| | 141 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Fairfax, or, The master of Greenway Court  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | ON an evening of October, in the year 1748, the
slopes of the Blue Ridge at Ashby's Gap were all
ablaze with the red light of the sinking sun. “Mr. Falconbridge:—After much doubt I address you,
to warn you, as a friend, against allowing your affections to be ensnared
by Miss B. Argal. I have no right, sir, to pry into your matters, and
maybe I will get no thanks, but your courtesy to me makes it impossible
for me to see you duped. Captain Wagner will not speak out—he
says that he has already said more than he had a right to—and I will,
therefore, do so myself. The paper which I put in this letter will tell
you all. The poor young man was a distant relative of mine, and died
at my house. He wrote the paper just before his death. I will add no
more, except that I have no private grudge against Miss Argal, and so
remain, “I am about to commit suicide. Before putting an end to my miserable
life, I will relate the circumstances which impel me to the act. My
mind is perfectly sane, my memory good—I will speak calmly. This is
my history: “The poor young man was found dead when we ran at
the explosion of his pistol. This paper was lying on the
table. Mr. Harley Austin returned it to me, not wishing to
keep it; he has since left the country.” “I desire, and if necessary require that the prisoner Powell may be
treated with all respect, and especially brought to Court without hand-cuffs. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 142 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Hammer and rapier | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | On the night of the 17th of July, 1861, a man,
standing upon the earthworks at Manassas, was looking
toward Centreville. “If the head of Lee's army is at Martinsburg,” wrote
Lincoln, “and the tail of it on the Plank Road between
Fredericksburg and Chancellorville, the animal must
be very slim somewhere—could you not break him? | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 143 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Henry St. John, gentleman, of "Flower of Hundreds," in the county of Prince George, Virginia | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It is a beautiful May morning, in the year 1774. I desire to be informed why you have not written to
me, madam? Has that odious domestic tyrant, Mr. Willie,
forbidden you to correspond with your friends? You may
inform him, with my compliments, that I regard him in the
light of a monster, an ogre, an eastern despot, else he would
not keep the dearest girl in the world down at that horrid
old house in Glo'ster—if it is so fine—when her friends are
dying to see her. “Give my love to Mr. Willie, and write soon, my precious
Kate. How I love you! Won't you come soon? Do,
there's a dear! Vanely's looking beautiful with green
leaves, and I long to see you, to hear your dear, kind laugh,
and kiss you to my heart's content! Tom Alston said, the
other day, that I reminded him frequently of you. I could
have run and kissed him, I assure you. “I thought I should have died of laughing, Kate!
He drove up to the door in his little sulky, with the pretty
bay trotter, and got out with as easy and careless an air as if
nothing at all had happened on his last visit. I think he is
the most delightfully cool personage I've ever known, and
were I one of the medical profession, I should prescribe for the
spleen or melancholy, a single dose of Mr. Thomas Alston!
His demeanor to sister Helen all day was really enchanting.
The most critical observer could not have discerned a shade
of embarrassment on his part. At first she was very much
put out, but I believe she ended by laughing—at least I saw
her smile. He inquired how Miss Helen had been since he
had last the pleasure of seeing her; he was happy to say
that his own health and spirits had been excellent! “I am just getting into the saddle for Williamsburg,
but write to say that Serapis won the purse. He was nearly
distanced the first heat, but won the two others over every
horse upon the ground. He's worth a thousand pounds. “Sir:—The accompanying verses are sent to you by a
Country Girl, who hopes they will meet your Approval.
Your Correspondent withholds her Name from Fear of the
Criticks, whom she truly detests. They're an odious Set!
are they not, Mr. Purdie? A Portion of the Effusion may
make you laugh, Sir. I offer you a Salute to bribe you in
Favour of my Verses; but observe, Sir! 't is only when you
find me out! That I'm resolved you shall never do. All
I shall say is, that I've the Honour to be humble Cousin to a
very high Military Functionary of this Colony, who honours
me with his Esteem! Now do print my effusion, dear, good
Mr. Purdie. I like you so much because you are a true
Friend to the Cause of Liberty. We've sealed up all our
Tea, and I'd walk with bare Feet on hot Ploughshares before
I'd drink a drop of the odious Stuff! “Papa bids me write to your lordship, and say that you
need not trouble yourself to engage apartments for us at
Mrs. White's, on the night of assembly, as Mr. Burwell has
invited us all to stay with him at his town residence, and I
know somebody who's as glad as glad can be, for she'll see
her dear Belle-Bouche—Miss Burwell once, but now unhappily
a victim on the altar of matrimony.†
† Ibid., No. XV.
