| | 281 | Author: | Willis
Nathaniel Parker
1806-1867 | Add | | | Title: | People I have met, or, Pictures of society and people of mark, drawn under a thin veil of fiction  | | | | 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 death of a lady, in a foreign land, leaves me at liberty to
narrate the circumstances which follow. “My dear Lord: In the belief that a frank communication
would be best under the circumstances, I wish to make an inquiry,
prefacing it with the assurance that my only hope of happiness
has been for some time staked upon the successful issue of my
suit for your daughter's hand. It is commonly understood, I
believe, that the bulk of your lordship's fortune is separate from
the entail, and may be disposed of at your pleasure. May I
inquire its amount, or rather, may I ask what fortune goes with
the hand of Lady Angelica. The Beauchief estates are unfortunately
much embarrassed, and my own debts (I may frankly
confess) are very considerable. You will at once see, my lord,
that, in justice to your daughter, as well as to myself, I could not
do otherwise than make this frank inquiry before pushing my suit
to extremity. Begging your indulgence and an immediate answer,
I remain, my dear lord, yours very faithfully, “Dear Lord Frederick: I trust you will not accuse me of
a want of candor in declining a direct answer to your question.
Though I freely own to a friendly wish for your success in your
efforts to engage the affections of Lady Angelica, with a view to
marriage, it can only be in the irrevocable process of a marriage
settlement that her situation, as to the probable disposal of my
fortune, can be disclosed. I may admit to you, however, that
upon the events of this day on which you have written, (it so
chances,) may depend the question whether I should encourage
you to pursue further your addresses to Lady Angelica. A letter from Lord Aymar to Lady Angelica will put the story
forward a little: “Dear Count: You will wonder at receiving a friendly note
from me, after my refusal, two months since, to meet you over
`pistols and coffee;' but reparation may not be too late, and this
is to say, that you have your choice between two modes of settlement,
viz:—to accept for your stable the hunter you stole from
me (vide police report) and allow me to take a glass of wine with
you at my own table and bury the hatchet, or, to shoot at me if
you like, according to your original design. Mynners and Beauchief
hope you will select the latter, as they owe you a grudge for
the possession of your incomparable bride and her fortune; but I
trust you will prefer the horse, which (if I am rightly informed)
bore you to the declaration of love at Chasteney. Reply to
Crockford's. “My dear St. Leger: Enclosed you have the only surviving
lock of my grizzled wig—sign and symbol that my disguises are
over and my object attained. The wig burns at this instant in
the grate, item my hand-ruffles, item sundry embroidered cravats
3
â la veille cour, item (this last not without some trouble at my
heart) a solitary love-token from Constantia Hervey. One faded
rose—given me at Pæstum, the day before I was driven disgraced
from her presence by the interference of this insolent fool—one
faded rose has crisped and faded into smoke with the rest. And
so fled from the world the last hope of a warm and passionate
heart, which never gave up its destiny till now—never felt that
it was made in vain, guarded, refined, cherished in vain, till that
long-loved flower lay in ashes. I am accustomed to strip emotion
of its drapery—determined to feel nothing but what is real—yet
this moment, turn it and strip it, and deny its illusions as I will,
is anguish. `Self-inflicted,' you smile and say! “I have followed up to this hour, my fair cousin, in the path
you have marked out for me. It has brought me back, in this
chamber, to the point from which I started under your guidance,
and if it had brought me back unchanged—if it restored me my
energy, my hope, and my prospect of fame, I should pray Heaven
that it would also give me back my love, and be content—
more than content, if it gave me back also my poverty. The
sight of my easel, and of the surroundings of my boyish dreams
of glory, have made my heart bitter. They have given form and
voice to a vague unhappiness, which has haunted me through all
these absent years—years of degrading pursuits and wasted
powers—and it now impels me from you, kind and lovely as you
are, with an aversion I can not control. I cannot forgive you.
You have thwarted my destiny. You have extinguished with
sordid cares a lamp within me, that might, by this time, have
shone through the world. And what am I, since your wishes are
accomplished? Euriched in pocket, and bankrupt in happiness
and self-respect. Dined with F—, the artist, at a trattoria. F— is a man of
genius, very adventurous and imaginative in his art, but never
caring to show the least touch of these qualities in his conversation.
