| | 1 | Author: | unknown | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | History of Virginia  | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Far removed from the impulse of mere adventure, which
had always been a powerful influence with the Anglo-Saxon
people in their migrations, was the spirit which led persons
of that race to cast a lustful eye upon the North American
continent long before any part of its soil had been taken up
by Englishmen. Being a people of imperturbable common
sense then as now, the supreme motive which governed them,
in their earliest explorations in those remote regions, was of
a thoroughly robust and practical nature. It was only to be
expected that the reports, exaggerated in the transmission, of
the incredible wealth drawn by the Spaniards from the mines
of Peru and Mexico would have inflamed to fever pitch the
cupidity of a daring and enterprising trading folk like the
Englishmen of the sixteenth century. It was the hope of
discovering gold and silver that chiefly prompted the first
adventurers to set out for that shadowy land, which Elizabeth,
with a splendid royal egotism, had named Virginia, in
commemoration of her own immaculate state. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 4 | Author: | Flint
Timothy
1780-1840 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Francis Berrian, or, The Mexican patriot | | | | 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: | In the autumn of this year I set out from Massachusetts
for the remote regions of the southwest on the
Spanish frontier, where I reside. When I entered the
steam-boat from Philadelphia to Baltimore, having taken
a general survey of the motley group, which is usually
seen in such places, my eye finally rested on a young
gentleman, apparently between twenty-five and thirty,
remarkable for his beauty of face, the symmetry of his
fine form, and for that uncommon union of interest,
benevolence, modesty, and manly thought, which are
so seldom seen united in a male countenance of great
beauty. The idea of animal magnetism, I know, is
exploded. I, however, retain my secret belief in the
invisible communication between minds, of something
like animal magnetism and repulsion. I admit that this
electric attraction of kindred minds at first sight, and
antecedent to acquaintance, is inexplicable. The world
may laugh at the impression, if it pleases. I have,
through life, found myself attracted, or repelled at first
sight, and oftentimes without being able to find in the
objects of these feelings any assignable reason, either
for the one or the other. I have experienced, too,
that, on after acquaintance, I have very seldom had
occasion to find these first impressions deceptive. It is
of no use to inquire, if these likes and dislikes be the
result of blind and unreasonable prejudice. I feel that
they are like to follow me through my course. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 5 | Author: | Flint
Timothy
1780-1840 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Shoshonee Valley | | | | 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: | At Length the south breeze began once more to
whisper along the valley, bringing bland airs, spring
birds, sea fowls, the deep trembling roar of unchained
mountain streams, a clear blue sky, magpies and orioles,
cutting the ethereal space, as they sped with
their peculiar business note, on the great instinct errand
of their Creator to the budding groves. The
snipe whistled. The pheasant drummed on the fallen
trunks in the deep forest. The thrasher and the
robin sang; and every thing, wild and tame, that had
life, felt the renovating power, and rejoiced in the retraced
footsteps of the great Parent of nature. The
inmates of William Weldon's dwelling once more
walked forth, in the brightness of a spring morning,
choosing their path where the returning warmth had
already dried the ground on the south slopes of the
hills. The blue and the white violet had already
raised their fair faces under the shelter of the fallen
tree, or beneath the covert of rocks. The red bud
and the cornel decked the wilderness in blossoms; and
in the meadows, from which the ice had scarcely disappeared,
the cowslips threw up their yellow cups
from the water. As they remarked upon the beauty
of the day, the cheering notes of the birds, the deep
hum of a hundred mountain water-falls, and the exhilarating
influence of the renovation of spring, William
Weldon observed in a voice, that showed awakened
remembrances—`dear friends, you have, perhaps,
none of you such associations with this season,
as now press upon my thoughts, in remembrances
partly of joy and sadness. Hear you those million
mingled sounds of the undescribed dwellers in the
spring-formed waters? How keenly they call up the
fresh recollections of the spring of my youth, and my
own country! The winter there, too, is long and severe.
What a train of remembrances press upon me!
