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41Author:  Thompson Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce) 1795-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  Locke Amsden, The schoolmaster  
 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: Our story, contrary perhaps to fashionable precedent, opens at a common farm-house, situated on one of the principal roads leading through the interior of the northerly portion of the Union. It was near the middle of the day, in that part of the spring season when the rough and chill features of winter are becoming so equally blended with the soft and mild ones of summer upon the face of nature, that we feel at loss in deciding whether the characteristics of the one or the other most prevail. The hills were mostly bare, but their appearance was not that of summer; and the tempted eye turned away unsatisfied from the cheerless prospect which their dreary and frost-blackened sides presented. The levels, on the other hand, were still covered with snow; and yet their aspect was not that of winter. Clumps of willows, scattered along the hedges, or around the waste-places of the meadows, were white with the starting buds or blossoms of spring. The old white mantle of the frost-king was also becoming sadly dingy and tattered. Each stump and stone was enclosed by a widening circle of bare ground; while the tops of the furrows, peering through the dissolving snows, were beginning to streak, with long, faint, dotted lines, the self-disclosing plough-fields. The cattle were lazily ruminating in the barn-yard, occasionally lowing and casting a wistful glance at the bare hills around, but without offering to move towards them, as if they thought that the prospects there were hardly sufficient to induce them yet to leave their winter quarters. The earth-loving sheep, however, had broken from their fold, and, having reached the borders of the hills by some partially trod path, were busily nibbling at the roots of the shriveled herbage, unheedful of the bleating cries of their feebler companions, that they had left stuck in the treacherous snow-drifts, encountered in their migrations from one bare patch to another.
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42Author:  Thompson Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce) 1795-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lucy Hosmer, or, The guardian and ghost  
 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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43Author:  Thompson Daniel P. (Daniel Pierce) 1795-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Shaker lovers, and other tales  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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44Author:  Jones Joseph 1812-1882Requires cookie*
 Title:  Chronicles of Pineville  
 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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45Author:  Jones Joseph 1812-1882Requires cookie*
 Title:  Major Jones's sketches of travel  
 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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46Author:  Thorpe Thomas Bangs 1815-1878Requires cookie*
 Title:  The mysteries of the backwoods, or, Sketches of the Southwest  
 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: We have wandered over the Louisiana prairies, our little pony, like an adventurous bark, seemingly trusting itself imprudently beyond the headlands, a mere speck, moving among the luxuriant islands of live oak that here and there sit so quietly upon the rolling waves of vegetation. Myriads of wild geese would often rise upon our intrusion, helping out the fancy of being at sea; but the bounding deer, or wild cattle, that occasionally resented our presence and rattled off at break-neck pace, kept us firmly on the land. In the spring seasons, the prairies are covered with the choicest flowers, that mix with the young grass in such profusion as to carpet them more delicately, and more richly, than in the seraglio of a sultan. Upon this vegetation innumerable cattle feed and fatten, until they look pampered, and their skins glisten like silk in the sun. Apparently wild as the buffalo, they are all marked and numbered, and in them consist the wealth of the inhabitant of the prairie. It is easy to imagine that herdsmen of such immense fields live a wild and free life; ever on horseback, like the Arabs, they have no fear save when out of the saddle, and nature has kindly provided a “steed” that boasts of no particular blood, that may be called the “yankee” of his kind, because it never tires, never loses its energy, and makes a living and grows fat, where all else of its species would starve.
