| | 301 | Author: | Thorpe
Thomas Bangs
1815-1878 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The hive of "The bee-hunter"  | | | | 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: | Originally, the wild turkey was found scattered
throughout the whole of our continent, its habits only
differing, where the peculiarity of the seasons compelled
it to provide against excessive cold or heat. In the
“clearing,” it only lives in its excellent and degenerated
descendant of the farm-yard, but in the vast prairies and
forests of the “far west,” this bird is still abundant,
and makes an important addition to the fare of wild life. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 302 | Author: | Trowbridge
J. T.
(John Townsend)
1827-1916 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The deserted family, or, Wanderings of an outcast | | | | 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 afternoon of a quiet summer's day,
a weary foot traveller turned aside from a dusty
country road, and on the grassy slope of a
pleasant hillside sat down upon the ground.
With a heavy sigh he removed from his brow
a torn and faded straw hat, and brushing back
the moist locks of gray hair that fell upon his
forehead, gazed sadly down into the beautiful
valley before him. “Dearest Cousin: The terrible excitement
of this awful day, the confusion around
me, the smell of murder which invades my
nostrils, the weighty cares on my mind, my
unsteady nerves, and the bruised state of the
tin pan on the bottom of which I write this
letter, must be my apology for the wretched
scrawl I send you. “Adored Alice: How I shall write this
note I know not. The tin pan which served
me as a desk before has been wrested from me
by a barbarous multitude. I am driven to use
a rough board, which I hold upon my knee.
The truth is, I am looked upon as a maniac by
some; others consider me a reporter for the
Gazette and Recorder. My friends shake
their heads doubtfully at my enterprise. But
nothing can daunt me. Write I must, and
will! “Star of my Existence, dearest Cousin:
In the midst of my imperative duties, I snatch
a few minutes from my much-occupied time
to keep you posted up. I have testified — told
the truth — the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth. I feel relieved. I have done my
duty. I have acted — a man! “Meet me to-morrow morning, at ten, in the
spot we have called Shadowland. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 304 | Author: | Phelps
Elizabeth Stuart
1844-1911 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Men, women, and ghosts | | | | 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: | None at all. Understand that, please, to begin
with. That you will at once, and distinctly, recall
Dr. Sharpe — and his wife, I make no doubt. Indeed,
it is because the history is a familiar one, some
of the unfamiliar incidents of which have come into my
possession, that I undertake to tell it. “I have been so lonely since mother died, that my
health, never of the strongest, as you know, has suffered
seriously. My physician tells me that something
is wrong with the periphrastic action, if you know
what that is,” [I suppose Miss Fellows meant the
peristaltic action,] “and prophesies something dreadful,
(I 've forgotten whether it was to be in the head,
or the heart, or the stomach,) if I cannot have change
of air and scene this winter. I should dearly love to
spend some time with you in your new home, (I fancy
it will be drier than the old one,) if convenient to
you. If inconvenient, don't hesitate to say so, of
course. I hope to hear from you soon. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 306 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Rosalie Du Pont, or, Treason in the camp | | | | 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 was on a fine, pleasant morning, toward
the latter part of September, 1780, that a
heavy double knock resounded through the
elegant mansion of Graham Percy, in Queen-street.
The servant who opened the door,
beheld a stranger, dressed in deep black, with
a strongly-marked, deadly-pale countenance,
and small, black, fiery eyes, that seemed capable
of penetrating to his very soul. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 308 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Viola, or, Adventures in the far South-west | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Away! away! away! three cheers
for freedom! and ho for the sunny
South!” “Dear Morton—We meet strangely
—we have from the first—and since I
saw you on the boat at New Orleans, I
have thought there may be such a thing
as a special Providence. Oh, Morton, if
you love me—if you ever loved me—
forsake me not now! Till I saw you
last, despair had for months sat like an
incubus upon my heart. Hope had fled
me, and in vain I labored to lure her
back. She came with you; and since
then has fluttered in sight, but ready to
take wing and leave me forever. You,
Morton, and hope, are so united, that
neither can come alone. Oh, misery!
misery! how well I know the meaning
of the term! What shall I say of the
past? I could pour out my soul to you
in words, were we together; but I can
say nothing on paper. Yet something
I must say. My mother is dead. My
father—oh! that he better deserved the
name!—what shall I say of him? Morton,
to be brief, my father has sold me
to a man I detest, and is now on his
way to deliver me to my purchaser.
In other words, and to speak without
enigma, my father having failed in business,
is resolved to retrieve his fortune
by disposing of my hand to a French
count, who boasts of a distant connection
with Louis Philippe. He is rich,
and owns a country seat somewhere
near the Brazos; but I cannot direct you
to it, nor do I even know the vicinity.
I only know it is called D'Estang Ville.