I have walked abroad in the first days of spring.—
When yet a child, I was sent to gather the earliest
cowslips. I remember my thoughts, when I first dipped
my feet in the water, and heard these numberless
peeps, croaks, and cries; and thought of the countless
millions of living things in the water, which seemed
to have been germinated by spring; and which appeared
to be emulating each other in the chatter of
their ceaseless song. How ye return upon my
thoughts, ye bright morning visions! What a fairy
creation was life, in such a spring prospect! How
changed is the picture, and the hue of the dark brown
years, as my eye now traces them in retrospect.—
These mingled sounds, this beautiful morning, these
starting cowslips, the whole present scene brings back
1*
the entire past. Ah! there must be happier worlds
beyond the grave, where it is always spring, or the
thoughts, that now spring in my bosom, had not been
planted there.' Minister of Jesus—A wretch in agony implores you
by Him, who suffered for mankind, to have mercy
upon him. He extenuates nothing. The vilest outrage
and abandonment were his purpose. He confesses,
that he deserves the worst. His only plea is,
that he was ruined by the doting indulgence of his
parents. Luxury and pleasure have enervated him,
and he has not the courage to bear pain. Death is
horror to him, and Oh, God! Oh, God!—the terrible
death of a slow fire. Christ pitied his tormentors.
Oh! let Jessy pity me. The agony is greater, than
human nature can bear. Oh! Elder Wood, come,
and pray with, and for `They have unbound my hands, and furnished me
with the means of writing this. They are dancing
round the pile, on which I am to suffer by fire. My
oath, that I would possess thee, at the expense of
death and hell, rings in my ears, as a knell, that would
awaken the dead. Oh God! have mercy. Every
thing whirls before my eyes, and I can only pray, that
you may forget, if you cannot forgive | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 14 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The American lounger, or, Tales, sketches, and legends, gathered in sundry journeyings | | | | 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: | I am a bachelor, dear reader! This I deem necessary
to premise, lest, peradventure, regarding me as
one of that class whose fate is sealed,
— “As if the genius of their stars had writ it,”
you should deem me traitor to my sworn alliance.
For what has a Benedict to do with things out of the
window, when his gentle wife—(what sweet phraseology
this last! How prettily it looks printed!) his
“gentle wife” with her quiet eye, her sewing and
rocking chair on one side, and his duplicates or triplicates,
in the shape of a round chunk of a baby, fat as
a butter-ball; two or three roguish urchins with tops
and wooden horses, and a fawn-like, pretty daughter
of some nine years, with her tresses adown her neck,
and a volume of Miss Edgworth's “Harry and Lucy”
in her hand, which she is reading by the fading
twilight—demand and invite his attention on the
other. “How I yearn to be once more folded in your sisterly
embrace, to lean my aching head upon your bosom,
and pour my heart into yours. It is near midnight.
Edward has gone out to seek some means of earning
the pittance which is now our daily support. Poor
Edward! How he exists under such an accumulation
of misery, I know not. His trials have nearly broken
his proud and sensitive spirit. Since his cruel arrest,
his heart is crushed. He will never hold up his head
again. He sits with me all day long, gloomy and desponding,
and never speaks. Oh how thankful I feel
that he has never yet been tempted to embrace the
dreadful alternative to which young men in his circumstances
too often fly! May he never fly to the
oblivious wine cup to fly from himself. In this, dear
Isabel, God has been, indeed, merciful to me. Last
night Edward came home, after offering himself even
as a day laborer, and yet no man would hire him, and
threw himself upon the floor and wept long and bitterly.
When he became calmer, he spoke of my sufferings
and his own, in the most hopeless manner, and
prayed that he might be taken from the world, for Pa
would then forgive me. But this will never be. One
grave will hold us both. I have not a great while to
live, Isabel! But I do not fear to die! Edward! 'tis
for Edward my heart is wrung. Alas his heart is hardened
to every religious impression—the Bible he
never opens, family prayers are neglected, and affliction
has so changed him altogether, that you can no
longer recognise the handsome, agreeable and fascinating
Edward you once knew. Oh, if pa would relent,
how happy we might all be again. If dear Edward's
debts were paid, and they do not amount to
nine hundred dollars altogether, accumulated during
the three years of our marriage, he might become an
ornament to society, which none are better fitted to
adorn. Do, dearest Isabel, use your influence with pa,
for we are really very wretched, and Edward has been
so often defeated in the most mortifying efforts to obtain
employment—for no one would assist him because
he is in debt—(the very reason why they should) that
he has not the resolution to subject himself again to
refusals, not unfrequently accompanied with insult,
and always with contempt. My situation at this time,
dearest sister, is one also of peculiar delicacy, and I
need your sisterly support and sympathy. Come and
see me, if only for one day. Do not refuse me this,
perhaps the last request I shall ever make of you.
Plead eloquently with pa, perhaps he will not persevere
longer in his cruel system of severity. Edward
is not guilty—he is unfortunate. But alas, in this
world, there is little distinction between guilt and misery!
Come, dearest Isabel—I cannot be said “No.”
