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181Author:  Flint Timothy 1780-1840Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Shoshonee Valley  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The Shoshonee are a numerous and powerful tribe of Indians, who dwell in a long and narrow vale of unparalleled wildness and beauty of scenery, between the two last western ridges of the Rocky Mountains, on the south side of the Oregon, or as the inhabitants of the United States choose to call it, the Columbia. They are a tall, finely formed, and comparatively fair haired race, more mild in manners, more polished and advanced in civilization, and more conversant with the arts of municipal life, than the contiguous northern tribes. Vague accounts of them by wandering savages, hunters, and coureurs du bois, have been the sources, most probably, whence have been formed the western fables, touching the existence of a nation in this region, descended from the Welsh. In fact many of the females, unexposed by their condition to the sun and inclemencies of the seasons, are almost as fair, as the whites. The contributions, which the nation has often levied from their neighbors the Spaniards, have introduced money and factitious wants, and a consequent impulse to build after the fashions, to dress in the clothes, and to live after the modes of civilized people, among them. From them they have obtained either by barter or war, cattle, horses, mules, and the other domestic animals, in abundance. Maize, squashes, melons and beans they supposed they had received as direct gifts from the Wah-condah, or Master of Life. The cultivation of these, and their various exotic exuberant vegetables, they had acquired from surveying the modes of Spanish industry and subsistence. Other approximations to civilization they had unconsciously adopted from numerous Spanish captives, residing among them, in a relation peculiar to the red people, and intermediate between citizenship and slavery. But the creole Spanish, from whom they had these incipient germs of civilized life, were themselves a simple and pastoral people, a century behind the Anglo Americans in modern advancement. The Shoshonee were, therefore, in a most interesting stage of existence, just emerging from their own comparative advancements to a new condition, modelled to the fashion of their Spanish neighbors.
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182Author:  Foster Hannah Webster 1759-1840Requires cookie*
 Title:  The coquette, or, The history of Eliza Wharton : a novel, founded on fact  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: An unusual sensation possesses my breast; a sensation, which I once thought could never pervade it on any occasion whatever. It is pleasure; pleasure, my dear Lucy, on leaving my paternal roof! Could you have believed that the darling child of an indulgent and dearly beloved mother would feel a gleam of joy at leaving her? but so it is. The melancholy, the gloom, the condolence, which surrounded me for a month after the death of Mr. Haly, had depressed my spirits, and palled every enjoyment of life. Mr. Haly was a man of worth; a man of real and substantial merit. He is therefore deeply, and justly regreted by his friends; he was chosen to be a future guardian, and companion for me, and was, therefore, beloved by mine. As their choice; as a good man, and a faithful friend, I esteemed him. But no one acquainted with the disparity of our tempers and dispositions, our views and designs, can suppose my heart much engaged in the alliance. Both nature and education had instilled into my mind an implicit obedience to the will and desires of my parents. To them, of course, I sacrificed my fancy in this affair; determined that my reason should coucur with theirs; and on that to risk my future happiness. I was the more encouraged, as I saw, from our first acquaintance, his declining health; and expected, that the event would prove as it has. Think not, however, that I rejoice in his death. No; far be it from me; for though I believe that I never felt the passion of love for Mr. Haly; yet a habit of conversing with him, of hearing daily the most virtuous, tender, and affectionate sentiments from his lips, inspired emotions of the sincerest friendship, and esteem.
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183Author:  Hale Sarah Josepha Buell 1788-1879Requires cookie*
 Title:  Keeping house and house keeping  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “My dear,” said Mrs. Harley to her husband one morning, “I have been thinking we had better make a change in our domestic department. Nancy, I find, is getting quite impertinent; she wants to go out one afternoon every week, and that, in addition to her nightly meetings, is quite too much. Shall I settle with her to-day and dismiss her?” “My dear William—Your earthly treasures (that is, little John and myself) are running wild in these Elysian fields. Escaped from the din and tumult of the ctiy, it is so reviving to breathe the pure air of this healthful region, that the principal part of my conversation is to tell all the kind people whom I see here how delighted I am with the change, and how happy they must be who enjoy it all the time; to which Aunt Ruth generally replies, `Those who make the change are the people who are alive to its benefits; while those who always live amid such beauty become indifferent spectators.' “Dear Husband—When I last wrote, the full tide of happiness seemed flowing in upon me on every side; but alas! the change. Johnny, the day after I wrote you, was taken ill, and has continued so ever since. His disease the doctor pronounces to be the scarlet fever. To-day he is a little better; and while he is sleeping, I have taken my writing-desk to his bedside, that I may be ready to note any alteration. “Afternoon “Dear Aunt—You very good-naturedly ask me how I like the change from my former mode of living. I will frankly tell you, that it scarcely admits a comparison. I blush to recall my former imbecility, and often wonder at the long suffering of my friends, and of William in particular—that he should chide so little when he felt so much!
