wife was dangerously unwell for over sixteen years. She was so weak that she could not lift a teaspoon to her mouth. But in a fortunate moment she commenced reading one of your lectures. She got better at once. She gained strength so rapidly that she lifted the cottage piano quite a distance from the floor, and then tipped it over on to her mother-in-law, with whom she had had some little trouble. We like your lectures very much. Please send me a barrel of them. If you should require any more recommendations, you can get any number of them in this place, at two shillings each, the price I charge for this one, and I trust you may be ever happy.
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46Author:  Twain Mark 1835-1910Add
 Title:  Mark Twain's Sketches  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: 502EAF. Page 003. In-line Illustration. Image of a sarcophagus with the carved figure of a man on top of it. A cat is sleeping on the figure's feet.
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47Author:  Melville Herman 1819-1891Add
 Title:  Typee  
 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 & Putnam's library of American books | wiley & putnams library of american books 
 Description: Six months at sea! Yes, reader, as I live, six months out of sight of land; cruising after the sperm-whale beneath the scorching sun of the Line, and tossed on the billows of the wide-rolling Pacific—the sky above, the sea around, and nothing else! Weeks and weeks ago our fresh provisions were all exhausted. There is not a sweet potato left; not a single yam. Those glorious bunches of bananas which once decorated our stern and quarter-deck, have, alas, disappeared! and the delicious oranges which hung suspended from our tops and stays—they, too, are gone! Yes, they are all departed, and there is nothing left us but salt-horse and sea-biscuit. Oh! ye state-room sailors, who make so much ado about a fourteen days' passage across the Atlantic; who so pathetically relate the privations and hardships of the sea, where, after a day of breakfasting, lunching, dining off five courses, chatting, playing whist, and drinking champaignpunch, it was your hard lot to be shut up in little cabinets of mahogany and maple, and sleep for ten hours, with nothing to disturb you but “those good-for-nothing tars, shouting and tramping over head,”—what would ye say to our six months out of sight of land? Returning health and peace of mind gave a new interest to everything around me. I sought to diversify my time by as many enjoyments as lay within my reach. Bathing in company with troops of girls formed one of my chief amusements. We sometimes enjoyed the recreation in the waters of a miniature lake, into which the central stream of the valley expanded. This lovely sheet of water was almost circular in figure, and about three hundred yards across. Its beauty was indescribable. All around its banks waved luxuriant masses of tropical foliage, soaring high above which were seen, here and there, the symmetrical shaft of the cocoa-nut tree, surmounted by its tuft of graceful branches, drooping in the air like so many waving ostrich plumes.
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