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341Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  Out of the foam  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
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342Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  Pretty Mrs. Gaston, and other stories  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Sir—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your communication of to-day on the subject of the late Mr. Cleave's testamentary disposition of his estate, and to express my regret that the discovery of the wishes of the deceased in connection with Miss Bell should have taken place after so long a period of time. As the friend of the late Mr. Cleave, and if you will permit me to add, as the friend of yourself, I would suggest, as your most advisable course under all the circumstances, a prompt compliance with the terms of the instrument referred to. Miss Bell is, I am informed, a young lady of amiable disposition and great personal attractions, and I have no doubt would readily be brought to see the propriety of the arrangement in question. “Amiable Mr. Allan Gartrell: Your unappreciated friend, Mr. John Brown, presents his compliments, and begs to state that not finding a longer stay at your hospitable mansion agreeable to his feelings, he has reluctantly concluded to tear himself away.
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343Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  Surry of Eagle's-nest, or, The memoirs of a staff-officer serving in Virginia  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Having returned to “Eagle's-Nest,” and hung up a dingy gray uniform and batered old sabre for the inspection of my descendants, I propose to employ some leisure hours in recording my recollections, and describing, while they are fresh in my memory, a few incidents of the late Revolution. “General:—Hold your ground only ten minutes longer, and the enemy will fall back. I have captured a courier from General Shields. His line is ordered to retire. “General:—The bearer, Major Surry, of my staff, is sent to superintend the burial of my dead in the action yesterday, and look after the wounded. I have the honor to request that he may be permitted to pass your lines for that purpose. He will give any parole you require. “Will you lend me Colonel Surry for three or four days? “Certainly. “For the sake of one who fell at Kelly's Ford, March 17th, '63, an unknown Georgian sends you a simple cluster of young spring flowers. You loved the `gallant Pelham,' and your words of love and sympathy are `immortelles' in the hearts that loved him. I have never met you, I may never meet you, but you have a true friend in me. I know that sad hearts mourn him in Virginia, and a darkened home in Alabama tells the sorrow there. My friendship for him was pure as a sister's love, or a spirit's. I had never heard his voice. “For some time now it has been plain to me that our engagement is distasteful to you, and that you wish to be released from it. Considering the fact that you gave me ample encouragement, and never, until you met with a person whom I need not name, showed any dissatisfaction at the prospect of becoming Mrs. Baskerville, I might be justified in demanding the fulfilment of your engagement. But I do not wish to coerce the action of any young lady, however my feelings may be involved, and I scorn to take advantage of a compact made in good faith by my late father and myself. I therefore release you from your engagement. “I received your note. Thank you, sir! If I could have induced you to write that letter by kneeling before you, I should have knelt to you. “An unknown friend, who takes an interest in you, writes these lines, to put you in possession of facts which it is proper you should be acquainted with. “I have just had a visit from Mrs. Parkins, and she has made some astonishing disclosures, of the deepest importance to you. She declares that you have a son now living, and, before she left me, I succeeded in discovering that you will be able to learn all about him by visiting a Mrs. Bates, near Frederick City, Maryland, who is in some way connected with this mysterious affair. I think that Mrs. Parkins went to Maryland to inquire into this, with the design of obtaining a reward from you—but she has now left Elm Cottage, and I do not know where you will find her.