I hear Edward's footstep on the stair. God bless and
make you happier than your wretched sister, “I have learned the extremity of your anger against
Edward. Your vindictive cruelty has cast him friendless
upon the world, and I fly to share his fortune. I
must ask your forgiveness for the step I am about to
take. I am betrothed to Edward by vows that are
registered in Heaven.—Alas! it is his poverty alone that
renders him so hateful to you—for once you thought
there was no one like Edward. God bless you, my
dear father, and make you happy here and hereafter. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 15 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Morris Græme, or, The cruise of the Sea-Slipper | | | | 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: | It was the original intention of the author of the “Dancing Feather”
to have extended that work to fifty chapters, or the usual length of a novel
of two volumes. But the editor of the paper to whom it was communicated
in weekly numbers, requested, after six chapters had been published,
that it should be limited to ten chapters. This desire of the publisher the
author complied with, though with injury both to the plot and the harmonious
construction of the Romance. The favorable reception of “The
Dancing Feather,” even in this abridged character, induced its publisher to
reprint and re-issue it in a cheap octavo form. Its unlooked for popularity
in this shape, and the frequent calls for it even now, has induced the writer
to carry out, in some degree, his first intention, and to present the public
with a Sequel, commencing with the night of the mysterious departure
from her anchoring ground of the schooner “The Dancing Feather”—to
the story with which title the reader is referred. I am now near my end—but, as I believe death to be an
everlasting sleep, I feel no alarm. The grave is rest. I envy the
clod and the rock which are dead and feel not; and rejoice that
I shall soon be their fellow! But I would say a word to you before
I am annihilated. I wish you to know what you are ignorant of
respecting me. I am an Englishman descended of a noble family.
My grand-father was an Earl, my mother a Countess. A step-mother
made my parental roof a hell, and at the age of sixteen I fled
from it. I shipped as a common seaman; and having a naturedly
vicious turn, (I conceal nothing now) I soon contracted the worst
vices. In my twentieth year, enraged by a blow inflicted by the
Captain, Iconspired, and heading a mutiny took possession of the
brig, killing the Captain with my own hands and so wiping out the
foul stain he had blackened me with. We steered for the coast
of Africa; and, tempted by the great wealth realized by slave-stealing,
we engaged in the traffic and took a cargo to the West Indies.
The immense returns by the way of profit, with the absence of all
principle, led me to engage in it for a long period, till at length,
after several years, my name was known throughout the West Indies
and inspired terror all along the African coast. The wealth
I accumulated was enormous; and the guilt with which it was obtained
was equally vast. But what is guilt but a name? The
grave hides alike evil and good: at least this is my belief, and at
this hour it is a consoling one. If there were a God I know
there would be a hell for me. But my conscience is calm and
gives me no warning of a hereafter; and so I die without fear. A
peaceful state, my son! | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 16 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Caroline Archer, or, The miliner's apprentice | | | | 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: | CAROLINE ARCHER Was the most beautiful
milliner's apprentice that tripped along
the streets of Philadelphia. She was just
seventeen; with the softest brown hair, that
would burst into a thousand ringlets over the
neck and shoulders, all she could do to teach
it to lay demurely on her cheek, as a milliner's
apprentice should do. Her eyes were of
the deepest blue of the June sky after a fine
shower, not that showers often visited her
brilliant orbs, for she was as happy-hearted
as a child, and to sing all day long was as
natural to her as to the robin red-breast—at
least it was until she became a milliner's apprentice,
when she was forbid to sing by her
austere mistress, as if a maiden's fingers
would not move as nimbly with a cheerful
carol on her tongue. Her smile was like
light, it was so beaming; and then it was so
full of sweetness, and gentle-heartedness!
It was delightful to watch her fine face with
a smile mantling its classical features, and
her coral lips just parted showing the most
beautiful teeth in the world. One could not
but fall in love with her outright at sight—
yet there was a certain elevated purity and
dignity about her that checked lightness or
thought of evil in relation to her. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 17 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Herman de Ruyter | | | | 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: | It was a few minutes past nine o'clock
three evenings previous to the sudden disappearance
of the beautiful `Cigar-Vender,'
whose adventurous life, up to that time, has
afforded us the subject of a former Tale, when
the keeper of a miserable book-stall situated
in a narrow thoroughfare leading from Pearl
into Chatham street, prepared to close his
stall for the night. His stall consisted of
some rude shelfs placed against the wall of a
low and wretched habitation, with a sunken
door on one side of the shelves by which he
had ingress from the side-walk into a dark
narrow apartment that served him as a dwelling-place.
