| | 164 | Author: | Lang, Andrew | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Angling Sketches  | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | These papers do not boast of great sport. They are truthful, not like the tales
some fishers tell. They should appeal to many sympathies. There is no false
modesty in the confidence with which I esteem myself a duffer, at fishing. Some
men are born duffers; others, unlike persons of genius, become so by an infinite
capacity for not taking pains. Others,
again, among whom I would rank myself, combine both these elements of
incompetence. Nature, that made me enthusiastically fond of fishing, gave me
thumbs for fingers, short-sighted eyes, indolence, carelessness, and a temper
which (usually sweet and angelic) is goaded to madness by the laws of matter and
of gravitation. For example: when another man is caught up in a branch he
disengages his fly; I jerk at it till something breaks. As for carelessness, in
boyhood I fished, by preference, with doubtful gut and knots ill-tied; it made
the risk greater, and increased the excitement if one did hook a trout. I can't
keep a fly-book. I stuff the flies into my pockets at random, or stick them into
the leaves of a novel, or bestow them in the lining of my hat or the case of my
rods. Never, till 1890, in all my days did I possess a landing-net. If I can
drag a fish up a bank, or over the gravel, well; if not, he goes on his way
rejoicing. On the Test I thought it seemly to carry a landing- net. It had a
hinge, and doubled up. I put the handle through a button- hole of my coat: I saw
a big fish rising, I put a dry fly over
him; the idiot took it. Up stream he ran, then down stream, then he yielded to
the rod and came near me. I tried to unship my landing-net from my button-hole.
Vain labour! I twisted and turned the handle, it would not budge. Finally, I
stooped, and attempted to ladle the trout out with the short net; but he broke
the gut, and went off. A landing-net is a tedious thing to carry, so is a creel,
and a creel is, to me, a superfluity. There is never anything to put in it. If I
do catch a trout, I lay him under a big stone, cover him with leaves, and never
find him again. I often break my top joint; so, as I never carry string, I
splice it with a bit of the line, which I bite off, for I really cannot be
troubled with scissors and I always lose my knife. When a phantom minnow sticks
in my clothes, I snap the gut off, and put on another, so that when I reach home
I look as if a shoal of fierce minnows had attacked me and hung on like leeches.
When a boy, I was--once or twice--a bait-fisher, but I never carried worms in
box or bag. I found them under big stones, or in the fields, wherever I had the luck. I
never tie nor otherwise fasten the joints of my rod; they often slip out of the
sockets and splash into the water. Mr. Hardy, however, has invented a
joint-fastening which never slips. On the other hand, by letting the joint rust,
you may find it difficult to take down your rod. When I see a trout rising, I
always cast so as to get hung up, and I frighten him as I disengage my hook. I
invariably fall in and get half-drowned when I wade, there being an
insufficiency of nails in the soles of my brogues. My waders let in water, too,
and when I go out to fish I usually leave either my reel, or my flies, or my
rod, at home. Perhaps no other man's average of lost flies in proportion to
taken trout was ever so great as mine. I lose plenty, by striking furiously,
after a series of short rises, and breaking the gut, with which the fish swims
away. As to dressing a fly, one would sooner think of dressing a dinner. The
result of the fly-dressing would resemble a small blacking-brush, perhaps, but
nothing entomological. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 169 | Author: | Smith, F. Hopkinson | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Tom Grogan | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | SOMETHING worried Babcock. One could see that from the impatient gesture with
which he turned away from the ferry window on learning he had half an hour to
wait. He paced the slip with hands deep in his pockets, his head on his chest.