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344Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  The youth of Jefferson, or, A chronicle of college scrapes at Williamsburg, in Virginia, A.D. 1764  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ON a fine May morning in the year 1764,—that is to say, between the peace at Fontainebleau and the stamp act agitation, which great events have fortunately no connection with the present narrative,—a young man mounted on an elegant horse, and covered from head to foot with lace, velvet, and embroidery, stopped before a small house in the town or city of Williamsburg, the capital of Virginia. “You insulted a lady in my presence yesterday evening, and I demand from you a retraction of all that you uttered. I am not skilled in writing, but you will understand me. The friend who bears this will bring your answer. “For you know you begin `Mr. Hoffland!' as if you said, `Stand and deliver!'—I have read your note, and I am sure I shan't be able to write half as well. I am so young that, unfortunately, I have never had an affair, which is a great pity, for I would then know how to write beautiful long sentences that no one could possibly fail to understand. “Your note is not satisfactory at all. I did not quarrel with your opinion of yourself, and you know it. I was not foolish enough to be angry at your declaring that you wer engaged to some lady already. You spoke of a lady who is my friend, and what you said was insulting. “Stop!—I didn't say I was engaged to any lady: no misunderstanding. “I do not understand your note. You evade my request for an explanation. I think, therefore, that the shortest way will be to end the matter at once. “Oh, Mr. Denis, to shoot me in cold blood! Well, never mind! Of course it's a challenge. But who in the world will be my `friend'? Please advise me. You know Ernest ought not to—decidedly. He likes you, and you seemed to like Miss Lucy, who must be a very sweet girl as she is Ernest's sister. Therefore, as I have no other friend but Ernest, I should think we might arrange the whole affair without troubling him. I have been talking with some people, and they say I have `the choice of weapons'—because you challenged me, you know. I would rather fight with a sword, I think, than be shot, but I think we had better have pistols. I therefore suggest pistols, and I have been reading all about fighting, and can lay down the rules. “Your note is very strange. You ask me to advise you whom to take as your second; and then you lay down rules which I never heard of before. I suppose a gentleman can right his grievances without having to fight first and marry afterwards. What you write is so much like joking, that I do n't know what to make of it. You seem to be very young and inexperienced, sir, and you say you have no friend but Mowbray. “Joking, my dear fellow? Of course I was joking! Did you think I really was in earnest when I said that I was so handsome, and was engaged already, et cetera, and so forth, as one of my friends used to say? I was jesting! For on my sacred word of honor, I am not engaged to any one—and yet I could not marry Lucy. I am wedded already—to my own ideas! I am not my own master—and yet I have no mistress! “I am very glad you were joking, and I am glad you have said so with manly courtesy—though I am at a loss to understand why you wished to `tease' me. But I do n't take offence, and am sure the whole matter was a jest. I hope you will not jest with me any more upon such a subject—I am very hasty; and my experience has told me that most men that fall in duels, are killed for this very jesting. “Your apology is perfectly satisfactory.—But I forgot! I made the apology myself! Well, it's all the same, and I am glad we have n't killed each other—for then, you know, we would have been dead now.
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345Author:  Harte Bret 1836-1902Add
 Title:  Condensed Novels and Other Papers  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “My Dear Boy:—I regret to inform you that in all probability you are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to say, was a highly improper person. Who your father may be, I really cannot say, but perhaps the Honorable Henry Boltrope, Captain R. N., may be able to inform you. Circumstances over which I have no control, have deferred this important disclosure.
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346Author:  Brackenridge H. H. (Hugh Henry) 1748-1816Add
 Title:  Modern chivalry  
 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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347Author:  Brackenridge H. H. (Hugh Henry) 1748-1816Add
 Title:  Modern chivalry  
 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: JOHN FARRAGO, was a man of about fifty-three years of age, of good natural sense, and considerable reading; but in some things whimsical, owing perhaps to his greater knowledge of books than of the world; but, in some degree, also, to his having never married, being what they call an old batchelor, a characteristic of which is, usually, singularity and whim. He had the advantage of having had in early life, an academic education; but having never applied himself to any of the learned professions, he had lived the greater part of his life on a small farm, which he cultivated with servants or hired hands, as he could conveniently supply himself with either. The servant that he had at this time, was an Irishman, whose name was Teague Oregan. I shall say nothing of the character of this man, because the very name imports what he was. I have two objections to this duel matter. The one is, lest I should hurt you; and the other is, lest you should hurt me. I do not see any good it would do me to put a bullet through any part of your body. I could make no use of you when dead, for any culinary purpose, as I would a rabbit or a turkey. I am no cannibal to feed on the flesh of men. Why then shoot down a human creature, of which I could make no use. A buffalo would be better meat. For though your flesh might be delicate and tender; yet it wants that firmness and consistency which takes and retains salt. At any rate it would not be fit for long sea voyages. You might make a good barbecue, it is true, being of the nature of a racoon or an opossum; I but people are not in the habit of barbecuing any thing human now. As to your hide, it is not worth the taking off, being little better than that of a year old colt. “Know all men by these presents, that I Teague O'Regan, Major, am held and firmly bound unto John Hardicknute, in the sum of one hundred pounds, money of the United States, well and truly to be paid to him the said John, his heirs, executors, administators, or assigns. Given under my hand and seal this second day of June, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and ninety-one. Would wish to have the pleasure of Major O'Regan's company this evening at tea. Lawyer Crabtree and Doctor Drug will be here; and you know we shall split our sides laughing at the ninnies. You're so full of your jokes that I want you here. Dear Major, don't be engaged; but come. You will instantly do one of two things, either relinquish your attention to Miss Muslin, and be no more in her company; or meet me this evening precisely at six o'clock, on the commons the back of the Potter's-field, with a brace of pistols, and a second, to take a shot. I shall have a coffin ready, and a grave dug, for which ever of us shall have occasion to make use of it.