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184Author:  Hale Sarah Josepha Buell 1788-1879Requires cookie*
 Title:  "Boarding out"  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “What ails you, my dear?” inquired Robert Barclay of his wife, as she sat thoughtfully, twirling her tea-cup. “You seem, of late, very uninterested in my conversation. Has any thing gone wrong with you to-day?” “Our plans are all arranged. Little did I think, when we conversed together upon the subject of my giving up housekeeping, I should so soon carry into effect your plan. I call it yours, for you first suggested to me the expedient of ridding myself of domestic trials. Mr. Barclay was at first wholly averse to hearing a word about it; but, dear Fanny, I talked hours, yes! days, until he yielded! Was he not a kind husband? I never suggested to him that you were prime mover, lest in future time, if things should not turn out well, you might be reproached. But, cousin, I am wholly unacquainted with the process of `breaking up housekeeping.' I thought we should never get furnished when we moved here; and now I feel as if we never should get things in order for the sale, unless you come immediately and help me. You will therefore stand by me for at least three or four weeks; help me look out a boarding-house, &c. Come in the four o'clock omnibus this afternoon. Truly, “I was just at my writing-desk, dictating a note to be sent to you, as your kind one arrived. Do not think me, Cousin Hepsy, a maniac, ranting in an untrue style, when I tell you I had accepted an invitation to stand as bridemaid to Madam Shortt the very day the announcement of her marriage was made to you! My partner (for I will tell the whole) is Rev. Mr. Milnor, our former clergyman, now of your city, who knew Colonel Bumblefoot many years in England, and many since in America; and, at his urgent request, has consented to stand nearest him during the ceremony! But your exclamations are not over yet. I suppose, at no very distant day, your cousin, Fanny Jones, may sign her name as `Fanny Milnor!' You will please communicate this to your good husband; and if I can be of any service to you again in a chase for a boarding-house, you are welcome to my services.
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185Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Requires cookie*
 Title:  Dermot O'brien; Or, the Taking of Tredagh  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The bright, warm sunshine of a July morning was pouring its full stream of vivifying lustre over a wide expanse of wild, open country, in one of the south-eastern counties of Ireland. For miles and miles over which the eye extended, not a sign of a human habitation, or of man's handiwork, was visible; unless these were to be found in the existence of a long range of young oak woodland, which lay to the north-east, stretching for several miles continuously along the low horizon in that quarter, with something that might have been either a mist-wreath, or a column of blue smoke floating lazily in the pure atmosphere above it. The foreground of this desolate, but lovely landscape, was formed by a wide, brawling stream, which almost merited the name of a river, and which here issuing from an abrupt, rocky cleft or chasm, in the round-headed moorland hills, spread itself out over a broader bed, flowing rapidly in bright whirls and eddies upon a bottom of glittering pebbles, with here and there a great boulder heaving its dark, mossy head above the surface, and hundreds of silver-sided, yellow-finned trouts, flashing up like meteors from the depths, and breaking the smooth ripples in pursuit of their insect prey.
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186Author:  Melville Herman 1819-1891Requires cookie*
 Title:  Omoo  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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187Author:  Smith Seba 1792-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  John Smith's Letters, with 'picters' to Match  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Dear Father—I take my pen in hand to let you know that I'm as hearty as a bear, and hope these few lines will find you, and mother, and grandfather, and cousin Debby, and all the children, enjoying the same blessing. We stood our march remarkable well, and are all alive, and safe, and sound as a whistle. And Sargent Johnson makes a most capital officer. He's jest sich a man as is wanted down here—there's no skeering him, I can tell you. He'd fight against bears, and wild-cats, and the British, and thunder and lightnin', and any thing else, that should set out to meddle with our disputed territory. And he's taken a master-liking to me, too, and says if he has any hard fighting to do, although I'm the youngest in the company, he shall always choose me first for his right-hand man. He says I had more pluck at the drafting than any one in the whole company, and he should rather have me by his side in battle, than any three of the rest of'em. But maybe you'd like to hear something about our march down here, and so on. Dear Father—Tell mother I ain't shot yet, though we've had one pretty considerable of a brush, and expect every day to have some more. Colonel Jarvis has took quite a liking to our little Smithville detachment. He says we are the smartest troops he's got, and as long as we stick by him, it isn't Sir John Harvey, nor all New-Brumzick, nor even Queen Victory herself can ever drive him off of Fitzherbert's farm. Perhaps you mayn't remember much about this Fitzherbert's farm, where we are. It is the very place where the British nabbed our Land Agent, Mr. McIntire, when he was abed, and asleep, and couldn't help himself, and carried him off to Frederiction jail. Let 'em come and try to nab us, if they dare; if they wouldn't wish their cake was dough again, I'm mistaken. We've got up pretty considerable of a little kind of a fort here, and we keep it manned day and night—we don't more than half of us sleep to once, and are determined the British shall never ketch us with both eyes shet. Dear Father—We stick by here yet, takin' care of our disputed territory and the logs; and while we stay here the British will have to walk as straight as a hair, you may depend. We ain't had much fighting to do since my last letter; and some how or other, things seem to be getting cooler down here a little, so that I'm afraid we ain't agoing to have the real scratch, after all, that I wanted to have. A day or two arter we took the logging camp and brought the men and oxen off here prisoners of war, we was setting in the fort after dinner and talking matters over, and Sargent Johnson was a wondering what a plague was the reason the British didn't come up to the scratch as they talked on. He said he guessed they wasn't sich mighty fairce fellers for war as they pretended to be, arter all.