His pictures have given him great vogue and consideration
at Rome, so that his daily experience furnishes staple enough for
his evening's chit-chat, and he seems, of course, to be always
talking of himself. He is very generally set down as an egotist.
His impulse to talk, however, springs from no wish for self-glorification,
but rather from an indolent aptness to lay hands on
the readiest and most familiar topic, and that is a kind of egotism
to which I have very little objection—particularly with the mind
fatigued, as it commonly is in Rome, by a long day's study of
works of art. “Baron: Before taking the usual notice of the occurrence of
this morning, I wish to rectify one or two points in which our
position is false. I find myself, since last night, the accepted
lover of Lady Imogen Ravelgold, and the master of estates and
title as a Count of the Russian empire. Under the etourdissement
of such sudden changes in feelings and fortune, perhaps my forgetfulness
of the lady, in whose cause you are so interested, admits
of indulgence. At any rate, I am so newly in love with
life, that I am willing to suppose, for an hour, that had you known
these circumstances, you would have taken a different view of the
offence in question. I shall remain at home till two, and it is in
your power till then to make me the reparation necessary to
my honor. Yours, etc., “Dear Sir: My wife wishes me to write to you, and inform
you of her marriage, which took place a week or two since, and of
which she presumes you are not aware. She remarked to me,
that you thought her looking unhappy last evening, when you
chanced to see her at the play. As she seemed to regret not
being able to answer your note herself, I may perhaps convey the
proper apology by taking upon myself to mention to you, that, in
consequence of eating an imprudent quantity of unripe fruit, she
felt ill before going to the theatre, and was obliged to leave early.
To day she seems seriously indisposed. I trust she will be well
enough to see you in a day or two—and remain, “My Dear Tremlet,—In the two days that I have exiled
you from my presence, I have exiled my happiness also—as you
well know without my confessing—but I needed to sleep and wake
more than once upon your welcome but unexpected avowal. I
fear, indeed, that I need much more time, and that reflection
would scarce justify what I am now about to write to you. But
my life, hitherto, has been such a succession of heart-chilled waitings
upon Reason, that, for once, while I have the power, I am
tempted to bound away with Impulse, after happiness. “I promised to return to you when I should resemble my picture.
It is possible that exile from your presence has marred
more beauty than mental culture has developed—but the soul
you drew in portrait has, at least found its way to my features—
for the world acknowledges what you alone read prophetically at
Leipsic. I have kept myself advised of your movements, with a
woman's anxiety. You are still toiling at the art which made us
acquainted, and, (thank God!) unmarried. To-night, at the
concert of the Countess Isny-Frere, I shall sing to you, for I
have taken pains to know that you will be there. Do not speak
to me till you can see me alone—but hear me in my art before
I abandon myself to the joy long deferred, of throwing myself
at your feet with the fortune and fame it is now mine to offer
you. “`Dear Miss Blidgims: Feeling quite indisposed myself, and
being firmly persuaded that we are three cases of cholera, I have
taken advantage of a return calesino to hurry on to Modena for
medical advice. The vehicle I take brought hither a sister of
charity, who assures me she will wait on you, even in the most
malignant stage of your disease. She is collecting funds for a
hospital, and will receive compensation for her services in the
form of a donation to this object. I shall send you a physician
by express from Modena, where it is still possible we may meet.
With prayers, &c. &c. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 282 | Author: | Woodworth
Samuel
1784-1842 | Add | | | Title: | The champions of freedom, or The mysterious chief | | | | 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: | AMONG the early champions of American
freedom, few, perhaps, bore arms with more
honor to themselves or success to the glorious
cause, than Major Willoughby. He was the only
son of the most opulent farmer in the state of
Massachusetts, who designed his son for the
study and practice of the law. But while he was
preparing for an admittance into Harvard University,
the plains of Lexington were wet with
the blood of his countrymen. “My Son—I have strange things to tell you—
events that will excite your “special wonder,”
and which may almost cause you to doubt the
veracity of your father. Attend, therefore, while
I relate a series of facts as extraordinary as any
that ever figured in romance, either ancient or
modern. “The plot thickens—war is inevitable—
and the folly or madness of democracy fully established.