Every now and then he stopped, snapped open his watch and shut it again quickly,
as if to hurry the lagging minutes. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 177 | Author: | De Forest
John William
1826-1906 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Miss Ravenel's conversion from secession to loyalty | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | 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 shortly after the capitulation of loyal Fort Sumter
to rebellious South Carolina that Mr. Edward Colburne
of New Boston made the acquaintance of Miss Lillie
Ravenel of New Orleans. “My dear Colonel,” it ran, “I am sorry that I can give
you no better news. Waldo and I have worked like Trojans,
but without bringing anything to pass. You will
see by enclosed copy of application to the Secretary, that
we got a respectable crowd of Senators and Representatives
to join in demanding a step for you. The Secretary is all
right; he fully acknowledges your claims. But those
infernal bigots, the Sumner and Wilson crowd, got ahead
of us. They went to headquarters, civil and military. We
couldn't even secure your nomination, much less a senatorial
majority for confirmation. These cursed fools mean
to purify the army, they say. They put McClellan's defeat
down to his pro-slavery sentiments, and Pope's defeat to
I
McClellan. They intend to turn out every moderate man,
and shove in their own sort. They talk of making Banks
head of the Army of the Potomac, in place of McClellan,
who has just saved the capital and the nation. There
never was such fanaticism since the Scotch ministers at
Dunbar undertook to pray and preach down Cromwell's
army. You are one of the men whom they have black-balled.
They have got hold of the tail-end of some old
plans of yours in the filibustering days, and are making the
most of it to show that you are unfit to command a brigade
in `the army of the Lord.' They say you are not the
man to march on with old John Brown's soul and hang
Jeff. Davis on a sour apple-tree. I think you had better
take measures to get rid of that filibustering ghost. I have
another piece of advice to offer. Mere administrative
ability in an office these fellows can't appreciate; but they
can be dazzled by successful service in the field, because
that is beyond their own cowardly possibilities; also because
it takes with their constituents, of whom they are the
most respectful and obedient servants. So why not give
up your mayoralty and go in for the autumn campaign?
If you will send home your name with a victory attached
to it, I think we can manufacture a a public opinion to
compel your nomination and confirmation. Mind, I am
not finding fault. I know that nothing can be done in
Louisiana during the summer. But blockheads don't know
this, and in politics we are forced to appeal to blockheads;
our supreme court of decisions is, after all, the twenty
millions of ignorami who do the voting. Accordingly, I
advise you to please these twenty millions by putting yourself
into the fall campaign. “My dear Lillie,” began the first; and here she paused
to kiss the words, and wipe away the tears. “We have
had a smart little fight, and whipped the enemy handsomely.
Weitzel managed matters in a way that really
does him great credit, and the results are one cannon,
three hundred prisoners, possession of the killed and
wounded, and of the field of battle. Our loss was trifling,
and includes no one whom you know. Life and
limb being now doubly valuable to me for your sake, I
am happy to inform you that I did not get hurt. I am
tired and have a great deal to do, so that I can only scratch
you a line. But you must believe me, and I know that
you will believe me, when I tell you that I have the heart
to write you a dozen sheets instead of only a dozen sentences.
Good bye, my dear one. “My dear Doctor,—I have had the greatest pleasure
of my whole life; I have fought under the flag of my
country, and seen it victorious. I have not time to write
particulars, but you will of course get them in the papers.
Our regiment behaved most nobly, our Colonel proved
himself a hero, and our General a genius. We are encamped
for the night on the field of battle, cold and hungry,
but brimming over with pride and happiness. There
may be another battle to-morrow, but be sure that we shall
conquer. Our men were greenhorns yesterday, but they
are veterans to-day, and will face any thing. Ask Miss
Ravenel if she will not turn loyal for the sake of our gallant
little army. It deserves even that compliment. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 179 | Author: | De Forest
John William
1826-1906 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Playing the mischief | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | JOSEPHINE MURRAY was one of those
young women whom every body likes
very much on a first acquaintance. “My dear Friend”—her epistle ran—
“Why did you not take the kind trouble to
tell me all that with your own kind lips?
It would have been so much more friendly
on your part, and I should have understood
every thing so much better, and without the
worry of long pondering over it. I do hope
that you will call to see me soon, if only to
assure me that you are not annoyed. Cordially,
your friend, “My dear Uncle” (he read),—“I can
not tell you how keenly I regret that any
difference should have arisen between us. I
assure you that I set the very highest value
upon the good opinion and friendship of
yourself and my dear, excellent, generous
aunt. To recover your consideration and
kindness I would do more than for any other
object which I can conceive. I feel all
this the more deeply because I hear that
your wife is ill. Is it possible that I have
been in any way the cause of her sickness?