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47Author:  Trowbridge J. T. (John Townsend) 1827-1916Requires cookie*
 Title:  Kate, the accomplice, or, The preacher and burglar  
 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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48Author:  Tucker Beverley 1784-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  George Balcombe  
 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, issuing from the wood, I entered a prairie, more beautiful than any I had yet seen. The surface, gently undulating, presented innumerable swells, on which the eye might rest with pleasure. Many of these were capped with clumps and groves of trees, thus interrupting the dull uniformity which generally wearies the traveller in these vast expanses. I gazed around for a moment with delight but soon found leisure to observe that my road had become alarmingly indistinct. It is easy, indeed, to follow the faintest trace through a prairie. The beaten track, however narrow, wears a peculiar aspect, which makes it distinguishable even at a distance. But the name of Arlington, the place of my destination, denoted at least a village; while the tedious path which I was travelling seemed more like to terminate in the midst of the prairie, than to lead to a public haunt of men. I feared I had missed my way, and looked eagerly ahead for some traveller, who might set me right, if astray. But I looked in vain. The prairie lay before me, a wide waste, without one moving object. The sun had just gone down; and as my horse, enlivened by the shade and the freshness of evening, seemed to recover his mettle, I determined to push on to such termination as my path might lead to. “I wrote you, under date of March tenth, that the bill remitted by you for one thousand dollars, drawn by Edward Montague on the house of Tompkins and Todd of this city, had been paid by a draft on Bell and Brothers of Liverpool, England. This draft I remitted, according to your directions, to my friend John Ferguson, of the house of Ferguson and Partridge, our correspondents there, with instructions to obtain, if possible, from the same house, a draft on the county of Northumberland. In this he succeeded, by procuring a draft on Edward Raby, Esq. of that county, for a like amount. “A draft drawn by Edward Montague, Esq., for one thousand dollars, was this day presented, and paid by us in pursuance of your standing instructions. “The draft of Messrs. Tompkins and Todd, on account of Mr. Montague's annuity, is to hand, and has been duly honoured. “Among the crosses of a wayward destiny, it is not the least, that for so many years I have lost all trace of the only man on earth to whom I could look for kindness or sympathy. Since accident has discovered to me your residence, I have felt as if fate might have in store for me some solace for a life of poverty and disgrace. For the last, indeed, there is no remedy; for the opinion of others cannot stifle the voice of self-reproach, nor deaden the sense of merited dishonour. But, bad as these are, (and they are enough to poison all enjoyment, to extinguish all hope, and to turn the very light of heaven into blackness,) they may be rendered more intolerable by the cold scorn of the world, by the unappeased wants of nature, and by the constant view of sufferings, brought by ourselves on those we love. This complication of evil has been my lot; and if one ray of comfort has ever shot into my benighted mind, it came with the thought, that he who knew me best knew all my fault, but did not think me vile. But what reason have I to think this? Why may not the misconstruction, which conscience has denied me power to correct, have reached you uncontradicted? How can I hope that you have not been told, that the lip, on which, with your last blessing, you left the kiss of pure, and generous, and ill-requited love, has not been since steeped in the pollution of a villain's breath? All this may have been told you. All this you may believe. But, whatever else may be credited against me, you will never doubt my truth. No, George; the fearful proof I once gave that I am incapable of deception, is not forgotten. Take, then, my single word, against all the world can say, that that hallowed kiss `my lip has virgined' to this hour. VOL. I.—M. Except the cold and clammy brow of my dying father, no touch of man has since invaded it; nor has one smile profaned it, since in that moment I consecrated it to virtue. “It is not the purpose of this letter to reproach you with your crimes, or to degrade myself by fruitless complaint of the wretchedness they have brought upon me. My weak voice can add no terrors to the thunders of conscience. The history of my sufferings would be superfluous. So far as you are capable of comprehending them, you already know them. The want of the necessaries of life you can appreciate. Of the sting of self-reproach to a conscience not rendered callous by crime, of the deep sense of irreparable dishonour, of the misery of witnessing distress brought by our fault on those we love, you can form no conception.
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49Author:  Tucker Beverley 1784-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  George Balcombe  
 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: We now approached the seat of justice for — county, and as we mingled in the crowd of countrymen flocking to the same point, our conversation was necessarily interrupted. I soon saw that Balcombe was distinguished, and that he was an object of interest and curiosity, which was painful to me. By him it seemed to be unmarked, and he moved on with a countenance of quiet serenity, as a man familiar with notoriety, and secure of himself “Your extraordinary communication of the 15th ultimo is before me. In answering it I find myself under the necessity of adverting to much more than it contains; and I shall do so fully, because I find it necessary to make you understand distinctly the relation between us. “Let me indulge a hope that the sight of my name at the bottom of this letter may not prevent you from reading it. Having hitherto received nothing at my hands but what, to you at least, appeared to be injustice, I cannot expect to engage your attention to what I am about to say, without first assuring you that the purpose of this letter is altogether friendly.