The vassals of Bonaparte in the house
of representatives, have agreed to enlist these
States under the banners of the tyrant against
England; there can be no doubt of the senate's
concurrence—war will be declared in a few days
—Detroit is the sally-port—look to Sandwich,
and expect further particulars as soon as they
transpire. “I have, my brave but unfortunate boy, written
several letters, and directed them to you at
different military posts in Canada; but know not
whether either of them has been fortunate enough
to reach you. Mr. Fleming, who departs for
Buffalo to-morrow morning, expects to meet a
young Irish prisoner there, to whom he can safely
confide this letter—he being the son of Fleming's
particular friend. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 283 | Author: | Woodworth
Samuel
1784-1842 | Add | | | Title: | The champions of freedom, or The mysterious chief | | | | 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 rocky precipice which now sheltered
these few “hardy gleanings” of so many desperate
fights, was within a few paces of the river's
margin; but not a boat was there to receive them.
In this extremely painful situation they remained
many minutes, when they found themselves suddenly
surrounded by more than five times their
number; and knowing that a further resistance
would produce an useless effusion of blood, they
reluctantly complied with their leader's advice,
who sighed in the performance of what had now
become a necessary duty, for the prevention of a
greater sacrifice. They threw down their arms
in sullen despondency, which Scott, with a graceful
dignity peculiar to himself, tendered his sword
to his more fortunate opponent. “Your last, my son, is now before me, and
every sentence yields me pleasure, except that in
which you mention Amelia's fears on my account.
Assure her from me, that the moment any real
cause of alarm presents itself, I shall not be backward
in providing for the safety of myself and
those under my protection. It grieves me that
she should make herself unhappy in anticipating
evils that may never arrive. Let me intreat her,
through you, to banish every fear for the safety
of her father, and repose her trust in that merciful
Being who, in the operations of his providence,
never permits an evil to take place but for
the ultimate good of his creatures; and it is our
duty to submit without a murmur. I do not wish
it to be understood that the ordinary human
means of shunning an impending danger are to
be neglected: so far from it, I should conceive
that I was tempting the Almighty, to remain in a
place of danger, when I could retreat consistently
with duty. I repeat, that I will remove from
Mulberry-Grove the moment I apprehend any
27*
danger from staying. Were it a tenable fortress,
the case would be different. Let this assurance
restore peace to the bosom of my child. “Sir—I have the honor to inform you, that on
the 25th inst. being in the lat. 29 N. long. 29, 30,
W. we fell in with, and, after an action of an hour
and an half, captured his Britannic Majesty's ship
Macedonian, commanded by captain John Carden,
and mounting forty-nine carriage guns (the
odd gun shifting.) She is a frigate of the largest
class, two years old, four months out of dock, and
reputed one of the best sailors in the British service.
The enemy being to windward, had the
advantage of engaging us at his own distance,
which was so great, that for the first half hour we
did not use our carronades, and at no moment
was he within the complete effect of our musketry
and grape—to this circumstance and a heavy
swell, which was on at the time, I ascribe the
unusual length of the action. “Yours of the fifteenth December came
duly to hand, and has yielded me indescribable
pleasure. The unparalleled achievements of
our gallant sailors, must convince every man, not
blinded by prejudice, of the importance of a respectable
naval establishment. This is a point
to which the strength and resources of our country
can be directed with advantage—with honor—
with complete success. Congress will become
convinced of this without a very long study in
that dear school you speak of. “I hasten, my dear brother, to furnish an antidote
to the melancholy which the writing of your
last must have occasioned. “Another Naval Victory, my dear George,
has rewarded the courage and enterprise of American
sailors, and the name of Lawrence is now
inscribed with those of Hull, Decatur, Jones, and
Bainbridge, on an imperishable pillar of glory. “We are now standing on and off the harbor
of York, which we shall attack at day-light in
the morning. I shall dedicate these last moments
to you, my love, and to-morrow throw all other
ideas but my country to the winds. As yet I
know not if general Dearborn lands; he has acted
honorably so far, and I feel great gratitude to
the old gentleman: my sword and pen shall both
be exerted to do him honor. I have no new injunction—no
new charge to give you; nor any
new idea to communicate; yet we love to commune
with those we love, more especially when
we conceive it may be the last time in this world.
