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161Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The South-west  
 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 
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162Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lafitte  
 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 
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163Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lafitte  
 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 
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164Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Burton, or, The sieges  
 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 
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165Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Captain Kyd, or, The wizard of the sea  
 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: “Let me see you for a brief moment just as the moon rises, by the linden that grows at the foot of the Rondeel. My temporal, nay, spiritual welfare hangs upon your answer. I am penitent. I appeal to you as to a heavenly intercessor! Refuse not this request, lest the guilt of my suicidal blood fall on your soul.
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166Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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167Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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!
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168Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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169Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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170Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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171Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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172Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires 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.
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173Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Montezuma, the serf, or, The revolt of the Mexitili  
 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: `Stand aside, serf!' were the stern tones of an officer, addressed to a youth. While these events were transpiring within the palace, scenes of an opposite character were opening in the net-marker's quarter, and the neighborhood of the street of the Armorers. In a few minutes after parting with Casipeti at the palace-stairs, Montezuma landed on the opposite shore, at the foot of his own street. He entered his dwelling, to see if by chance any of his friends were there, and to leave a word of warning with Fatziza. He then hastened towards the arsenal, which Sismarqui had been ordered to seize, and the garrison of which his brother, who was one of the soldiers, had succeeded in corrupting. This he felt was the most important point to visit first, as it contained nearly all the weapons with which the revolters were to arm themselves. `Nephew, — The gods gave you life to elevate you, by its proper use, to equality, after death, with themselves. You have defeated this intention of your existence. The deity waits to receive back the gift of which you have proved yourself unworthy. Degraded, dishonored, and despised, you can no longer wish to live, and, like a brave man, have professed your desire to die. This last virtuous wish, unhappy prince, I have seen fit to enable you to fulfil, although, if I measured your punishment by your guilt, I should condemn you to live. May the river of death purify thy soul, and may the gods yet grant you to begin a new existence in another state! Thou wilt find the last best gift of heaven to man that hath outlived his honor, in the cup I send thee! I commend thee to the gods.
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174Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Neal Nelson  
 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 early in the beginning of that memorable contest which dismembered a powerful and splendid empire,' and to which a brave people were driven by the oppressive measures of the British ministry, that the following story opens. A commander-in-chief cannot be too cautious whom he employs about his person and makes confidants of his plans and purposes; especially in the position you are in, surrounded by enemies whom you have no means of knowing are other than they seem. The writer need not apprize you that the romantic notions of liberty and independence have seized upon the minds of more than one youth in the British army and that they have become disloyal to their king and taken arms with the rebels! It will not therefore so much surprise you to learn the disaffection and disloyalty of one near your own person and related to you by ties of consanquinity. I allude to Neal Nelson, against whom I deem it my duty to put you on your guard. I recommend to you to observe closely his conduct, and watch him when he absents himself from head quarters. It is easy for a traitor who has the pass word to go out and in the city at will. A word to the wise is enough; and General Howe is known not to be wanting in wisdom.'
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175Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The wing of the wind  
 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: From a child I have prayed as hard as I knew how, never to be led into temptation; but then I never expected I should be tempted with such a round lump as twenty thousand bright silver dollars! To tell you frankly, the temptation is irresistible. I have beat against it, but it has fairly got to the windward of me. I have weighed the whole matter and feel that I shall not again have such an opportunity to make my fortune; and so I tender you my resignation. It is better to have twenty thousand in hand, than run the chance of picking it up at sea from prizes, and then by-and-bye swing at the yard-arm of a man-of-war. I am content with the cool “XX”. I do but follow your example with the Colombians. I take this with better conscience, inasmuch as it does no injury either to the Don or his daughter; for had the money got on board they would never have come off. So, taking this moral view of the case, I shall decline going on board again. I shall take this note to the cutter and despatch it to you. I wish you a pleasant cruise, plenty of prize money, and plenty of slack to the rope that will one day be gently bent about your neck with a running noose. Your appearance on board—your gallantry,—the reflection that I owe to you more than life, impels me to address you. I owe you an apology for my past treatment of you when once you bestowed upon me your regard. I ask your forgiveness, though I have never forgiven myself. I was influenced to act as I did by representations made to my father and myself, against your character. They bore the air of truth, and were believed. Circumstances afterwards convinced me that I had done you injustice, and that you had been the victim of one whom you had ignorantly made your enemy. He deliberately plotted your ruin in my estimation, and, I am sorry to say, so far succeeded as to lead me to take a position with regard to you, which it has since deeply pained me to reflect upon. I now embrace the first opportunity—an opportunity I have long wished for—to make this avowal. It is due to myself as well as to you.