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50Author:  Tucker Beverley 1784-1851Requires cookie*
 Title:  The partisan leader  
 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: Poor Arthur! B— had predicted too truly that his heart would have some hankerings at the thought of leaving the house where he had, of late, spent so many pleasant hours. It is so long that I have said nothing about him, that the reader may think him forgotten, or may, himself, have forgotten that there was such a person. He had, in truth, no part in the transactions of which we have been speaking. He was at that time of life when the mind, chameleon like, takes its hue from surrounding objects. He was too young to be advised with, or trusted with important secrets. I have already mentioned that, on the day of the election, he had been detained at home by indisposition. But he had heard of the occurrences of that day; and he was, moreover, unconsciously exposed to influences from every member of the family, all tending to the same point. Least apparent, but not least efficacious, was that of his cousin Lucia. They were of that age when hearts, soft and warm, grow together by mere contact. With thought of love, but without thinking of it, they had become deeply enamored of each other. The thing came about so simply and so naturally, that the result alone needs to be told. Sir: I have the honor to lay before your Excellency an account of the operations of the troops under my command, since the date of my last despatch.
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51Author:  Tuckerman Henry T. (Henry Theodore) 1813-1871Requires cookie*
 Title:  Isabel, or, Sicily  
 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: There is, perhaps, no approach to the old world more impressive to the transatlantic voyager, than the Straits of Gibraltar. The remarkable promontory which rises abruptly before him, is calculated to interest his mind, wearied with the monotony of sea-life, not less as an object of great natural curiosity than from the historical circumstances with which it is associated. Anciently deemed the boundary of the world, it was fabled, that at this point Europe and Africa were united until riven asunder by Hercules, forming the south-western extremity of Andalusia, and long occupied as a Moorish fortress, it awakens the many romantic impressions which embalm the history of Spain; constituting, as it were, the gate of the Mediterranean, the comer from the new world cannot pass its lofty and venerable form, without feeling that he has left the ocean whose waters lave his native shore, and entered a sea hallowed by the annals of antiquity, and renowned for scenes of southern luxuriance and beauty.
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52Author:  Tyler Royall 1757-1826Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Algerine captive, or, The life and adventures of Doctor Updike Underhill  
 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: MINISTER OF THE UNITED STATES AT THE COURT OF LISBON, $C. I derive my birth from one of the first emigrants to New England, being lineally descended from Captain John Underhill, who came into the Massachusetts in the year one thousand six hundred and thirty; of whom honourable mention is made by that elegant, accurate, and interesting historian, the Reverend Jeremy Belknap, in his History of New Hampshire. Remembrin my kind love to Mr. Hilton, I now send you some note of my tryalls at Boston.—Oh that I may come out of this, and al the lyke tryalls, as goold sevene times puryfyed in the furnice. Them there very extraordinary pare of varses, you did yourself the onner to address to a young lada of my partecling acquaintance calls loudly for explination. I shall be happy to do myself the onner of wasting a few charges of powder with you on the morro morning precisely at one half hour before sun rose at the lower end of — wharff. We saluted the castle with seven guns, which was returned with three, and then entered within the immense pier, which forms the port. The prisoners, thirty in number, were conveyed to the castle, where we were received with great parade by the Dey's troops or cologlies, and guarded to a heavy strong tower of the castle. The Portuguese prisoners, to which nation the Algerines have the most violent antipathy, were immediately, with every mark of contempt, spurned into a dark dungeon beneath the foundations of the tower, though there were several merchants of eminence, and one young nobleman, in the number. The Spaniards, whom the Dey's subjects equally detest, and fear more, were confined with me in a grated room, on the second story. We received, the same evening, rations similar to what, we understood, were issued to the garrison. The next day, we were all led to a cleansing house, where we were cleared from vermin, our hair cut short, and our beards close shaved; thence taken to a bath, and, after being well bathed, we were clothed in coarse linen drawers, a strait waistcoat of the same without sleeves, and a kind of tunic or loose coat over the whole, which, with a pair of leather slippers, and a blue cotton cap, equipped us, as we were informed, to appear in the presence of the Dey, who was to select the tenth prisoner from us in person. The next morning, the dragomen or interpreters, were very busy in impressing upon us the most profound respect for the Dey's person and power, and teaching us the obeisance necessary to be made in our approaches to this august potentate. Soon after, we were paraded; and Captain Hamed presented each of us with a paper, written in a base kind of Arabic, describing, as I was informed, our persons, names, country, and conditions in life; so far as our captors could collect from our several examinations. Upon the back of each paper was a mark or number. The same mark was painted upon a flat oval piece of wood, somewhat like a painter's palette, and suspended by a small brass chain to our necks, hanging upon our breasts. The guards then formed a hollow square. We were blind folded until we passed the fortifications, and then suffered to view the city, and the immense rabble, which surrounded us, until we came to the palace of the Dey. Here, after much military parade, the gates were thrown open, and we entered a spacious court yard, at the upper end of which the Dey was seated, upon an eminence, covered with the richest carpeting fringed with gold. A circular canopy of Persian silk was raised over his head, from which were suspended curtains of the richest embroidery, drawn into festoons by silk cords and tassels, enriched with pearls. Over the eminence, upon the right and left, were canopies, which almost vied in B 2 riches with the former, under which stood the Mufri, his numerous Hadgi's, and his principal officers, civil and military; and on each side about seven hundred foot guards were drawn up in the form of a half moon.