Should I fall, defend my memory: and only believe,
had I lived, I would have aspired to deeds
worthy of your husband. Remember me with a
father's love—a father's care, to our dear daughter,
and believe me to be, with the warmest sentiments
of love and friendship, your “Sir—Pity alone has prompted me to take
this method of relieving an embarrassment which
must not only be very painful to your feelings,
but which (judging from what I this day witnessed)
will so impede the performance of your professional
duties, as to endanger your reputation.
But, sir, you may discard all apprehensions from
your mind—I shall never molest you. You know
the word of George Washington Willoughby is
sacred—it was never yet violated—I shall not
condescend to chastise a being whose meanness has
sunk him so far below my resentment. I know
what you might reasonably expect from many of
our young officers, were they placed in my situation.
But it is well known to you that my notions
of honor are altogether different. You have never
injured me, because—it was not in your power.
But even if your despicable attempts had succeeded—had
you robbed me of my greatest
earthly treasure, your blood would no more tend
to wash away the injury, than that which daily
flows in the meanest butcher's shambles. Entertain
no fears, then, for your life; I shall never
seek to deprive you of a gem so tarnished with
corruption, and yet, so dear to its possessor. “Call all your native fortitude to your aid, my
son, for the intelligence I have to communicate
is afflicting. Catharine Fleming is safe under
my protection—would I could say she was well.
Her amiable mother has joined the rest of her
unfortunate family in a better world. Fleming
is a prisoner of war, and their house is in ashes.
Mulberry Grove exhibits nothing but a black
heap of smoking ruins. “First recover that—
and then thou shalt hear further.” “I am happy, my dear boy, to inform you, that
by a courier, who is travelling express from Harrison's
head-quarters to Erie, I have received a
letter from Fleming, written on board an English
gun-boat in Sandusky Bay, just preparing to sail
for Malden. He is anxious to learn the fate of his
family, and fears the worst. Catharine herself
has undertaken to relieve this suspense, by writing
immediately, and as flags are frequently passing
between the two armies, there will be no difficulty
attending its conveyance, except the customary
inspection of its contents, which is of no
consequence. I am sensible of Harrison's disposition
to oblige me, and he has promised to exert
his influence in procuring Fleming's release.
May the choicest blessings of Heaven rest upon
the hero's head. “We arrived at this place on the evening of
the thirteenth instant. By a pilot-boat, which was
sent out for observation, a British sail was discovered
at anchor near one of the islands, and
the signal for chase was immediately made. By
dark, we were almost within gunshot of the enemy;
one hour more of day light, and she would
have been captured. A very severe storm came
on, and for fear of getting the squadron separated,
we anchored for the night. Captain Richardson
has gone on shore to proceed to Harrison's head-quarters
at Seneca, and accompany the general
down to the fleet. General Clay, the commandant
at Fort Meigs, has received orders from Harrison
to reduce the compass of that fort in such a
manner as to enable three hundred men to hold
it, and then march with the balance of his force to
42
head-quarters, at Seneca. Preparations are accordingly
making to convey the stores, ammunition,
and cannon, to Cleveland and Seneca, which
it will take about ten days to accomplish. After
these arrangements are completed, a force of five
thousand troops, regulars and militia, will embark
on board this squadron, and be conveyed to Malden,
where Harrison will retrieve all that Hull
lost. Previous to the embarkation, however, you
may expect to hear that we are masters of the
lake. “The last eastern mail has brought us the welcome
news of Another Naval Victory, the particulars
of which I will relate as far as they have
been made public, before I descend to local and
domestic subjects. “You was right, my dear Willoughby—“Revenge
will not remedy the evil.” British blood
has flowed in torrents, and still I am the last remaining
twig on our family tree; nor can all the
blood that flows in English veins, resuscitate the
other branches, or restore my lost happiness.