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176Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Alice May  
 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 write to avail myself of my privilege and duty, as your betrothed wife, to throw myself, at a crisis which has just occured in my life, upon your love! A certain Count Bondier is persecuting me with his attentions, and although I have in every way, not absolutely to insult him, shown him my repugnance to his suit, and also distinctly and firmly declined his addresses, yet he pursues them encouraged by my father who is warmly in favor of an alliance with his powerful family through me. My father has just left me with a menace that unless I will consent to marry him at the end of three months, that he will immure me in a convent, which God knows is to be preferred. I have asked and obtained six weeks to decide. This letter will reach you in two. It will take three weeks for you to reach here. I need not ask you to fly—for my love tells me you will soon be here to claim your lover as your bride! I have just heard something that has frozen my blood! I write, I know not what! Do not come! I am lost to you forever!
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177Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Bonfield, or, The outlaw of the Bermudas  
 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: Still shorter was a short winter's day rendered by a heavy and gloomy mist that filled the atmosphere and made it murky twilight long before the sun went down. It had just ended, in blasts and pelting rain, when a Thames boatman, chilled and wet by exposure, and with a pair of oars upon his shoulder, entered the door of his humble abode by the river side. `I have just learned that you are desirous of communicating with the fleet under Admiral Nelson, and are looking for a fleet sailing vessel. I offer you mine, and my services at any time after twelve o'clock to-night. My schooner's sailing qualities I need not speak of as they are doubtless well-known to your lordship, for some of his Majesty's cruisers have of late tested them. I offer your lordship my services in good faith, and will perform my errand with punctuality and honesty. Though a smuggler by profession, I am an Englishman at heart. If your lordship will forget that I am the former, I will only remember that I am the latter. I pledge myself to reach Lord Nelson within eight and forty hours after I take the despatches on board if the present wind holds. `Well, you rogue, you are wanted again. You must be in London with your schooner within five days without fail. Come up under revenue colors in the day time until within ten miles of London, and then keep on after dark and anchor off a pier one mile and a half below the Tower. You will know the place by two large oaks that grow at the head of the pier and by a red light which you will see suspended in the branches of one of the oaks. You will answer this light by another in your rigging. Your motions must be secret and cautious. When you reach the place, which you must try to do at least two hours after dark (there will be a six days' moon), drop your anchor short and trail up, not furl. Lay there till you see a boat put off to you. It will hail you and ask the news from Nelson. This boat you will let come on board, when you will give yourself up to the services and interests of those who shall visit you. You will be well paid, and all you are desired to do in return is to be faithful and secret.' `Sir,—The bearer of this is Captain Bonfield. He takes out as passengers, a young woman and child. The female is deaf and dumb. You are hereby desired to receive them into, your house, and take care of them, maintaing and providing for them as for members of your own household. She is to pass for your sister, and the child as your niece. For their expenses you will draw two hundred and fifty pounds a year in addition to your present allowance, and from the same source. On no account must the woman or child be permitted to leave the island. For their safe detention you will be answerable. You will be watched. Be faithful, therefore, to those who have it in their power to injure you. Ask no questions. Preserve silence, and be discreet, and your conduct will meet with recompense. The bearer after leaving them safely in your hands, is empowered by me to receive four thousand pounds; for which an order is enclosed on — which you will endorse and present for payment. The child's name is Virginia, to which you may add your own family name; as it will henceforward grow up and be regarded as one of your own family. As soon as possible you may forget that she has ever been otherwise. The woman who is deaf and dumb you will treat with kindness and respect, and provide for all her wants, seeing that she lacks nothing for her comfort. Upon the exact and faithful performance of all these requisitions will depend your own future interests. `This night I have landed with an armed party and invested the cottage of Robert Oakford, where the two passengers you entrusted to me six years ago are placed under his protection. I have, by force of arms, taken the two out of his possession, and am about to convey them on board my vessel and sail with them from the island. Believe me that your agents, Robert Oakford and sister, have done all that they were able to prevent me from taking them away; but as I was determined at all risks to get them both into my possession, they have had no other alternative but submission. Sir,—The bearer of this has informed me, in an accidental manner, of his obligations to you, and the circumstances under which they were entered into. I need not say I am surprised at hearing the facts. They are characteristic of yourself. You will, upon reading this, give him a receipt in full for all and whatsoever claim upon him or the father you may hold; the incarceration and long illness consequent thereupon having in