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53Author:  Tyler Royall 1757-1826Requires cookie*
 Title:  The Yankey in London  
 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: ACCEPT my warmest thanks for the letters of introduction you presented me at parting, and for those transmitted me by the ship Union; and suffer me, through you, to make my grateful acknowledgments to Mr. G. for his very friendly proffer of making me known to some “excellent English friends.”—I do assure you, very few of our countrymen have left in London such favourable impressions of the American character as that gentleman. Indeed, all our United States' agents have done honour to our national diplomacy: among them Mr. K. and Mr. G. will be long distinguished; the former for the classical elegance of his bureau address, the latter for his commercial science—and both for that dignified, polished demeanour which European gentlemen will hardly admit can be attained without the tour of that continent. I ought, in justice, to observe, that our present envoy is a gentleman highly esteemed for the suavity of his manners, and respected for his adherence to the commercial rights of his nation.
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54Author:  Ware William 1797-1852Requires cookie*
 Title:  Letters of Lucius M. Piso, from Palmyra, to his friend Marcus Curtius at Rome  
 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 first nine of the following Letters have already appeared in the Knickerbocker Magazine.
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55Author:  Ware William 1797-1852Requires cookie*
 Title:  Letters of Lucius M. Piso, from Palmyra, to his friend Marcus Curtius at Rome  
 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: As I returned from the worship of the Christians to the house of Gracchus, my thoughts wandered from the subjects which had just occupied my mind, to the condition of the country, and the prospect now growing more and more portentous of an immediate rupture with Rome. On my way I passed through streets of more than Roman magnificence, exhibiting all the signs of wealth, taste, refinement, and luxury. The happy, lighthearted populace were moving through them, enjoying at their leisure the calm beauty of the evening, or hastening to or from some place of festivity. The earnest tone of conversation, the loud laugh, the witty retort, the merry jest, fell upon my ear from one and another as I passed along. From the windows of the palaces of the merchants and nobles, the rays of innumerable lights streamed across my path, giving to the streets almost the brilliancy of day; and the sound of music, either of martial instruments, or of the harp accompanied by the voice, at every turn arrested my attention, and made me pause to listen.
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56Author:  Ware William 1797-1852Requires cookie*
 Title:  Probus, or, Rome in the third century  
 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 record which follows, is by the hand of me, Nichomachus, once the happy servant of the great Queen of Palmyra, than whom the world never saw a queen more illustrious, nor a woman adorned with brighter virtues. But my design is not to write her eulogy, nor recite the wonderful story of her life. That task requires a stronger and a more impartial hand than mine. The life of Zenobia by Nichomachus, would be the portrait of a mother and a divinity, drawn by the pen of a child and a worshipper.