You may perhaps find it from the name
—that is, should you care to trouble
yourself about it. Thither I am to be
transported; and once there my father
has solemnly sworn I shall become the
wife of D'Estang, or take the alternative
of ending my days in a convent, in the
interior of Mexico. Of the two, my
choice is already made. I will never
wed this count. Morton, my hope is
in you, or death. If you fail me, the
latter may not. I would not die now—
but can I live a life of misery? I have
knelt and prayed to my father to forego
his terrible resolve. In vain. He is
inexorable. Oh! how he has changed
of late! He is another being. Mother
and wealth were his idols. One is
dead—the other lost; and now he would
rebuild his fortunes on the crushed
hopes and broken heart of his only
child. He cannot love me, Morton, and
I have learned to fear him. Could he
have loved my mother? If so, why am
I treated thus? Of M. D'Estang—he
once visited my father in the city of
Mexico. I was then a child—but it
seems he conceived a passion for me
even then, which years have strengthened
rather than weakened. I say passion;
for had he ever loved, he would
not buy me like a slave now. How he
and my father met within a year, and
how one bought and the other sold me,
I cannot tell you now—perhaps I may
when we meet, should God permit us
to meet again on earth. My hand trembles,
and tears dim my eyes. Morton,
dear Morton, I cannot write more. I
have stolen away to do this. Will it
ever reach you? and can you assist me
if it does? Oh, Morton, by the sweet
past! by our then happy hopes of the
future! I conjure you to come to my aid!
But you must come disguised. If seen
and recognised, I verily believe your
life will be taken. It is fearful to think
so, Morton—it is terrible! No more. “I am a prisoner in the tower; secure
the bearers of this; let no one
leave the Ville, on pain of death, and
come instantly to my release. “Let the bearers of this, my particular
friends, be provided with four
good horses, and be permitted to leave
the Ville without question or hindrance. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 309 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Walde-Warren: | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Far up towards the headwaters
of one of the tributaries
of the Cumberland river,
and not many leagues distant
from that portion of the Cumberland
mountains which divides
the state of Tennessee,
there is a wild, beautiful, romantic
valley. This valley
is about three miles in extent,
oval in shape, with the breadth
of a mile and a half in the
centre, closing up at either
end by the peculiar curve of
the hills which environ it, and
leaving just sufficient space
for the passage of the stream
alluded to, and a traveled
road which winds along its
banks and slightly cuts the
southern base of the projecting
eminences. About central
way of this valley, is a quiet,
picturesque village, of neat
white houses, overlooked by
the mountains, and as rural
and sequestered as one could
wish to find. This village occupies
both sides of the
stream, which is spanned by
an arched wooden bridge, beneath
which the waters
sparkle, foam and roar, as
they dash over a rocky bed,
and dart away with the frolic-someness
of youth. In fact
the stream itself may not inappropriately
be likened to a
youth just freed from the
trammels and helplessness
of infancy, when budding
strength begins to give buoyancy,
independence, ambition,
and love of wild adventure;
for, nurtured among the
mountains, and fed to a good
estate, it has burst from the
control of parental nature, and
now comes hopping, skipping
and dancing along, with childish
playfulness—occasionally
sobered for a moment as it
glides past some steep overhanging
cliff, like a youth full
of timid curiosity on entering
a place of deep shadow—but
in the main, wild, merry and
sportive—laughing in the sunshine—rollicking,
gamboling,
purling and roaring—now
playing hide and seek among
the bushes, and now rushing
away, with might and main,
to explore the world that lays
before it, unconscious that
aught of difficulty may lie in
its path. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 310 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Wild Scenes on the Frontiers, Or, Heroes of the West | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | We talk of the ferocity, the vindictiveness, the treachery,
and the cruelty of the native savage; and, painting him
in the darkest colors, tell how, when his hunting grounds
covered the sites of our now proudest cities, he was wont
to steal down upon a few harmless whites, our forefathers,
and butcher them in cold blood, sparing neither sex nor
age, except for a painful captivity, to end perhaps in
the most demoniac tortures; and we dwell upon the
theme, till our little innocent children shudder and creep
close to our sides, and look fearfully around them, and
perhaps wonder how the good God, of whom they have
also heard us speak, could ever have permitted such human
monsters to encumber His fair and beautiful earth. But
do we reverse the medal and show the picture which
impartial Truth has stamped upon the other side—and
which, in a great measure, stands as a cause to the opposite
effect—stands as a cause for savage ferocity, vindictiveness,
treachery and cruelty? Do we tell our young
and eager listeners that the poor Indian, living up to the
light he had, and not unfrequently beyond it, knew no
better than to turn, like the worm when trampled upon,
and bite the foot that crushed him? That we had taken
the land of his father's graves and driven him from his
birthright hunting grounds? That we had stolen his cattle,
robbed him of his food, destroyed his growing fields,
burned his wigwams, and murdered his brothers, fathers,
wives and little ones, besides instigating tribe to war
against tribe—and that, knowing nothing of the Christian
code, to return good for evil, he fulfilled the law of his
nature and education in taking his “great revenge” upon
any of the pale-faced race he should chance to meet? No!