“Well, Tom, I've got my quietus. You've the pleasure
of hearing from a young gentleman who's just been discarded! “Your letter really astonished me, my dear boy—it did,
upon my word. You will permit me to observe that you
are really the most unreasonable and exacting of all the
lovers that I've read of, from the time of Achilles to the
present hour. “I send you the contents of your memorandum, as far
as I could procure the articles, and am sorry to hear that
you are indisposed. I trust 't is but trifling. I might beg
your pardon for detaining Dick, and for sending an inferior
quality of hair powder, but I have been too much troubled
to have my right wits about me. “Most beloved of friends, and estimable of gentlemen,
but also most superstitutious of correspondents, and strangest
of Sancti Johannes! I have perused thy letter with abundant
laughter, and return unto thee my most grateful thanks
for dissipating a catarrh which has troubled me this fortnight! “Your letter, my dear friend, was scarcely different from
what I expected. I was perfectly well aware of the fact
that my account of the singular influence I experienced
would excite rather laughter than sympathy, and I even
add that your reply contained less of banter than I expected. “I HAVE followed your advice, and made the journey
which you suggested, carrying with me the letter, and intending
to add what you advised me to add to my address. “Is it wrong for me to write to you? We were cousins
once, with some affection for each other—I at least for you.
I do not add that we have ever been any thing more, for
that would doubtless wound and offend you. I would not
wound or offend you; I am too unhappy to think of reproaches.
Once I might have given way to my passionate
temperament, and uttered wild words; now I have no
such words to utter. I acquiesce in all you do and say,
and scarcely dare to write these lines—to my cousin, as it
were. “I have received your strange letter, in which you speak
of our union, and your plans in making additions to you residence,
suggested, you say, by myself. It was not my intention
to make such suggestions, and I hope the addition
will be stopped. At least I do not wish you to indulge the
hope that I shall ever become its inmate. “'Tis so long since I've written to my Kate that she
must almost have forgotten me. But you will not think,
my dear, that this silence has proceeded from forgetfulness;
that is not possible toward the dearest girl in the world. “Doncastle's Ordinary, New Kent, May 4, 1775. Received
from the Hon. Richard Corbin, Esq., his Majesty's
Receiver-General, 330l., as a compensation for the gunpowder
lately taken out of the public magazine by the Governor's
order, which money I promise to convey to the Virginia
delegates at the general congress, to be, under their direction,
laid out in gunpowder for the colony's use, and to be
stored as they shall direct until the next colony convention
or general assembly, unless it shall be necessary, in the meantime,
to use the same in the defense of this colony. It is
agreed that, in case the next convention shall determine
that any part of the said money ought to be returned to his
Majesty's said Receiver-General, that the same shall be done
accordingly. “How long it seems now since I've written to my own
dear Kate! I received, more than three weeks since, your
kind, sweet letter, and only my unhappiness has prevented
me from replying. You may not consider this a good reason,
but it is true. When we suffer little sorrows, and are
sad only, then we fly to our friends and unbosom ourselves,
and the act brings us consolation. This is not the case, I
think, when we are deeply wounded, as I am. I ask only
silence and quiet, for nothing relieves me, not even writing
to my Kate! “In my last letter, dear Kate, I told you I was coming
hither in search of some color for my cheeks. I am sorry
to say I've not found it. I think the air's not as wholesome
to me as that of Prince George, and in a day or two I
shall set out on my return to Vanely. “I have looked everywhere to find you, friend, having,
by a strange chance, received what I know is of importance
to you. 'Tis a letter which, with this, I entrust to my
child, having an instant call away; my foot is in the stirrup.
'T will reach you in time, however, I do not doubt, for
20*
Blossom has the unerring instinct of affection, to which I
trust. “The words which you are about to read come from
one who has been guilty of deception, treachery, forgery
and robbery, and therefore at first you may not give credit
to my statements. Before I have finished what I design
writing, however, you will give implicit credence to what
I say. ... “God bless you, my dear child! and grant that we may
again meet, in your native country, as freemen; otherwise, that we
never see each other more, is the prayer of ... “I conjure you as you value the liberties and rights of the
community of which you are a member, not to lose a moment, and
in my name, if my name is of consequence enough, to direct the commanding
officer of your troops at Annapolis, immediately to seize the
person of Governor Eden; the sin and blame be on my head. I will
answer for all to the Congress.... God Almighty give us wisdom
and vigor in this hour of trial. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 145 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Hilt to hilt, or, Days and nights on the banks of the Shenandoah in the autumn of 1864 | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | In the first days of autumn, 1864, I left Petersburg,
where Lee confronted Grant, to go on a tour
of duty to the Shenandoah Valley, where Early confronted
Sheridan. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 146 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Justin Harley | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Colonel Joshua Hartright, tall, portly, about sixty, wearing the
dress of a Virginia planter, came hastily, one autumn morning,
into the drawing-room of his house at “Oakhill,” on the south side
of James River, and limping along with the assistance of his gold-headed
cane, went into one of the windows and looked out upon
the landscape. “Sir: I have reason to conclude that you have been borrowing
money on your expectations, in connection with my late brother's
property, to waste in reckless extravagance in foreign countries.
I write this to inform you that, if I have a say in that matter, as I
think I have, you will be dissappointed. I will not have the property
of my brother George pass into the hands of money-lenders to
supply your extravagance or your vices. “Sir: So be it. Life is, after all, so stupid an affair that justice
or injustice are the same. “Sir: Be good enough to come to Oakhill as soon as it suits your
convenience, as I have discovered a document in the handwriting
of my late brother, addressed to yourself, which I should prefer to
deliver into your hands rather than to entrust to a messenger, inasmuch
as it is marked `important.' “My Dear St. Leger—I am called away this morning upon business,
and may not possibly return until to-morrow or the next day.