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57Author:  Ware William 1797-1852Requires cookie*
 Title:  Probus, or, Rome in the third century  
 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: Marcus and Lucilia are inconsolable. Their grief, I fear, will be lasting as it is violent. They have no resource but to plunge into affairs and drive away memory by some active and engrossing occupation. Yet they cannot always live abroad; they must at times return to themselves and join the company of their own thoughts. And then memory is not to be put off; at such moments this faculty seems to constitute the mind more than any other. It becomes in a manner the mind itself. The past rises up in spite of ourselves, and overshadows the present. Whether its scenes have been prosperous or afflictive, but especially if they have been shameful, do they present themselves with all the vividness of the objects before us and the passing hour, and minister to our joy or increase our pains. We in vain attempt to escape. We are prisoners in the hands of a giant. To forget is not in our power. The will is impotent. The effort to forget is often but an effort to remember. Fast as we fly, so fast the enemy of our peace pursues. Memory is a companion who never leaves us — or never leaves us long. It is the true Nemesis. Tartarean regions have no worse woes, nor the Hell of Christians, than memory inflicts upon those who have done evil. My friends struggle in vain. They have not done evil indeed, but they have suffered it. The sorest calamity that afflicts mortals has overtaken them; their choicest jewel has been torn from them; and they can no more drown the memory of their loss than they can take that faculty itself and tear it from their souls. Comfort cannot come from that quarter. It can come only from being re-possessed of that which has been lost hereafter and from enjoying the hope of that felicity now. See how Marcus writes. After much else he says,
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58Author:  Ware William 1797-1852Requires cookie*
 Title:  Julian, or Scenes in Judea  
 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: Praise to the God of Abraham. The locusts are flown. The land which they found flourishing and verdant as a garden, they have changed to the barrenness of a desert. The cities and the villages, but now so full of people, are become the region of desolation and death. Even the very city and house of God are level with the dust, and the ploughshare has gone over them. And here, upon the hill of Olives, I sit, a living witness of the ruin. By reason of the wonderful compassions of God, which never fail, I am escaped as a bird from the net of the fowler. Yet I take little joy in this. For why should the days of one like me be lengthened out, when the mighty and excellent of the land are cut off? I rather rejoice in this, that the spoiler is gone; the armies of the alien have ceased to devour; and they who are fled, and hidden in caves and dens of the rocks, may come forth again to inhabit the land and build up the waste places. A multitude, which no man could number, have fallen before the edge of the sword, or by famine, and the air is full of the pestilential vapors that steam up from their rotting carcases. But a greater multitude remains; and it may well be that ere many years have passed, they shall fill the land as before, and gathered into one by him who, though long delaying, will come, pay back, and more, the measure they have received. That time will surely come. Even as the Assyrian could not finally destroy, but the hand of the Almighty was put forth, and the city and the temple grew again from their ruins to a greater glory than before, so shall it be now. The Roman triumph shall be short. Messiah shall yet appear; and Jerusalem clothed in her beautiful garments shall sit upon her hills, the joy and crown of the whole earth.
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59Author:  Whittier John Greenleaf 1807-1892Requires cookie*
 Title:  Leaves from Margaret Smith's journal in the province of Massachusetts Bay, 1678-9  
 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: “Dear Friend: I salute thee with much love from this new Countrie, where the Lord hath spread a table for us in the Wilderness. Here is a goodlie companie of Friends, who doe seek to know the mind of Truth, and to live thereby, being held in favor and esteem by the Rulers of the Land, and soe left in Peace to worship God according to their consciences. The whole Countrie being covered with Snow, and the Weather being extreme cold, we can scarce say much of the natural gifts and advantages of our new Home; but it lyeth on a small River, and there be fertile Meadowes and old Cornfields of the Indians, and good Springs of Water, soe that I am told it is a desirable and pleasing place in the warm season. My soul is full of Thankfulness; and a sweet inward Peace is my portion. Hard things are made easie to me; this desert place, with its lonelie Woods and wintry Snows, is beautiful in mine eyes. For here we be no longer gazing-stocks of the rude Multitude, we are no longer haled from our Meetings, and rayled upon as Witches and possessed People. Oh! how often have we been called upon heretofore to repeat the prayer of one formerlie — `Let me not fall into the hands of man.' Sweet, beyond the power of words to express, hath been the change in this respect; and in view of the Mercies vouchsafed unto us, what can we do but repeat the language of David? — `Praise is comelie; yea, a joyful and pleasant thing it is to be thankful. It is a good thing to give thanks unto the Lord, to sing praises unto thy Name, O Most High! to show forth thy loving kindness in the morning, and thy faithfulness every night.'
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60Author:  EDITED BY N. P. WILLIS.Requires cookie*
 Title:  The legendary  
 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 is, I believe, or should be, a maxim of the true church, that confession of a sin is the first step towards its expiation. `When you receive this letter, your three sons will be no more. Frederic de Lancey is the bearer of it. He has done our dear Edward a signal service, and I have thought him trustworthy to convey to Alice the picture of my mother. My heart bleeds when I think of you, without one prop for your old age, save our innocent and helpless sister. We are all satisfied De Lancey would be a faithful son to you if you will permit him to be. In case of his death tomorrow—and the chances of war are alike to all—he has bequeathed to us all he is worth, and it is the earnest wish of my brothers as well as myself, that if he should be the only survivor, you would adopt him; and if he and sister Alice should fancy each other, that he may become a son in reality.
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