There were shelves against the
street wall on both sides of his door, a board
placed in front of which, encroaching about
two feet upon the pavement formed a sort of
counter. It was supported at each end by
rough empty boxes, in the cavity of one of
which, upon a bundle of straw as it stood on end,
facing inward, lay a small, ugly shock-dog with
a black turn-up nose, and most fiery little gray
eyes. In the opposite box, vis-a-vis to the
little spiteful dog crouched a monstrous white
Tom cat, with great green eyes, and a visage
quite as savage as that of a panther. Thus
with the counter and the boxes supporting it,
the keeper was enclosed in a sort of ingeniously
constructed shop, which he had contrived
to cover by a strip of canvass, which
served as a shade from the sun as well as a
shelter from the storms. The contents of his
shelves presented to the passer-by a singular
assemblage of old books, pamphlets, songs,
pictures of pirates and buccaneers hung in
yellow-painted frames; two-penny portraits
of murderers and other distinguished characters
in this line, with ferocious full lengths of
General Jackson, and Col. Johnson killing
Tecumseh! Rolls of ballads, piles of sailor's
songs of the last war, last dying speeches and
lives of celebrated criminals, were strewn
upon the counter, to which was added a goodly
assortment of children's picture books and
toys. Cigars and even candy were displayed
to tempt the various tastes of the passers-by,
and even gay ribbons, something faded, exposed
in a pasteboard box were offered as a
net to catch the fancy of the females who
might glance that way. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 18 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Spanish galleon, or, The pirate of the Mediterranean | | | | 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 opening scene of our story is laid in the Mediterranean Sea in the
month of June, 1700. One clear, cloudless morning, towards the latter end
of this month, the rising sun, himself yet unseen beneath the ocean, was
just touching the skyey outline of the bold summits of the Corsican Sierras
with a bright edge of gold. As each moment he rose higher and higher, the
darkness fled from the hollows and coverts of the mountain-sides into the
sea, revealing first the towers and turrets of a convent perched upon a pinnacle;
then, lower down, a walled monastery with its hanging gardens; then
a fortress with battlements and embrasures frowning above the waves; and
still lower, on the very verge of the sea, the hut of the fisherman! As the
bays and inlets caught the morning beams, the fisher's light craft with its
long latteen yard across was seen idly anchored near his door, or sluggishly
getting underweigh and moving under oars towards the open sea. In one
of the inlets of the cliff-bound shore, into which the beams of the morning
penetrated, lay moored close in with the towering rock, a large vessel of
about four hundred tons. The little bay in which she was sheltered, was
about two leagues to the northward of a considerable port on the east side
of the Island of Corsica; half a league from her position was a convent
surrounded by high and snow-white walls; and on the mountain side, almost
above her, stood a monastery half in ruins, yet inhabited. Perched
here and there upon a low, rocky projection stood a solitary fisherman's cot,
and the jagged peaks of the Sierras, elevated in the distance, formed a bold
back-ground to the scene. The vessel in question seemed to have taken up
the most advantageous position within the inlet for security, not only from
any sudden storm, but from the observation of any vessels which sailed past
outside; for unless they fairly entered the narrow bay, and turned sharp to
the left, they could not have discovered that it contained any thing besides
the half a score of fishing boats which usually belonged in its waters. It is my painful duty to communicate to your Highness, the loss, by capture,
in our bay of El Gancho on the morning of the 25th instant, of Your
Majesty's Galleon `La Reina Isabel.' This ship was driven into the Mediterranean
by an adverse gale and afterwards prevented by a corsair from
regaining her port, being chased until she run for shelter, three nights ago
into our secluded bay. Here she was attacked and defended with great
courage, so that she sunk the corsair's vessel, who boarded the Galleon in
boats, and after a hard fight succeeded in capturing her. Among the slain
were the captain with all his officers, and El Escelentissimo Senor Don
Ferdinand de Garcia, who with his daughter were passengers. Previous to
the attack, Don Ferdinand removed for safe keeping to our priory, one million
of specie belonging to your majesty, which I hold in trust at your majesty's
command. He left on board the galleon half a million which there
was not time to remove, which fell into the hands of the corsair Kidd, who
has possessed himself of the captured vessel and, after repairing her, sailed
from the island in her, doubtless bent on further deeds of rapine. Sir,—By command of His Majesty, I enclose you a despatch to the captains
or commanders of any vessels of war lying in the port of Gibraltar,
Spain, or Kingston in Jamaica, or wherever these despatches may find
them, to put themselves under your directions, for the purpose expressed in
their instructions, viz: the capture of the freebooter, William Kidd, and
bringing him (if possible) to trial, in this our England. Trusting that you
will be successful in taking him, through the aid of His Majesty's vessels of
war, and that you will prove yourself worthy in all respects of the confidence
His Majesty has graciously seen fit to repose in you, I am, &c. &c. Sir;—You are hereby desired to furnish such information respecting British
vessels in your waters, as the bearer, Mr. Belfort, may have occasion to
require on the secret service in which he is engaged, and also to further
his purposes, which he will make known to you, with every aid at your
command. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 19 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Freemantle, or, The privateersman! | | | | 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 scenes of the following story are laid about the beautiful shores and
among the pleasant islands of Boston Bay, near the close of the last war with
Great Britain. This contest, it will be remembered, was remarkably characterised
for the great number, boldness and success of the privateers which
sailed out of the New England ports and covered every sea whitened by British
commerce. `Hebert Vincent, late midshipman in the Navy of the United States, having
deserted his ship at Newport, is dismissed from the service; his expulsion to
take effect from the 14th inst. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 20 | Author: | Ingraham