Try to amuse yourself. You must have returned late last night.
Were you at Blandfield? These affairs are always renewed. Bon
voyage, mon ami! “Justin Harley, Esq., Huntsdon. “Sir: Your reply to my letter is not satisfactory. I am compelled
to raise the amount lent you on mortgage without delay. I
therefore have to notify you that legal proceedings will be duly
instituted to foreclose the mortgages, and recover the amount due
as per statement yesterday, viz, £7200, 7s. 6d. “I am going away, and leave this for you; you will find it, for
you will come. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 147 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The last of the foresters, or, Humors on the border | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | On a bright October morning, when the last century was
rapidly going down hill, and all old things began to give way to
the new, the sun was shining in upon the breakfast room at
Apple Orchard with a joyous splendor, which, perhaps, he had
never before displayed in tarrying at that domain, or any other. “Since seeing thee, on yester eve, my feelings have greatly
changed in intensity, and I fluctuate beneath an emotion of oblivious
delight. Alas! we young, weak women, try in vain to
obstruct the gurgling of the bosom; for I perceive that even
I am not proof against the arrows of the god Diana. My heart
has thrilled, my dearest friend, ever since you departed, yester eve,
with a devious and intrinsic sensation of voluminous delight.
The feelings cannot be concealed, but must be impressed in words;
or, as the great Milton says, in his Bucoliks, the o'er-fraught
heart would break! Love, my dear Mr. Verty, is contiguons—
you cannot be near the beloved object without catching the
contagion, and to this fact I distribute that flame which now
flickers with intense conflagration in my bosom. Why, cruel
member of the other sex! did you evade the privacy of our
innocent and nocturnal retreat, turning the salubrious and maiden
emotions of my bosom into agonizing delight and repressible
tribulation! Could you not practice upon others the wiles of
your intrinsic charms, and spare the weak Sallianna, whose only
desire was to contemplate the beauties of nature in her calm
retreat, where a small property sufficed for all her mundane necessities?
Alas! but yester morn I was cheerful and invigorating—
with a large criterion of animal spirits, and a bosom which had
never sighed responsible to the flattering vows of beaux. But
now!—ask me not how I feel, in thinking of the person who has
touched my indurate heart. Need I say that the individual in
question has only to demand that heart, to have it detailed to him
in all its infantile simplicity and diurnal self-reliance? Do not—
do not—diffuse it! “Reclining in my apartment this evening, and reflecting upon
the pleasing scenes through which we have passed together—
alas! never to be renewed, since you are not going to return—
those beautiful words of the Swan of Avon occurred to me:
`To be or not to be—that is the question;
Whether 'tis better in this world to bear
The slings and arrows of—'
I don't remember the rest; but the whole of this handsome soliloquy
expresses my sentiments, and the sincerity with which, “I need not say how sorry I am to part with you. We have
seen a great deal of each other, and I trust that our friendship
will continue through after life. The next session will be dull
without you—I do not mean to flatter—as you go away. You
carry with you the sincere friendship and kindest regards of, “You are destined for great things—it is yours to scale the
heights of song, and snatch the crown from Ossa's lofty brow.
Fulfil your destiny, and make your country happy!” “May your course in life be serene and happy; and may your
friends be as numerous and devoted as the flies and mosquitos in
the Eastern Range. “You ask me, my dear Ashley, to give you some advice, and
write down my good wishes, if I have any in your direction. Of
course I have, my dear fellow, and here goes. My advice first,
then, is, never to drink more than three bottles of wine at one
sitting—this is enough; and six bottles is, therefore, according to
the most reliable rules of logic—which I hate—too much. You
might do it if you had my head; but you havn't, and there's an
end of it. Next, if you want to bet at races, ascertain which
horse is the general `favorite,' and as our friend, the ostler, at the
Raleigh says—go agin him. Human nature invariably goes
wrong; and this a wise man will never forget. Next, if you
have the playing mania, never play with anybody but gentlemen.
You will thus have the consolation of reflecting that you have
been ruined in good company, and, in addition, had your pleasure;—blacklegs
ruin a man with a vulgar rapidity which is positively
shocking. Next, my dear boy—though this I need'nt tell
you—never look at Greek after leaving college, or Moral Philosophy,
or Mathematics proper. It interferes with a man's education,
which commences when he has recovered from the disadvantages
of college. Lastly, my dear fellow, never fall in love with any
woman—if you do, you will inevitably repent it. This world
would get on quietly without them—as long as it lasted—and I
need'nt tell you that the Trojan War, and other interesting
events, never would have happened, but for bright, eyes, and sighs,
and that sort of thing. If you are obliged to marry, because you
have an establishment, write the names of your lady acquaintances
on scraps of paper, put them in your hat, and draw one
forth at random. This admirable plan saves a great deal of
trouble, and you will inevitably get a wife who, in all things,
will make you miserable. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 148 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Leather stocking and silk, or, Hunter John Myers and his times | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “You are very foolish Max. Why did you take all
the trouble to write that note? Besides, I disapprove of
such things. You must not write to my scholars. I
know it was a jest, but it was wrong. I saw you in the
mirror over the harpsichord, and Josephine gave me the
note. I send my boots, as you call them. Why did you
not ask for them? Always ask me for what you want.