We have had a battle, and hundreds of Englishmen
are laid low—many of them beneath the waters
of Erie. The survivors are our prisoners,
and I have conversed with many of them who
would willingly die for their country, but who
loudly condemn the conduct of those ministers
whose ambition has plunged them into a war
with their brethren. It is the blood of such men,
the blood of our brethren, that has so lavishly
crimsoned the waves of this lake, and their
blood will cry for vengeance on those ambitious
wretches who guide the counsels of England.
You was right—these men, whom I have been so
eager to destroy, do `commiserate my sufferings,
and denounce the authors of them.' Every
English groan that has saluted my ears since the
battle, has caused me to confess—`that was not
the voice which decreed my brother's death; that
man had no hand in dragging me on board a
British ship; he never employed an Indian to
murder my sister; why then should I rejoice at
his sufferings?' I do not; I am a convert to your
doctrine, and my present tenderness to those poor
wounded men who are placed under my care,
shall in some measure atone for my former error. “Good news, my dear Willoughby! Detroit,
Sandwich, Malden—all that Hull and you lost,
and all that you might have taken—is now in possession
of the Americans. Tecumseh is slain,
Proctor fled, and the British army captured, with
all their camp equipage and their leader's private
baggage. Harrison is the hero who has achieved
all this, by the valor of the brave troops under his
command. I have just conversed with an officer
who served as a volunteer in this brilliant affair,
and he has furnished me with the following particulars: “Be not alarmed, my daughter, that this letter
is not written by your father's hand. That hand
is, alas! too much enfeebled by disease to hold
a pen; I have, therefore, employed that of my
most excellent friend, captain Miller, who has
generously offered to make a journey to Ithaca
for the sole purpose of conveying to you the last
injunctions and blessing of your affectionate father.” “Adieu, my dearest, best friend—adieu, until
we meet in that world where parting will be no
more. I should feel guilty of an unpardonable
neglect, did I longer delay to inform you that I
am rapidly sinking beneath the iron hand of affliction.
Grief for the loss of my parents has
made such havoc with my constitution, that my
health I fear can never be again restored. I shall
never cease to love you—no, not even in heaven;
next to my Saviour's, your image will be the object
which I shall contemplate with the greatest
delight, through the boundless ages of eternity.
My greatest earthly comfort is the perusal of your
affectionate epistles—this is the first I have ever
written to you—it will be the last you must ever
expect—preserve it as a legacy of my affection.
I will not conceal—for why should I?—that your
presence would soothe my dying hour, and
that the transition would be sweet from your
arms to those of my attendant angels, who are
waiting to receive me. But I will not drag you
from those higher duties to which you are called
by your God and your country. Continue to
serve both faithfully, and you will one day be
again restored to your ever faithful “It is my good fortune, my dear sir, to announce
that I have for the second time, witnessed
the glorious sight of a whole British fleet surrendering
to the superior skill and bravery of American
seamen. Our gallant commodore, M`Donough,
will now vie with Perry, while the name of
M`Comb will be coupled with those of Harrison,
Brown, Scott, Boyd, Ripley, Porter, &c. The
eleventh of September will also shine as bright on
the page of history, as the tenth. But I will descend
to particulars. “Heaven be praised for all its mercies! Catharine
is safe! Yes, my dear sir, my poor niece is
alive—well—among friends—uninjured—happy,
as she can be while separated from us. The inclosed
will tell you all—it is from my son, who is
in New-Orleans, where he has just taken a wife.
Read it, and then join with me in adoring that
Being whose `judgments are unsearchable, and
whose ways are past finding out.' “Be happy, my dear mother, for I have good
news to communicate. Our cousin Catharine
Fleming is safe under my protection—the same
innocent happy being, as when we were romping
together at Ithaca. Pause, while you freely indulge
the rapturous tears of joy, and then proceed
to particulars. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 285 | Author: | Brackenridge
H. H.
(Hugh Henry)
1748-1816 | Add | | | Title: | Modern chivalry | | | | 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: | JOHN FARRAGO, was a man of about
fifty-three years of age, of good natural
sense, and considerable reading; but in
some things whimsical, owing perhaps to
his greater knowledge of books than of the
world; but, in some degree, also, to his
having never married, being what they call
an old batchelor, a characteristic of which
is, usually, singularity and whim. He had
the advantage of having had in early life,
an academic education; but having never
applied himself to any of the learned professions,
he had lived the greater part of his
life on a small farm, which he cultivated
with servants or hired hands, as he could
conveniently supply himself with either.