we seldom show this side of the medal—for the natural
inquiry of the innocent listener might contain an unpleasant
rebuke: | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 312 | Author: | Ward
Artemus
1834-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Artemus Ward's panorama | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | YOU are entirely welcome ladies and gentlemen
to my little picture-shop.1
1 “My little picture-shop.”—I have already stated that the
room used was the lesser of the two on the first-floor of the
Egyptian Hall. The panorama was to the left on entering,
and Artemus Ward stood at the south-east corner facing the
door. He had beside him a music-stand, on which for the
first few days he availed himself of the assistance afforded by
a sheet of foolscap on which all his “cues” were written out
in a large hand. The proscenium was covered with dark
cloth, and the picture bounded by a great gilt frame. On the
rostrum behind the lecturer was a little door giving admission
to the space behind the picture where the piano was placed.
Through this door Artemus would disappear occasionally in
the course of the evening, either to instruct his pianist to play
a few more bars of music, to tell his assistants to roll the
picture more quickly or more slowly, or to give some instructions
to the man who worked “the moon.” The little
lecture-room was thronged nightly during the very few
weeks of its being open.
My dear Sir,—My wife was dangerously unwell for over sixteen
years. She was so weak that she could not lift a teaspoon to her mouth.
But in a fortunate moment she commenced reading one of your lectures.
She got better at once. She gained strength so rapidly that she lifted the
cottage piano quite a distance from the floor, and then tipped it over on
to her mother-in-law, with whom she had had some little trouble. We
like your lectures very much. Please send me a barrel of them. If you
should require any more recommendations, you can get any number of
them in this place, at two shillings each, the price I charge for this one,
and I trust you may be ever happy. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 314 | Author: | unknown | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Tales of Glauber-Spa | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | "I am quite delighted with this place, now that I
have got over that bad habit of blushing and trembling,
which Mrs. Asheputtle assures me is highly indecent
and unbecoming. She says it is a sign of a bad conscience
and wicked thoughts, when the blood rushes
into the face. I wish you knew Mrs. Asheputtle. She
has been all over Europe, and seen several kings of the
old dynasties, who, she says, were much more difficult
to come at than the new ones, who are so much afraid of
the canaille, that they are civil to everybody. Only
think, how vulgar. Mrs. Asheputtle says, that she
knew several men with titles; and that she is sure, if
she had not been unfortunately married before, she
might have been the wife of the Marquis of Tête de
Veau. The marquis was terribly disappointed when
he found she had a husband already; but they made
amends by forming a Platonic attachment, which means
—I don't know really what it means—for Mrs. Asheputtle,
it seemed to me, could not tell herself. All I know
is, that it must be a delightful thing, and I long to try it,
when I am married—for Mrs. Asheputtle says it won't
do for a single lady. What can it be, I wonder? "One of the great disadvantages of foreign travel is,
that it unfits one for the enjoyment of any thing in one's
own country, particularly when that country is so every
way inferior to the old world. It is truly a great misfortune
for a man to have too much taste and refinement.