If it is in my power I will refuse you nothing that I can
properly grant. You are very welcome to the shoes. “I must leave you, uncle; I ask your pardon for this
act, because you have always been most kind to me,
much kinder and more affectionate than I deserved, I
know. Just now I was angry, my blood was hot and I
uttered words which I should not have uttered. Pardon
this, too—for my brain is still heated, and my hand trembles
with agitation. I am going away, because I feel
that I can not remain; not on account of your harsh words
which irritated me at the moment; I no longer feel any
irritation. It is not on account of those words, but because
I should be miserable, a mere walking automaton,
if I were to remain longer in the place where my heart
has been so cruelly torn—not by any one's fault—no!—
by my destiny. “Sir—I write to say that I shall be unavoidably absent
from Virginia for a week or more. This explanation
of my sudden departure I am called upon to make after
what passed yesterday. There was no possibility of mistaking
your meaning on that occasion—and I now make
you as ample amends for my departure as I am able to
do, by accepting your challenge in advance. Permit me
to add that I disapprove of mortal combat on trifling
grounds, and do not on this occasion consent to the meeting
because any person—whether a lady or not—would
ridicule me in the event of my refusal. I believe I should
have enough of independence to meet the eyes of the
whole world and return them their scornful laugh, did I
choose to refuse an encounter of this description. No,
sir; believe me, young as I am, I should never be moved
by such opinion, whether it were the scorn of men, or that
more dreadful thing the contemptuous pity of women.
I meet you willingly because you have placed yourself in
my way, and because I hate you. There is an honest
word—if it is not very Christian. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 150 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Pretty Mrs. Gaston, and other stories | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Sir—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of
your communication of to-day on the subject of the late
Mr. Cleave's testamentary disposition of his estate, and
to express my regret that the discovery of the wishes of
the deceased in connection with Miss Bell should have
taken place after so long a period of time. As the friend
of the late Mr. Cleave, and if you will permit me to add,
as the friend of yourself, I would suggest, as your most
advisable course under all the circumstances, a prompt
compliance with the terms of the instrument referred
to. Miss Bell is, I am informed, a young lady of amiable
disposition and great personal attractions, and I have
no doubt would readily be brought to see the propriety
of the arrangement in question. “Amiable Mr. Allan Gartrell: Your unappreciated
friend, Mr. John Brown, presents his compliments,
and begs to state that not finding a longer stay at your
hospitable mansion agreeable to his feelings, he has reluctantly
concluded to tear himself away. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 151 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Surry of Eagle's-nest, or, The memoirs of a staff-officer serving in Virginia | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Having returned to “Eagle's-Nest,” and hung up a dingy
gray uniform and batered old sabre for the inspection of my
descendants, I propose to employ some leisure hours in recording
my recollections, and describing, while they are fresh in my
memory, a few incidents of the late Revolution. “General:—Hold your ground only ten minutes longer, and
the enemy will fall back. I have captured a courier from General
Shields. His line is ordered to retire. “General:—The bearer, Major Surry, of my staff, is sent to
superintend the burial of my dead in the action yesterday, and
look after the wounded. I have the honor to request that he
may be permitted to pass your lines for that purpose. He will
give any parole you require. “Will you lend me Colonel Surry for three or four days? “Certainly. “For the sake of one who fell at Kelly's Ford, March 17th,
'63, an unknown Georgian sends you a simple cluster of young
spring flowers. You loved the `gallant Pelham,' and your
words of love and sympathy are `immortelles' in the hearts that
loved him. I have never met you, I may never meet you, but
you have a true friend in me. I know that sad hearts mourn
him in Virginia, and a darkened home in Alabama tells the sorrow
there. My friendship for him was pure as a sister's love, or
a spirit's. I had never heard his voice. “For some time now it has been plain to me that our engagement
is distasteful to you, and that you wish to be released from
it. Considering the fact that you gave me ample encouragement,
and never, until you met with a person whom I need not name,
showed any dissatisfaction at the prospect of becoming Mrs.
Baskerville, I might be justified in demanding the fulfilment of
your engagement. But I do not wish to coerce the action of
any young lady, however my feelings may be involved, and I scorn
to take advantage of a compact made in good faith by my late
father and myself. I therefore release you from your engagement. “I received your note. Thank you, sir! If I could have induced
you to write that letter by kneeling before you, I should
have knelt to you. “An unknown friend, who takes an interest in you, writes
these lines, to put you in possession of facts which it is proper
you should be acquainted with. “I have just had a visit from Mrs. Parkins, and she has made
some astonishing disclosures, of the deepest importance to you.
She declares that you have a son now living, and, before she left
me, I succeeded in discovering that you will be able to learn all
about him by visiting a Mrs. Bates, near Frederick City, Maryland,
who is in some way connected with this mysterious affair.