equity fully cancelled your debt. `I have but a few hours to live. I must see you before I die. Let nothing prevent your hastening to me without a moment's delay. `I am married. The noble and amiable Flora is mine. Her relatives in England have sent for her, and we leave in the vessel which is anchored near the gardens. On board this vessel I was united to Flora at eight o'clock this morning. I go to England with my dear wife to gratify her; for you must know she is no relative of the old gardener, but is an orphan, who was placed under his charge in a mysterious way with money in plenty for him to educate her. This he has done. Tbe captain of the vessel says that her relatives have been discovered in England, and that they have sent him express for her. He has just told me that they are certainly noble. But this assurance does not make me think more of Flora. I have loved her in her humility. I could love her no more were she a princess. No title of nobility could make her nobler than she is in my eyes. But as the captain is not sure even of the name of her relatives, who seem to have kept him in the same kind of mystery which from childhood has hung about Flora, it may be that they are of humble degree. But should I find that they were of the peasantry, and dwelt in earthen hovels, I should think no less of Flora. To me she would always be Flora. I shall probably return after an absence of three months. Present my regards to my father. Still and ever, whatever you may be to me, Margaret, I have just arrived in London with Flora. I wait your orders. `I write to say that you need not take the trouble to visit Hawthorn Lodge, for we have resolved to disown our relationship with one who has shown himself unworthy to belong to the best society. As for your wife, I trust that you will see that she never presumes to speak to me, should I be so unfortunate as to meet her in the street.
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178Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Leisler, or, The rebel and king's man  
 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: Bits of history in a novel, especially at the outset, we very well know, are by no means relished by novel-readers, who generally like to open at once upon the action of the story. But it is sometimes necessary, particularly when a romance is based upon an interesting historical incident, to lay before the reader a brief outline of the events upon which the tale hangs. It is better, we think, to do this at the outset, in a fair and above-board manner, than open with an interesting scene, and before the reader has got half a dozen pages, smuggle in two or three solid pages of history, through which he must flounder, or take them at a flying leap. We don't like this mode of cheating our friends, so we place our history in the fore-ground, that it may be fairly met at the outset. Sir: Knowing that you possess no little influence and the confidence of the Protestant citizens, and believing that a communication to you will be the same as to them in the aggregate, I proceed to inform you that Lieutenant Colonel Nictolson; late acting Governor of this Province, under a commission from King James II, having refused to acknowledge the authority of William, the Prince of Orange, has seen fit to abdicate his government. He has this night past embarked on board a Swedish ship now in the harbor, and will sail at once for Europe. It was his desire that I should accompany him; but as it does not suit my purposes to quit the Province just now, I remain. Now herewith I propose to surrender the post and all appertaining to it to you, for the sum of ten thousand pounds; otherwise I shall defend it with the soldiers that are in it, against you and yours to to the last extremity. `You perceive, gentleman,' he said as they read the address, at the begining, `that I have anticipated your suggestion. I was interrupted, by your calling, in the composition of a solemn remonstrance to their Majesties, against Leisler's government. I will read to you, what I have written.' If you have a secure shelter, do not quit it, for your life is in danger. For my sake do not venture to town again, as no disguise will protect you.— Have you repented—will you become a protestant? I think of you momently.— My father has told me to-day, that I must positively marry the burgomaster, on pain of his displeasure. Oh, that you were a protestant! I know not what or how to address you. In a word, if you would have me, you must come and take me! It is in vain for me so resist my father and Van Vow conjointly. I must fly from the fort, or before eight o'clock to-night be the wife of this hateful simpleton. I have no escape unless I take poison or fly to you. I think nothing of your being a Roman, for I know when I am your wife you will isten to me. I think only of my love for you! of avoiding this horrible fate that awaits me. My father is stern and unbending. Van Vow is resolute. I have thrown myself upon the mercy of the former in vain; I have entreated the latter to spare me. I have told him I love him not, that I cannot love him. He is without feeling. He has finally, within the last half-hour said if I will pay him back the thousand dollars he will release me. I am mortified to allude to this, since you have not done so. But what can I do? I am in his power. If you can send the money to me do so at once and let me return it to him; for if he should inform my father I shall have to confess all, and I know not what will be my fate. You see I write with frankness to you as one in whom I trust my heart and happiness, for I believe you truthful and noble, and that you love me even as I love you. This is a crisis when it would be weak and foolish in me to disguise any thing I feel; and I have not done so. Send the money, if you can, or let me hear from you. Forgive the step I have taken.— I could NOT become the wife of Mynheer Van Vow.—I write to assure you of my safety.