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188Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Last of the Mohicans  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Leather-stocking tales | leather stocking tales 
 Description: It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that the toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered, before the adverse hosts could meet in murderous contact. A wide, and, apparently, an impervious boundary of forests, severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who fought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against the rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the mountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more martial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the practised native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty; and it would seem, that in time, there was no recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant monarchs of Europe.
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189Author:  Cooper James Fenimore 1789-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Last of the Mohicans  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Leather-stocking tales | leather stocking tales 
 Description: The bloody and inhuman scene which we have rather incidentally mentioned than described, in the close of the preceding volume, is conspicuous in the pages of colonial history, by the merited title of “The massacre of William Henry.” It so far deepened the stain which a previous and very similar event had left upon the reputation of the French commander, that it was not entirely erased by his early and glorious death. It is now becoming obscured by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm died like a hero on the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much he was deficient in that moral courage, without which no man can be truly great. Pages might be written to prove, from this illustrious example, the defects of human excellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high courtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence beneath the chilling ascendency of mistaken selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who was great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found wanting, when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior to policy. But the task would exceed our fanciful prerogatives; and, as history, like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Véran will be viewed by posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while his cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican, will be forgotten. Deeply regretting this weakness on the part of our sister muse, we shall at once retire from her sacred precincts, within the proper limits of our own humbler vocation.
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190Author:  Hawthorne Nathaniel 1804-1864Requires cookie*
 Title:  Mosses from an Old Manse  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books 
 Description: In the latter part of the last century, there lived a man of science— an eminent proficient in every branch of natural philosophy—who, not long before our story opens, had made experience of a spiritual: affinity, more attractive than any chemical one. He had left his, laboratory to the care of an assistant, cleared his fine countenance from the furnace-smoke, washed the stain of acids from his fingers, and persuaded a beautiful woman to become his wife. In those days, when the comparatively recent discovery of electricity, and other kindred mysteries of nature, seemed to open paths into the region of miracle, it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love of woman, in its depth and absorbing energy. The higher intellect, the imagination, the spirit, and even the heart, might all-find their congenial aliment in pursuits which, as some of their ardent votaries believed, would ascend from one step of powerful intelligence to another, until the philosopher should lay his hand on the secret of creative force, and perhaps make new worlds for himself. We know not whether Aylmer possessed this degree of faith in man's ultimate control over nature. He had devoted himself, however, too unreservedly to scientific studies, ever to be weaned from them by any second passion. His love for his young wife might prove the stronger of the two; but it could only be by intertwining itself with his love of science, and uniting the strength of the latter to its own.
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191Author:  Hawthorne Nathaniel 1804-1864Requires cookie*
 Title:  Mosses from an Old Manse  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books 
 Description: We, who are born into the world's artificial system, can never adequately know how little in our present state and circumstances is natural, and how much is merely the interpolation of the perverted mind and heart of man. Art has become a second and stronger Nature; she is a step-mother, whose crafty tenderness has taught us to despise the bountiful and wholesome ministrations of our true parent. It is only through the medium of the imagination that we can lessen those iron fetters, which we call truth and reality, and make ourselves even partially sensible what prisoners we are. For instance, let us conceive good Father Miller's interpretation of the prophecies to have proved true. The Day of Doom has burst upon the globe, and swept away the whole rece of men. From cities and fields, sea-shore, and mid-land mountain region, vast continents, and even the remotest islands of the ocean—each living thing is gone. No breath of a created being disturbs this earthly atmosphere. But the abodes of man, and all that he has accomplished, the foot-prints of his wanderings, and the results of his toil, the visible symbols of his intellectual cultivation, and moral progress—in short, everything physical that can give evidence of his present position—shall remain untouched by the hand of destiny. Then, to inherit and repeople this waste and deserted earth, we will suppose a new Adam and a new Eve to have been created, in the full development of mind and heart, but with no knowledge of their predecessors, nor of the diseased circumstances that had become encrusted around them. Such a pair would at once distinguish between art and nature. Their instincts and intuitions would immediately recognize the wisdom and simplicity of the latter, while the former, with its elaborate perversities, would offer them a continual succession of puzzles.
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192Author:  Hall James 1793-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  The wilderness and the war path  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books 
 Description: The life of the American Indian is not so destitute of the interest created by variety of incident, as might be supposed by a casual observation of the habits of this singular race. It is true that the simple structure of their communities, and the sameness of their occupations, limit the Savage within a narrow sphere of thought and action. Without commerce, agriculture, learning, or the arts, and confined to the employments of war and hunting, the general tenour of his life must be monotonous. His journies through the unpeopled wilderness, furnish him with no information as to the modes of existence of other nations, nor any subjects for reflection, but those which nature supplies, and with which he has been familiar from childhood. Beyond his own tribe, his intercourse extends only to savages as ignorant as himself, and to traders but little elevated above his own moral standard.
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