I think that Mrs. Parkins went to Maryland to inquire into this,
with the design of obtaining a reward from you—but she has
now left Elm Cottage, and I do not know where you will find
her. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 152 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The youth of Jefferson, or, A chronicle of college scrapes at Williamsburg, in Virginia, A.D. 1764 | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | ON a fine May morning in the year 1764,—that is to
say, between the peace at Fontainebleau and the
stamp act agitation, which great events have fortunately
no connection with the present narrative,—a young man
mounted on an elegant horse, and covered from head to
foot with lace, velvet, and embroidery, stopped before a
small house in the town or city of Williamsburg, the
capital of Virginia. “You insulted a lady in my presence yesterday evening, and I demand
from you a retraction of all that you uttered. I am not skilled in
writing, but you will understand me. The friend who bears this will
bring your answer. “For you know you begin `Mr. Hoffland!' as if you said, `Stand
and deliver!'—I have read your note, and I am sure I shan't be able to
write half as well. I am so young that, unfortunately, I have never had
an affair, which is a great pity, for I would then know how to write
beautiful long sentences that no one could possibly fail to understand. “Your note is not satisfactory at all. I did not quarrel with your
opinion of yourself, and you know it. I was not foolish enough to be
angry at your declaring that you wer engaged to some lady already.
You spoke of a lady who is my friend, and what you said was insulting. “Stop!—I didn't say I was engaged to any lady: no misunderstanding. “I do not understand your note. You evade my request for an explanation.
I think, therefore, that the shortest way will be to end the
matter at once. “Oh, Mr. Denis, to shoot me in cold blood! Well, never mind! Of
course it's a challenge. But who in the world will be my `friend'?
Please advise me. You know Ernest ought not to—decidedly. He
likes you, and you seemed to like Miss Lucy, who must be a very sweet
girl as she is Ernest's sister. Therefore, as I have no other friend but
Ernest, I should think we might arrange the whole affair without
troubling him. I have been talking with some people, and they say I
have `the choice of weapons'—because you challenged me, you know.
I would rather fight with a sword, I think, than be shot, but I think we
had better have pistols. I therefore suggest pistols, and I have been
reading all about fighting, and can lay down the rules. “Your note is very strange. You ask me to advise you whom to
take as your second; and then you lay down rules which I never
heard of before. I suppose a gentleman can right his grievances without
having to fight first and marry afterwards. What you write is so
much like joking, that I do n't know what to make of it. You seem to
be very young and inexperienced, sir, and you say you have no friend
but Mowbray. “Joking, my dear fellow? Of course I was joking! Did you think
I really was in earnest when I said that I was so handsome, and was engaged
already, et cetera, and so forth, as one of my friends used to say?
I was jesting! For on my sacred word of honor, I am not engaged to
any one—and yet I could not marry Lucy. I am wedded already—to
my own ideas! I am not my own master—and yet I have no mistress! “I am very glad you were joking, and I am glad you have said so
with manly courtesy—though I am at a loss to understand why you
wished to `tease' me. But I do n't take offence, and am sure the whole
matter was a jest. I hope you will not jest with me any more upon
such a subject—I am very hasty; and my experience has told me that
most men that fall in duels, are killed for this very jesting. “Your apology is perfectly satisfactory.—But I forgot! I made
the apology myself! Well, it's all the same, and I am glad we have n't
killed each other—for then, you know, we would have been dead now. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 153 | Author: | Harte
Bret
1836-1902 | Add | | | Title: | Condensed Novels and Other Papers | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “My Dear Boy:—I regret to inform you that in all probability
you are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to say, was a
highly improper person. Who your father may be, I really cannot
say, but perhaps the Honorable Henry Boltrope, Captain R.
N., may be able to inform you. Circumstances over which I have
no control, have deferred this important disclosure. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 154 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “My dear Champ—I have heard of your conduct, sir,
and have no intention of being made the laughing-stock of
my neighbors, as the father of a fool. No, sir! I decline
being advised and pitied, and talked about and to by the
country on your account. I know why you have left the
Hall, sir, and taken up your residence in town. Alethea
has told me how you insulted her, and flouted her well-meant
advice, and because she entreated you, as your sister, not to
go near that young woman again, tossed from her, and fell
into your present courses. I tell you again, sir, that I will
not endure your conduct. I won't have the parson condoling,
and shaking his head, and sighing, and, when he comes
in the Litany to pray for deliverance from all inordinate and
sinful affections—from all the deceits of the world, the
flesh, and the devil—have him looking at the Hall pew,
and groaning, until every body understands his meaning.
No, sir! If you make yourself a fool about that common
actress, you shall not drag us into it. And Clare Lee!
have you no regard for her feelings? Damn my blood, sir!
I am ashamed of you. Come away directly. If you are
guilty of any thing unworthy toward that young woman, I
will strike your name from the family Bible, and never look
upon your face again. Remember, sir; and you won't be
fool enough to marry her, I hope. Try it, sir, and see the
consequence. Pah! a common actress for my daughter—
the wife of the representative of the house of Effingham,
after my death. 'Sdeah, sir! it is intolerable, abominable;
and I command you to return at once, and never look upon
that young woman again. For shame, sir. Am I, at my
age, to be made a laughing-stock of, to be jeered at by the
common people, at the county court, as the father of the
young man that played the fool with the actress? No, sir.