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348Author:  Brackenridge H. H. (Hugh Henry) 1748-1816Add
 Title:  Modern chivalry  
 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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349Author:  Brackenridge H. H. (Hugh Henry) 1748-1816Add
 Title:  Modern chivalry  
 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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350Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “My dear Champ—I have heard of your conduct, sir, and have no intention of being made the laughing-stock of my neighbors, as the father of a fool. No, sir! I decline being advised and pitied, and talked about and to by the country on your account. I know why you have left the Hall, sir, and taken up your residence in town. Alethea has told me how you insulted her, and flouted her well-meant advice, and because she entreated you, as your sister, not to go near that young woman again, tossed from her, and fell into your present courses. I tell you again, sir, that I will not endure your conduct. I won't have the parson condoling, and shaking his head, and sighing, and, when he comes in the Litany to pray for deliverance from all inordinate and sinful affections—from all the deceits of the world, the flesh, and the devil—have him looking at the Hall pew, and groaning, until every body understands his meaning. No, sir! If you make yourself a fool about that common actress, you shall not drag us into it. And Clare Lee! have you no regard for her feelings? Damn my blood, sir! I am ashamed of you. Come away directly. If you are guilty of any thing unworthy toward that young woman, I will strike your name from the family Bible, and never look upon your face again. Remember, sir; and you won't be fool enough to marry her, I hope. Try it, sir, and see the consequence. Pah! a common actress for my daughter— the wife of the representative of the house of Effingham, after my death. 'Sdeah, sir! it is intolerable, abominable; and I command you to return at once, and never look upon that young woman again. For shame, sir. Am I, at my age, to be made a laughing-stock of, to be jeered at by the common people, at the county court, as the father of the young man that played the fool with the actress? No, sir. Leave that place, and come and do what you are expected to do, called on to do—take Clare Lee to the Governor's ball. I inclose your invitation. Leave that woman and her artful seductions. Reflect, sir, and do your duty to Clare, like a gentleman. If it is necessary, I repeat, sir, I command you to return, and never see that girl again. “I have received your letter, sir, and decline returning to Effingham Hall, or being dictated to. I have passed my majority, and am my own master. No one on earth shall make a slave of me. “A man about to die, calls on the only Englishman he knows in this place, to do a deed of charity. Hallam, we were friends—a long time since, in Kent, Old England, and to you I make this appeal, which you will read when I will be cold and stiff. You know we were rivals—Jane chose to marry me! I used no underhand acts, but fought it fairly and like an honest soldier—and won her. You know it, and are too honest a man to bear me any grudge now. I married her, and we went away to foreign countries, and I became a soldier of fortune—now here—now there:—it runs in the family, for my father was covered with wounds. She stuck to me—sharing all my trials—my suffering—as she shared my fortunate days. She was my only hope on earth —my blessing:—but one day God took her from me. She died, Hallam, but she left herself behind in a little daughter —I called her Beatrice, at the request of her mother. The locket around the child's neck, is her mother's gift to her: preserve it. Well: we travelled—I grew sick—I came to Malta, here—I am dying. Already I feel the cold mounting from my feet to my heart—my eyes are growing hazy, as my hand staggers along—my last battle's come, comrade! Take the child, and carry her to my brother John Waters, who lives in London somewhere—find where he is, and tell him, that Ralph Waters sends his baby to him to take care of:—she is yonder playing on the floor while I am dying. I ask you to do this, because you are an honest man, and because you loved Jane once. I have no money—all I had is gone for doctor's stuff and that:—he couldn't stand up against death! Keep my military coat to remember me by —it is all I have got. As you loved her who was my wife, now up in heaven, take care of the child of an English soldier; and God reward you. “Please come to me.