If so, it would comfort me very much to be
allowed to see her, and to tell her of my regret
and my lasting affection. Could she
grant me this favor, and could you sanction
it? Do pray have the goodness to let me
know whether this may be. Very affectionately,
your niece, “My dear Josie” (he wrote her),—“You
have not received me for two days past.
May I ask, in all kindness, if you have tired
of me? I must remember that your situation
has changed since the day I was happy
enough to secure the promise of your hand,
and the gift, as I then trusted, of your heart.
You were then in moderate circumstances;
you, perhaps, stood in need of a protector.
Now you are rich, and can suffice for yourself,
and can do without me. Do not, I earnestly
beg of you, suppose that I wish to get
free from my engagement, or that I could
part with you, even at your desire and for
your good, without great suffering. I only
wish to be kind, to be honorable, and to show
myself truly loving. For this reason alone,
and for the sole purpose of sacrificing myself,
if need be, to your happiness, I set you free
from your engagement. But to-morrow I
shall call again, shall beg to see a lady who
is now as much above me in fortune as in all
things else, and shall renew my offer of marriage.
Very respectfully and very lovingly,
yours, “My dearest Friend,—How could you
so misjudge me? Be sure you keep your
promise to come and see me. Those who know Mr. Drummond intimately,
and those who have had the startling good
fortune to listen to him in his moments of
épanchement, can imagine how he blasphemed
over this letter. One comment, however, is
sufficiently decorous for quotation, and sufficiently
keen to be worthy of it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 180 | Author: | De Forest
John William
1826-1906 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Seacliff, or, The mystery of the Westervelts | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | 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 exactly a year since I had said good-bye to Mr.
and Mrs. Westervelt, and to the two Misses Westervelt,
in Switzerland. “I write this at the earnest request of my daughter,
who is a friend of yours, and who wishes me to interfere
between you and the slanders of a certain young man who is
in the habit of visiting your country-house. My child has
repeated some of these falsehoods to me, while others are
of so shocking a nature that she declares she will never utter
them to a human being. I will not state a single one of the
vile fictions here, because I do not wish to pain you, and also
because your character is so pure that you will never find it
necessary to contradict them. Your friends will do that for
you. But even if the slanders are not worth your notice,
the slanderer ought to be punished. Of course, you will
simply exclude him from your society, without explaining
the reason to him or to any one else. The less said in
such matters, the sooner they are over. His name is Fitz
Hugh. “Dear Grandchild,—Mr. Louis Fitz Hugh has called on
me and requested your hand in marriage. I am pleased
with his statements, as well as his appearance; and, from
what I can learn concerning him, I infer that you have made
a good choice and shown your usual discretion. Your father
having left me to decide concerning the acceptance of Mr.
Fitz Hugh's suit, I take pleasure in saying that I see no
sufficient objection to it, and that I shall be happy to welcome
him into our family. I must inform you, however, that his
income is small, and that, if you marry him, you must make
up your mind to economy. But this will be all the better for
you. I should despise a girl who would draw back from a
marriage on this account. Economy is not only a virtue, but
a talent; and you ought to be proud to show that you are
capable of it. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that
rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist
that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if
you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a
notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to
ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find
that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my
son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary.
I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will
be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority,
whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that
rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist
that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if
you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a
notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to
ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find
that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my
son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary.
I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will
be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority,
whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that
rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist
that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if
you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a
notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to
ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find
that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my
son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary.
I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will
be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority,
whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that
rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist
that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if
you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a
notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to
ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find
that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my
son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary.
I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will
be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority,
whatever that may amount to. “I wish you in the first place to believe that I love you
from the bottom of my heart, and that never, never since our
marriage have I been unfaithful to you in deed or thought.
I declare this to you most solemnly, as if with my dying
breath; and I will repeat it to you at the last great day; and
God knows that it is the truth. Do not, I beg of you, believe
one word that Mr. Somerville may say against my honor as
a wife. I have sins enough to answer for, but not that one. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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