The servant that he had at this time, was
an Irishman, whose name was Teague
Oregan. I shall say nothing of the character
of this man, because the very name imports
what he was. I have two objections to this duel
matter. The one is, lest I should hurt
you; and the other is, lest you should
hurt me. I do not see any good it would
do me to put a bullet through any part
of your body. I could make no use of
you when dead, for any culinary purpose,
as I would a rabbit or a turkey. I am
no cannibal to feed on the flesh of men.
Why then shoot down a human creature,
of which I could make no use. A buffalo
would be better meat. For though your
flesh might be delicate and tender; yet it
wants that firmness and consistency which
takes and retains salt. At any rate it would
not be fit for long sea voyages. You might
make a good barbecue, it is true, being of
the nature of a racoon or an opossum;
I
but people are not in the habit of barbecuing
any thing human now. As to your
hide, it is not worth the taking off, being
little better than that of a year old colt. “Know all men by these presents, that
I Teague O'Regan, Major, am held and
firmly bound unto John Hardicknute, in
the sum of one hundred pounds, money
of the United States, well and truly to be
paid to him the said John, his heirs, executors,
administators, or assigns. Given
under my hand and seal this second day of
June, in the year of our Lord one thousand
seven hundred and ninety-one. Would wish to have the pleasure of
Major O'Regan's company this evening at
tea. Lawyer Crabtree and Doctor Drug
will be here; and you know we shall split
our sides laughing at the ninnies. You're
so full of your jokes that I want you here.
Dear Major, don't be engaged; but come. You will instantly do one of two things,
either relinquish your attention to Miss
Muslin, and be no more in her company;
or meet me this evening precisely at six
o'clock, on the commons the back of the
Potter's-field, with a brace of pistols, and
a second, to take a shot. I shall have a
coffin ready, and a grave dug, for which
ever of us shall have occasion to make use
of it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 290 | Author: | Kirkland
Caroline M.
(Caroline Matilda)
1801-1864 | Add | | | 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 |
| 291 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The Dutchman's fireside | | | | 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 | Harper's library of select novels | harpers library of select novels | | | | Description: | “Somewhere about the time of the old French
war,” there resided on the rich border that skirts the
Hudson, not a hundred miles from the good city of
Albany, a family of some distinction, which we shall
call Vancour, consisting of three brothers whose names
were Egbert, Dennis, and Ariel, or Auriel as it was
pronounced by the Dutch of that day. They were
the sons of one of the earliest as well as most respectable
of the emigrants from Holland, and honourably
sustained the dignity of their ancestry, by
sturdy integrity, liberal hospitality, and a generous
public spirit. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 292 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The Dutchman's fireside | | | | 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 | Harper's library of select novels | harpers library of select novels | | | | Description: | Much has been sung and written of the charms
of the glorious Hudson—its smiling villages, its noble
cities, its magnificent banks, and its majestic waters.
The inimitable Knickerbocker, the graphic Cooper,
and a thousand less celebrated writers and tourists
have delighted to luxuriate in descriptions of its rich
fields, its flowery meadows, whispering groves, and
cloud-capped mountains, until its name is become
synonymous with all the beautiful and sublime of
nature. Associated as are these beauties with our
earliest recollections, and nearest, dearest friends
—entwined as they inseparably are with memorials
of the past, anticipations of the future, we too would
offer our humble tribute. But the theme has been
exhausted by hands that snatched the pencil from
nature herself, and nothing is left for us but to repress
the feelings of our swelling hearts by silent musings. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 293 | Author: | Poe
Edgar Allan
1809-1849 | Add | | | Title: | Tales | | | | 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: | Many years ago, I contracted an intimacy with a Mr. William
Legrand. He was of an ancient Huguenot family, and had once
been wealthy; but a series of misfortunes had reduced him to
want. To avoid the mortification consequent upon his disasters,
he left New Orleans, the city of his forefathers, and took up his
residence at Sullivan's Island, near Charleston, South Carolina. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 295 | Author: | Melville
Herman
1819-1891 | Add | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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