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351Author:  Cooke John Esten 1830-1886Add
 Title:  The Virginia comedians, or, Old days in the Old Dominion  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “This indenture, made in the month of March, of the year of grace one thousand seven hundred and ninety-five, in the Colony of Virginia, Continent of North America,—” “Come over to `the Trap,' and dine and sleep with me. Be sure to be in trim to ride through a cane-brake, that is, in buff and leather: and ride Tom—the large piebald: he's a glorious animal, by George! “Oh my dear Miss Donsy! “I regret the harshness and passion of my address to you yesterday. I trust you will not permit it to remain in your recollection. I have no calmness on that subject, and for this reason must ask you never again to allude to it. I am afraid of myself. For God's sake! don't arouse the devil in me when I am trying to lull it, at the risk of breaking my heart in the attempt. This is an unhappy world, and devious are the ways thereof. Man—especially a rude fellow, morbleu!— knows not what to do often; he is puzzled; he hesitates and stands still. Do you ask me what I mean by this small moral discourse? Parbleu! I mean that I am the rude fellow and the puzzled man. Your letter is offensive—I will not make any derogatory agreement with you, sir. I would rather end all at once, and I hereby call on you to meet me, sir, this very day, at the Banks' Cross-roads. At five o'clock this evening, I shall await you. “Not simply `sir,' because you are what I have written—friend, companion. Let me out with what I would write at once—and in the best manner I can write it, being but a rude soldier, unused to handling the pen. “I accede to the request of Captain Waters. I know him for a brave soldier, and a most honorable man. I ask nothing more. The rest lies with my daughter. “I know what I have done is disgraceful, and horrible, and awful, and all that—but it was meant well, and I don't care what you may say; it has succeeded. The time to acknowledge the trick is come, and here goes. It went this way:
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352Author:  Ferguson Samuel Sir 1810-1886Add
 Title:  Father Tom and the pope, or, A night in the Vatican  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: 526EAF. [Page 015]. Head-piece that depicts a royal hunt for the white stag. There are groups of hunting dogs gathered around the cornered stag, with the lead hunter pressing his sword to its neck. There are other hunters gathered in the periphery.
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353Author:  Cozzens Frederic S. (Frederic Swartwout) 1818-1869Add
 Title:  Prismatics  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “The loveliest thing in life,” says a gifted author, “is the mind of a young child.” The most sensitive thing, he might have added, is the heart of a young artist. Hiding in his bosom a veiled and unspeakable beauty, the inspired Neophyte shrinks from contact with the actual, to lose himself in delicious reveries of an ideal world. In those enchanted regions, the great and powerful of the earth; the warrior-statesmen of the Elizabethan era; the steel-clad warriors of the mediæval ages; gorgeous cathedrals, and the luxuriant pomp of prelates, who had princes for their vassals; courts of fabled and forgotten kings; and in the deepening gloom of antiquity, the nude Briton and the painted Pict pass before his enraptured eyes. Women, beautiful creations! warm with breathing life, yet spiritual as angels, hover around him; Elysian landscapes are in the distance; but ever arresting his steps,—cold and spectral in his path,—stretches forth the rude hand of Reality. Is it surprising that the petty miseries of life weigh down his spirit? Yet the trembling magnet does not seek the north with more unerring fidelity than that “soft sentient thing,” the artist's heart, still directs itself amid every calamity, and in every situation, towards its cynosure—perfection of the beautiful. The law which guides the planets attracts the one; the other is influenced by the Divine mystery which called the universe itself into being; that sole attribute of genius—creation.