I feel this truth every day of my life; and could almost
find in my heart to regret the acquirement of habits
and accomplishments that almost disqualify me for a
citizen of this vulgar republic, which, I am sorry to
perceive, seems in a fair way of debauching the whole
world with her pernicious example of liberty and
equality. If it were not for Delmonico and Palmo, the
musical soirées, and a few other matters, I should be the
most miserable man in the world. Would you believe
it, my dear count, there is not a silver fork to be seen in
all the hotels between New-York and Saratoga? And
yet the people pretend to be civilized! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 315 | Author: | unknown | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | A quarter race in Kentucky | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Nothing would start against the Old Mare; and after
more formal preparation in making weight and posting
judges than is customary when there is a contest, "the
sateful old kritter" went off crippling as if she was not
fit to run for sour cider, and any thing could take the
shine out of her that had the audacity to try it. The
muster at the stand was slim, it having been understood
up town, that as to sport to-day the races would prove
a water-haul. I missed all that class of old and young
gentlemen who annoy owners, trainers, and riders,
particularly if they observe they are much engaged,
with questions that should not be asked, and either
can't or should not be answered. The business folks
and men of gumption were generally on the grit, and
much of the chaff certainly had been blown off. Dinner kin be had On the FoLLowin Tums at my
HousE to Day priv8s thirty seven cents non comeishund
ophisers 25 comeishund frEE i want you awl to ete
dancin to beGin at won erclock awl them what dont
wish to kevort will finD cards on the shelf in the
cubberd licker On the uzual Tums | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 318 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Clara Moreland, or, Adventures in the far South-west | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | The first of October, of the year of our Lord 1845,
found me a guest of the Tremont House, in the goodly city
of Galveston, Texas. An invalid guest, I may add—for I
had been confined to my room for some days, suffering
much pain from a couple of flesh wounds received in a
recent skirmish with a party of Texan brigands, somewhere
between my present abode and the river Brazos,
while in the act of making my escape with some friends
from the head-quarters of a notorious villain, counterfeiter,
etcetera, known as Count D'Estang. The reader
who has been so fortunate, or unfortunate, (I leave him to
decide which,) as to peruse a portion of my narrative, under
the title of “Viola,” will readily understand to what I
allude; but in order to refresh his memory with the past
events of my career, and also give those before whom I
may now appear for the first time an inkling of what has
already been recorded of my adventures, I will here transcribe
a letter, which about this period I wrote home to
my worthy parent in Virginia: “In my last, dated at New Orleans, you will recollect I
made some mention of a very eccentric travelling companion,
by the name of Harley, who, having been introduced
to me one night at a ball in Swansdown, renewed acquaintance
on the boat at Louisville, and kept me company down
the river; and I think I also added, that we had in contemplation
a trip to Mexico, merely to gratify curiosity and
have some adventures. Well, we have not been to Mexico
as yet—but we have had some adventures notwithstanding.
If memory serves me right, I told you there was a certain
mystery about my friend—for even then I regarded him as
such—which I had not been able to fathom; but this has
since been explained away, and I now know his whole
history. “I have just received a letter from home, which requires
my presence there immediately. My poor father has been
taken suddenly ill, and is not expected to recover. I shall
leave to-day for Macon, via Savannah, taking Viola with
me, to whom I now expect my friends to be reconciled,
since the blood of the St. Auburns is not in her veins. As
I cannot fix on any time for my return, you had better not
wait for me; but write to Macon, and keep me advised of
your whereabouts. It grieves me to part with so dear a
friend—but necessity compels me. Can you not come to
Macon? Think of it seriously—I will assure you of a
cordial reception. Dear Viola, with tearful eyes, sends
her love to you. Do not fail to write, and keep me
advised of your doings; and believe me, my dear Harry, “Pardon my seeming uncourteousness of last night! I
was agitated, and troubled, but not without cause. After
what has already passed between us, I think it no more
than right that I should, to some extent, give you the explanation
you desired. This cannot be done in the presence
of a third party; and I must entreat you not to mention
aught of last night's interview to any one! Destroy this
as soon as read! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 319 | Author: | Bennett
Emerson
1822-1905 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The phantom of the forest | | | | 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: | Probably no region of the globe ever presented
more attractions to the genuine hunter and lover of
the backwoods, than the territory known as Kentucky
previous to its settlement by the race that
now holds possession of its soil. Its location, happily
intermediate between the extremes of heat and cold,
afforded a most congenial climate; its surface was
diversified by steep hills and deep valleys, stupendous
cliffs and marshy levels, dense woods and flowery
glades, immense caverns and tangled brakes, large
streams and wonderful licks; and hither came all the
beasts of the forest, to roam in unrestrained freedom
through wilds seldom trod by human feet, and gay-plumed
songsters from every region swept along the
balmy air and made the sylvan retreats ring with
their silvery strains. When first discovered by the
white man, no human beings claimed ownership of
this enchanting land. The red man of the North,
and the red man of the South, came here to hunt and
fight; but the victor bore off his spoils, and the vanquished
went back in dismay, and neither put up
his wigwam on the neutral ground. For years after
its discovery by the white man, Kentucky could not
boast a hundred of the race within its borders; but
then the tide of emigration set in strongly toward
this western land of promise, and a few years more
beheld its broad surface dotted here and there with
the rude fortresses and dwellings of incipient civilization.
Every step forward, however, was marked
with blood. The red man was jealous of the white,
and there was for a long period an almost continuous,
fierce, and sanguinary struggle for the mastery;
while the midnight yells, the wailing shrieks and
the burning homes, too often proclaimed the horrid
work of death and desolation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 320 | Author: | Cary
Alice
1820-1871 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The adopted daughter | | | | Published: | 2002 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | BY ALICE CAREY,
AUTHOR OF “CLOVERNOOK,” “LYRA,” ETC. “Miss Pridore,—A conversation with your brother this
afternoon, in which my father's misfortunes were the subject of
ridicule, will make it necessary for me to forego the pleasure of
seeing you at his birth-night party. Your friend, | | | Similar Items: | Find |
|