Leave that place, and come and do what you are expected to
do, called on to do—take Clare Lee to the Governor's ball.
I inclose your invitation. Leave that woman and her artful
seductions. Reflect, sir, and do your duty to Clare, like a
gentleman. If it is necessary, I repeat, sir, I command you
to return, and never see that girl again. “I have received your letter, sir, and decline returning
to Effingham Hall, or being dictated to. I have passed my
majority, and am my own master. No one on earth shall
make a slave of me. “A man about to die, calls on the only Englishman he
knows in this place, to do a deed of charity. Hallam, we
were friends—a long time since, in Kent, Old England, and
to you I make this appeal, which you will read when I will
be cold and stiff. You know we were rivals—Jane chose
to marry me! I used no underhand acts, but fought it fairly
and like an honest soldier—and won her. You know it, and
are too honest a man to bear me any grudge now. I married
her, and we went away to foreign countries, and I became
a soldier of fortune—now here—now there:—it runs
in the family, for my father was covered with wounds. She
stuck to me—sharing all my trials—my suffering—as she
shared my fortunate days. She was my only hope on earth
—my blessing:—but one day God took her from me. She
died, Hallam, but she left herself behind in a little daughter
—I called her Beatrice, at the request of her mother. The
locket around the child's neck, is her mother's gift to her:
preserve it. Well: we travelled—I grew sick—I came to
Malta, here—I am dying. Already I feel the cold mounting
from my feet to my heart—my eyes are growing hazy, as
my hand staggers along—my last battle's come, comrade!
Take the child, and carry her to my brother John Waters,
who lives in London somewhere—find where he is, and tell
him, that Ralph Waters sends his baby to him to take care
of:—she is yonder playing on the floor while I am dying. I
ask you to do this, because you are an honest man, and because
you loved Jane once. I have no money—all I had is
gone for doctor's stuff and that:—he couldn't stand up
against death! Keep my military coat to remember me by
—it is all I have got. As you loved her who was my wife,
now up in heaven, take care of the child of an English soldier;
and God reward you. “Please come to me. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 155 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion | | | | 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: | “This indenture, made in the month of March, of the
year of grace one thousand seven hundred and ninety-five,
in the Colony of Virginia, Continent of North America,—” “Come over to `the Trap,' and dine and sleep with me.
Be sure to be in trim to ride through a cane-brake, that is,
in buff and leather: and ride Tom—the large piebald: he's
a glorious animal, by George! “Oh my dear Miss Donsy! “I regret the harshness and passion of my address to you
yesterday. I trust you will not permit it to remain in your
recollection. I have no calmness on that subject, and for
this reason must ask you never again to allude to it. I am
afraid of myself. For God's sake! don't arouse the devil in
me when I am trying to lull it, at the risk of breaking my
heart in the attempt. This is an unhappy world, and devious are the
ways thereof. Man—especially a rude fellow, morbleu!—
knows not what to do often; he is puzzled; he hesitates and
stands still. Do you ask me what I mean by this small moral
discourse? Parbleu! I mean that I am the rude fellow
and the puzzled man. Your letter is offensive—I will not make any derogatory
agreement with you, sir. I would rather end all at
once, and I hereby call on you to meet me, sir, this very day,
at the Banks' Cross-roads. At five o'clock this evening, I
shall await you. “Not simply `sir,' because you are what I have
written—friend, companion. Let me out with what I would
write at once—and in the best manner I can write it, being
but a rude soldier, unused to handling the pen. “I accede to the request of Captain Waters. I know
him for a brave soldier, and a most honorable man. I ask
nothing more. The rest lies with my daughter. “I know what I have done is disgraceful, and horrible,
and awful, and all that—but it was meant well, and I
don't care what you may say; it has succeeded. The time
to acknowledge the trick is come, and here goes. It went
this way: | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 157 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | | Title: | Prismatics | | | | 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: | “The loveliest thing in life,” says a gifted author, “is
the mind of a young child.” The most sensitive
thing, he might have added, is the heart of a young
artist. Hiding in his bosom a veiled and unspeakable
beauty, the inspired Neophyte shrinks from contact with
the actual, to lose himself in delicious reveries of an ideal
world. In those enchanted regions, the great and powerful
of the earth; the warrior-statesmen of the Elizabethan
era; the steel-clad warriors of the mediæval ages; gorgeous
cathedrals, and the luxuriant pomp of prelates, who had
princes for their vassals; courts of fabled and forgotten
kings; and in the deepening gloom of antiquity, the nude
Briton and the painted Pict pass before his enraptured
eyes. Women, beautiful creations! warm with breathing
life, yet spiritual as angels, hover around him; Elysian
landscapes are in the distance; but ever arresting his
steps,—cold and spectral in his path,—stretches forth the
rude hand of Reality. Is it surprising that the petty
miseries of life weigh down his spirit? Yet the trembling
magnet does not seek the north with more unerring fidelity
than that “soft sentient thing,” the artist's heart, still
directs itself amid every calamity, and in every situation, towards
its cynosure—perfection of the beautiful. The law
which guides the planets attracts the one; the other is
influenced by the Divine mystery which called the universe
itself into being; that sole attribute of genius—creation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 158 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | | Title: | The sayings of Dr. Bushwhacker, and other learned men | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Sir,” said our learned friend, Dr. Bushwhacker,
“we are indebted to China for the four principal
blessings we enjoy. Tea came from China, the
compass came from China, printing came from China,
and gunpowder came from China—thank God! China,
sir, is an old country, a very old country. There is one
word, sir, we got from China, that is oftener in the
mouths of American people than any other word in the
language. It is cash, sir, cash! That we derive from
the Chinese. It is the name, sir, of the small brass coin
they use, the coin with a square hole in the middle. And
then look at our Franklin; he drew the lightning from
the skies with his kite; but who invented the kite, sir?