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354Author:  Cozzens Frederic S. (Frederic Swartwout) 1818-1869Add
 Title:  The sayings of Dr. Bushwhacker, and other learned men  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Sir,” said our learned friend, Dr. Bushwhacker, “we are indebted to China for the four principal blessings we enjoy. Tea came from China, the compass came from China, printing came from China, and gunpowder came from China—thank God! China, sir, is an old country, a very old country. There is one word, sir, we got from China, that is oftener in the mouths of American people than any other word in the language. It is cash, sir, cash! That we derive from the Chinese. It is the name, sir, of the small brass coin they use, the coin with a square hole in the middle. And then look at our Franklin; he drew the lightning from the skies with his kite; but who invented the kite, sir? The long-tailed Chinaman, sir. Franklin had no invention; he never would have invented a kite or a printing-press. But he could use them, sir, to the best possible advantage, sir; he had no genius, sir, but he had remarkable talent and industry. Then, sir, we get our umbrella from China; the first man that carried an umbrella, in London, in Queen Anne's reign, was followed by a mob. That is only one hundred and fifty years ago. We get the art of making porcelain from China. Our ladies must thank the Celestials for their tea-pots. Queen Elizabeth never saw a tea-pot in her life. In 1664, the East India Company bought two pounds two ounces of tea as a present for his majesty, King Charles the Second. In 1667, they imported one hundred pounds of tea. Then, sir, rose the reign of scandal—Queen Scandal, sir! Then, sir, rose the intolerable race of waspish spinsters who sting reputations and defame humanity over their dyspeptic cups. Then, sir, the astringent principle of the herb was communicated to the heart, and domestic troubles were brewed and fomented over the tea-table. Then, sir, the age of chivalry was over, and women grew acrid and bitter; then, sir, the first temperance society was founded, and high duties were laid upon wines, and in consequence they distilled whiskey instead, which made matters a great deal better, of course; and all the abominations, all the difficulties of domestic life, all the curses of living in a country village; the intolerant canvassing of character, reputation, piety; the nasty, mean, prying spirit; the uncharitable, defamatory, gossiping, tale bearing, whispering, unwomanly, unchristianlike behavior of those who set themselves up for patterns over their vile decoctions, sir, arose with the introduction of tea. Yes, sir; when the wine-cup gave place to the tea-cup, then the devil, sir, reached his culminating point. The curiosity of Eve was bad enough; but, sir, when Eve's curiosity becomes sharpened by turgid tonics, and scandal is added to inquisitiveness, and inuendo supplies the place of truth, and an imperfect digestion is the pilot instead of charity; then, sir, we must expect to see human nature vilified, and levity condemned, and good fellowship condemned, and all good men, from Washington down, damned by Miss Tittle, and Miss Tattle, and the Widow Blackleg, and the whole host of tea-drinking conspirators against social enjoyment.” Here Dr. Bushwhacker grew purple with eloquence and indignation. We ventured to remark that he had spoken of tea “as a blessing” at first. “Yes, sir,” responded Dr. Bushwhacker, shaking his bushy head, “that reminds one of Doctor Pangloss. Yes, sir, it is a blessing, but like all other blessings it must be used temperately, or else it is a curse! China, sir,” continued the Doctor, dropping the oratorical, and taking up the historical, “China, sir, knows nothing of perspective, but she is great in pigments. Indian ink, sir, is Chinese, so are vermillion and indigo; the malleable properties of gold, sir, were first discovered by this extraordinary people; we must thank them for our gold leaf. Gold is not a pigment, but roast pig is, and Charles Lamb says the origin of roast pig is Chinese; the beautiful fabric we call silk, sir, came from the Flowery Nation, so did embroidery, so did the game of chess, so did fans. In fact, sir, it is difficult to say what we have not derived from the Chinese. Cotton, sir, is our great staple, but they wove and spun long staple and short staple, yellow cotton and white cotton before Columbus sailed out of the port of Palos in the Santa Maria.” Dear Fredericus: A. Walther writ this in `quaint old sounding German.' It is done into English by your friend, My Dear Cozzens:—I had hoped to spend my vacation in quiet idleness, with a rigorous and religious abstinence from pen and ink. But I cannot refuse to comply with the request you urge so eloquently, placing your claim to my assistance not only on the ground of old friendship, but also as involving important objects, literary and scientific, as well as social and commercial; all of them (to repeat your phrase and Bacon's), “coming home to the business and bosoms of men.” My dear Editor:—I have been much amused in learning through the press, as well as from the more sprightly narrative of your private letter, that such and so very odd claims and conjectures had been made as to the authorship of my late hasty letter to you, in proof that the poets and gentlemen of old Greece and Rome drank as good champagne as we do. You know very well that the letter which you published was not originally meant for the public, and the public have no right at all to inquire who the author may be; nor, indeed, has the said impertinent public to inquire into the authorship of any anonymous article which harms nobody, nor means to do so. I have not sought concealment in this matter, nor do I wish notoriety. If any one desires the credit of the communication, such as it is, he or she is quite welcome to it until I find leisure to prepare for the press a collection of my Literary Miscellanies under my own name. I intend to embody in it an enlarged edition of this essay on the antiquity of champagne mousseux, with a regular chain of Greek and Latin authorities defending and proving all my positions.