J. H.
(Joseph Holt)
1809-1860 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Grace Weldon, or Frederica, the bonnet-girl | | | | 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: | At the conclusion of one of those little romances, hardly to be dignified
by the name of novels, which, during the past year, we have thrown off
from the press, we promised one day a continuation. In that romance,
which bore the title of `Jemmy Daily,' we took juvenile subjects, and
brought them forward to the verge of manhood, leaving them just as they
were about entering into the whirl of life. The numerous applications from
`little folk,' that we have since been honored with, to redeem our promise to
write a sequel, we cannot well resist any longer; and hereby prepare to
make good our pledge. We shall begin our story by introducing, for the
benefit of those who have not seen `Jemmy Daily,' the concluding paragraph
of that work. It is as follows: `I have received a line from James, saying he is not well. Be so kind
as to go and see him, and let me know how he is, and if he wants any thing
to be done for him, and send me word. His absence confines me to the
counting-room. His mother lives at No. — Washington street, below Summer.
It is but a step. `Dear Sir, — As you have been so obliging as to pay once or twice my
checks for large over-drafts at your counter, you will oblige me by paying
this at sight, though I am aware I have but a trifle set to my credit on the
bank books. To-morrow I will deposite the full amount. I should not presume
upon this liberty but for my knowledge of your former indulgence,
when I have carelessly overdrawn. Trusting the same confidence in me will
now prevent this from being returned “without funds,” I enclose it by my
usual bank clerk. An unexpected negotiation I have entered into since
drawing out the one thousand dollars, compels me to anticipate in this manner
the morrow's deposits. `Sir, — I feel it my duty to caution you against paying any checks offered
you, professing to be drawn by W. Weldon, merchant, on Central Wharf,
as in all likelihood such checks will prove to be forgeries, if offered to you
by Mr. Weldon's head clerk, or by a lad with light hair and blue eyes, whom
he has selected to present them, as resembling Mr. Weldon's son. My
motive in warning you proceeds from the dictates of a troubled conscience,
for I have been a guilty participator in the crime of deceiving you, with Mr.
Daily, the clerk alluded to; but I can no longer be so, and be happy. James
Daily began his operations by employing the lad you have so often seen, and
who will present you a forged check, this morning, for twenty-five hundred
dollars, which I hope you will not have paid ere this caution reaches you.
He began, I say, about three weeks ago, by engaging a shrewd youth to act
for him, and present the checks. The reason why, after overdrawing, he
paid back again the overplus, was to deceive the bank into security, and
blind you! This was done twice. In both cases it was the part of a subtle
plot, deeply laid by Daily, for reaping, by-and-bye, a rich harvest. Of the
last draft, for eleven hundred, which this upright clerk forged, and the lad
presented, only one thousand were re-deposited, as you will recollect, one
hundred being kept back by him. This was only the first picking of Daily's
harvest, which he promised to himself. He had now got you familiar with
his clerk's face, (the blue-eyed lad,) and had lulled your fears, by promptly
depositing when over-checking. It now remained for him to pursue the play
in his own way. All he would have to do, when he wanted funds for his
private purposes, to pay gambling debts, &c., was to draw a check on your
bank, send it by the youth, receive the money, and then so manage that Mr.
Weldon would be kept in ignorance of the diminution of his funds. This
was, and is his plan. And, as the first fruits of it, he has this morning
showed me a draft (forged) for twenty-five hundred dollars, every dollar of
which he intends to defraud the bank of; and as I know his next checks
will be much larger, and as I tremble for the consequences to myself and
brother, (for the lad he has beguiled is my brother,) I have thought it best
to inform the bank in season, hoping, that should any steps be taken against
James Daily, and he should implicate my brother, that he, as well as I, may
be passed over, by reason of his youth, and my present voluntary information
given to the bank. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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