The long-tailed Chinaman, sir. Franklin had no invention;
he never would have invented a kite or a printing-press.
But he could use them, sir, to the best possible
advantage, sir; he had no genius, sir, but he had remarkable
talent and industry. Then, sir, we get our umbrella
from China; the first man that carried an umbrella, in
London, in Queen Anne's reign, was followed by a mob.
That is only one hundred and fifty years ago. We get
the art of making porcelain from China. Our ladies must
thank the Celestials for their tea-pots. Queen Elizabeth
never saw a tea-pot in her life. In 1664, the East India
Company bought two pounds two ounces of tea as a present
for his majesty, King Charles the Second. In 1667,
they imported one hundred pounds of tea. Then, sir,
rose the reign of scandal—Queen Scandal, sir! Then,
sir, rose the intolerable race of waspish spinsters who
sting reputations and defame humanity over their dyspeptic
cups. Then, sir, the astringent principle of the
herb was communicated to the heart, and domestic troubles
were brewed and fomented over the tea-table. Then, sir,
the age of chivalry was over, and women grew acrid and
bitter; then, sir, the first temperance society was founded,
and high duties were laid upon wines, and in consequence
they distilled whiskey instead, which made matters a great
deal better, of course; and all the abominations, all the
difficulties of domestic life, all the curses of living in a
country village; the intolerant canvassing of character,
reputation, piety; the nasty, mean, prying spirit; the
uncharitable, defamatory, gossiping, tale bearing, whispering,
unwomanly, unchristianlike behavior of those
who set themselves up for patterns over their vile
decoctions, sir, arose with the introduction of tea.
Yes, sir; when the wine-cup gave place to the tea-cup,
then the devil, sir, reached his culminating point. The
curiosity of Eve was bad enough; but, sir, when Eve's
curiosity becomes sharpened by turgid tonics, and scandal
is added to inquisitiveness, and inuendo supplies the
place of truth, and an imperfect digestion is the pilot
instead of charity; then, sir, we must expect to see human
nature vilified, and levity condemned, and good
fellowship condemned, and all good men, from Washington
down, damned by Miss Tittle, and Miss Tattle,
and the Widow Blackleg, and the whole host of tea-drinking
conspirators against social enjoyment.” Here
Dr. Bushwhacker grew purple with eloquence and indignation.
We ventured to remark that he had spoken of
tea “as a blessing” at first. “Yes, sir,” responded Dr.
Bushwhacker, shaking his bushy head, “that reminds
one of Doctor Pangloss. Yes, sir, it is a blessing, but
like all other blessings it must be used temperately, or
else it is a curse! China, sir,” continued the Doctor,
dropping the oratorical, and taking up the historical,
“China, sir, knows nothing of perspective, but she is
great in pigments. Indian ink, sir, is Chinese, so are vermillion
and indigo; the malleable properties of gold, sir,
were first discovered by this extraordinary people; we
must thank them for our gold leaf. Gold is not a pigment,
but roast pig is, and Charles Lamb says the origin of
roast pig is Chinese; the beautiful fabric we call silk,
sir, came from the Flowery Nation, so did embroidery,
so did the game of chess, so did fans. In fact, sir, it is
difficult to say what we have not derived from the Chinese.
Cotton, sir, is our great staple, but they wove and
spun long staple and short staple, yellow cotton and white
cotton before Columbus sailed out of the port of Palos in
the Santa Maria.” Dear Fredericus: A. Walther writ this in `quaint
old sounding German.' It is done into English by your
friend, My Dear Cozzens:—I had hoped to spend my vacation
in quiet idleness, with a rigorous and religious abstinence
from pen and ink. But I cannot refuse to comply with
the request you urge so eloquently, placing your claim to
my assistance not only on the ground of old friendship,
but also as involving important objects, literary and scientific,
as well as social and commercial; all of them (to
repeat your phrase and Bacon's), “coming home to the
business and bosoms of men.” My dear Editor:—I have been much amused in learning
through the press, as well as from the more sprightly narrative
of your private letter, that such and so very odd claims
and conjectures had been made as to the authorship of
my late hasty letter to you, in proof that the poets and
gentlemen of old Greece and Rome drank as good
champagne as we do. You know very well that the
letter which you published was not originally meant for
the public, and the public have no right at all to inquire
who the author may be; nor, indeed, has the said impertinent
public to inquire into the authorship of any
anonymous article which harms nobody, nor means to do
so. I have not sought concealment in this matter, nor
do I wish notoriety. If any one desires the credit of
the communication, such as it is, he or she is quite welcome
to it until I find leisure to prepare for the press a
collection of my Literary Miscellanies under my own
name. I intend to embody in it an enlarged edition of
this essay on the antiquity of champagne mousseux, with
a regular chain of Greek and Latin authorities defending
and proving all my positions. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 159 | Author: | Cummins
Maria S.