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179Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The lady of the Gulf  
 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 near the close of an unusually severe day in March, that a person muffled to the eyes in a handsome dark-colored cloak, and wearing a singularly shabby fur cap, might have been seen stealing along the walk, in Chatham street, opposite the Pawnbrokers' or Jews' Row. His step was slow and hesitating, while his eyes furtively glanced about, now up the street, now down, as if fearing that his movements would be observed. His height and figure were good, and his air genteel, but in his seedy cap, and in his shrunken, worn trowsers, and old boots, that appeared beneath his very elegant Spanish cloak, there was a discrepancy that might have arrested the eye of any observing passer by. But no one of the hurrying crowd noticed him. Each one was bent on his own business and aim. The mechanic, with his hands filled with tools, was hastening to his family; the sewing girl, in hood and shawl, to her humble home far up town where rents were cheap; the man of pleasure was pressing forward to the theatre for an early seat; the beggar, shuffling along to his hole in some wretched cellar. No one noticed him, for extremes, in the metropolis, are too often wedded to attract remark. But the young man did not seem to avoid observation upon his dress, but upon his movements. Three times, he passed and repassed a narrow door hung about with second-hand garments, over the lintel of which was suspended a sign representing three gilt balls, the well-known beacon for the wretched.
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180Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The mysterious state-room  
 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 gentleman who gave the bride away was Mr. A—, her banker, to whom she had written to attend the ceremony. The paper she gave the priest contained her name and title. Catesby neither knew nor suspected anything of so singular and fortunate a denouement. In a few weeks, Frank having resigned his commission in the army, left America for this country, and on their arrival, drove directly over to Castle C—' where his charming wife at once surrendered to him her family mansion and vast estates. The change has not spoiled him. He is one of the most agreeable and gentlemanly men in England, and highly popular in his country. He is called by courtesy, (his wife's title having been by her marriage merged in his republican Mister or Captain,) Lord C—, of C—Castle, C—. His charming wife is devoted to him heart and soul. Never was a marriage more for love than this! He thought her lowly and his love raised her to his bosom—she knew him only to be a young American, without rank or title, yet, for love, she gave him all she had to give—beauty, wealth, and rank among nobles. They have two lovely children, a boy and girl; and the only subject on which they differ is their education. Catesby is for making the little fellow a republican, and sending him to West Point; while Clara intends him for Parliament, and to inherit her father's title and estates, which he will do—the little fellow's title being through his mother, Lord Viscount C—. You will by this time understand that the `uncle and aunt,' were Lady Clara's steward and his wife, whom she dragged with her from home, half over the world as her protectors when she started off on her wild travels. There can be nogreater instance of the peculiarly independent character of her mind than the fact of her quitting with disgust, the scenes of London disappation and resisting the fascinations of her numerous admirers, to roam amid the scenery of America, and commune with the works of nature in a world where nature has exhibited in the most stupendous manner her power and majesty. They live very retired, and seldom stay more than a third of the season in town. The remainder of the year they are in the country combining together in dispensing for the happiness and comfort of their numerous dependants the wealth with which they are blest. It was by accident I met Frank in town at the close of the season, and as he would not let me say nay—and something of his story coming to my mind, I consented to go down with him, partly from curiosity to learn its truth, I confess, but mainly, as you must know, to enjoy once more the society of one who was for four years my fellow cadet. Do not say after this that my letters are too short. Adieu, until the next trip of the Liverpool.
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