(Maria Susanna)
1827-1866 | Add | | | Title: | El Fureidîs | | | | 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: | The sun was setting over that far-famed Eastern land,
which, when the Most High divided unto the nations their
inheritance, He gave unto his chosen people,—that land
which the leader of Israel's hosts saw from afar, though he
entered not in,—that land immortalized as the paradise of
our earthly parents, the Canaan of a favored race, the birthplace
and the tomb of prophets, the scene of Jehovah's
mightiest works, the cherished spot whence the dayspring
from on high has visited us, the blessed soil which the
feet of the Prince of Peace have trod. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 160 | Author: | Curtis
George William
1824-1892 | Add | | | Title: | The Potiphar papers | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It is surely unnecessary to call the attention
of so astute an observer, and so austere a critic,
as yourself, to the fact that the title of the leading
essay in this little volume (of which, permit
me to say, you are so essential an ornament) is
marked as a quotation; and a quotation, as you
will very well remember, from the lips of our
friend, Mrs. Potiphar, herself. If gilt were only gold, or sugar-candy common
sense, what a fine thing our society would
be! If to lavish money upon objets de vertu,
to wear the most costly dresses, and always to
have them cut in the height of the fashion; to
build houses thirty feet broad, as if they were
palaces; to furnish them with all the luxurious
devices of Parisian genius; to give superb banquets,
at which your guests laugh, and which
make you miserable; to drive a fine carriage
and ape European liveries, and crests, and coats-of-arms;
to resent the friendly advances of your
baker's wife, and the lady of your butcher (you
being yourself a cobbler's daughter); to talk
much of the “old families” and of your aristocratic
foreign friends; to despise labour; to
prate of “good society;” to travesty and parody,
in every conceivable way, a society which we
know only in books and by the superficial
observation of foreign travel, which arises out
of a social organization entirely unknown to us,
and which is opposed to our fundamental and
essential principles; if all this were fine, what
a prodigiously fine society would ours be! My dear Caroline,—Lent came so frightfully
early this year, that I was very much afraid
my new bonnet à l'Impératrice would not be out
from Paris soon enough. But fortunately it arrived
just in time, and I had the satisfaction
of taking down the pride of Mrs. Crœsus, who
fancied hers would be the only stylish hat in
church the first Sunday. She could not keep
her eyes away from me, and I sat so unmoved,
and so calmly looking at the Doctor, that she
was quite vexed. But, whenever she turned
away, I ran my eyes over the whole congregation,
and would you believe that, almost without
an exception, people had their old things?
However, I suppose they forgot how soon Lent
was coming. As I was passing out of church,
Mrs. Croesus brushed by me: It certainly is not papa's fault that he doesn't
understand French; but he ought not to pretend
to. It does put one in such uncomfortable situations
occasionally. In fact, I think it would be
quite as well if we could sometimes “sink the
paternal,” as Timon Crœsus says. I suppose
every body has heard of the awful speech pa
made in the parlor at Saratoga. My dearest
friend, Tabby Dormouse, told me she had heard
of it every where, and that it was ten times as
absurd each time it was repeated. By the by,
Tabby is a dear creature, isn't she? It's so nice
to have a spy in the enemy's camp, as it were,
and to hear every thing that every body says
about you. She is not handsome,—poor, dear
Tabby! There's no denying it, but she can't
help it. I was obliged to tell young Downe so,
quite decidedly, for I really think he had an
idea she was good-looking. The idea of Tabby
Dormouse being handsome! But she is a useful
little thing in her way; one of my intimates. My Dear Mrs. Downe,—Here we are at last!
I can hardly believe it. Our coming was so sudden
that it seems like a delightful dream. You
know at Mrs. Potiphar's supper last August in
Newport, she was piqued by Gauche Boosey's
saying, in his smiling, sarcastic way: I hear and obey. You said to me, Go, and I
went. You now say, come, and I am coming,
with the readiness that befis a slave, and the
cheerfulness that marks the philosopher. I am very anxious that you should allow me
to receive your son Frederic as a pupil, at my
parsonage, here in the country. I have not lived
in the city without knowing something about
it, despite my cloth, and I am concerned at the
peril to which every young man is there exposed.
There is a proud philosophy in vogue
that every thing that can be injured had better
be destroyed as rapidly as possible, and put out
of the way at once. But I recall a deeper and
tenderer wisdom which declared, “A bruised
reed will he not break.” The world is not
made for the prosperous alone, nor for the
strong. We may wince at the truth, but we
must at length believe it,—that the poor in
spirit, and the poor in will, and the poor in
success, are appointed as pensioners upon our
care. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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