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355Author:  Cummins Maria S. (Maria Susanna) 1827-1866Add
 Title:  El Fureidîs  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The sun was setting over that far-famed Eastern land, which, when the Most High divided unto the nations their inheritance, He gave unto his chosen people,—that land which the leader of Israel's hosts saw from afar, though he entered not in,—that land immortalized as the paradise of our earthly parents, the Canaan of a favored race, the birthplace and the tomb of prophets, the scene of Jehovah's mightiest works, the cherished spot whence the dayspring from on high has visited us, the blessed soil which the feet of the Prince of Peace have trod.
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356Author:  Curtis George William 1824-1892Add
 Title:  The Potiphar papers  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It is surely unnecessary to call the attention of so astute an observer, and so austere a critic, as yourself, to the fact that the title of the leading essay in this little volume (of which, permit me to say, you are so essential an ornament) is marked as a quotation; and a quotation, as you will very well remember, from the lips of our friend, Mrs. Potiphar, herself. If gilt were only gold, or sugar-candy common sense, what a fine thing our society would be! If to lavish money upon objets de vertu, to wear the most costly dresses, and always to have them cut in the height of the fashion; to build houses thirty feet broad, as if they were palaces; to furnish them with all the luxurious devices of Parisian genius; to give superb banquets, at which your guests laugh, and which make you miserable; to drive a fine carriage and ape European liveries, and crests, and coats-of-arms; to resent the friendly advances of your baker's wife, and the lady of your butcher (you being yourself a cobbler's daughter); to talk much of the “old families” and of your aristocratic foreign friends; to despise labour; to prate of “good society;” to travesty and parody, in every conceivable way, a society which we know only in books and by the superficial observation of foreign travel, which arises out of a social organization entirely unknown to us, and which is opposed to our fundamental and essential principles; if all this were fine, what a prodigiously fine society would ours be! My dear Caroline,—Lent came so frightfully early this year, that I was very much afraid my new bonnet à l'Impératrice would not be out from Paris soon enough. But fortunately it arrived just in time, and I had the satisfaction of taking down the pride of Mrs. Crœsus, who fancied hers would be the only stylish hat in church the first Sunday. She could not keep her eyes away from me, and I sat so unmoved, and so calmly looking at the Doctor, that she was quite vexed. But, whenever she turned away, I ran my eyes over the whole congregation, and would you believe that, almost without an exception, people had their old things? However, I suppose they forgot how soon Lent was coming. As I was passing out of church, Mrs. Croesus brushed by me: It certainly is not papa's fault that he doesn't understand French; but he ought not to pretend to. It does put one in such uncomfortable situations occasionally. In fact, I think it would be quite as well if we could sometimes “sink the paternal,” as Timon Crœsus says. I suppose every body has heard of the awful speech pa made in the parlor at Saratoga. My dearest friend, Tabby Dormouse, told me she had heard of it every where, and that it was ten times as absurd each time it was repeated. By the by, Tabby is a dear creature, isn't she? It's so nice to have a spy in the enemy's camp, as it were, and to hear every thing that every body says about you. She is not handsome,—poor, dear Tabby! There's no denying it, but she can't help it. I was obliged to tell young Downe so, quite decidedly, for I really think he had an idea she was good-looking. The idea of Tabby Dormouse being handsome! But she is a useful little thing in her way; one of my intimates. My Dear Mrs. Downe,—Here we are at last! I can hardly believe it. Our coming was so sudden that it seems like a delightful dream. You know at Mrs. Potiphar's supper last August in Newport, she was piqued by Gauche Boosey's saying, in his smiling, sarcastic way: I hear and obey. You said to me, Go, and I went. You now say, come, and I am coming, with the readiness that befis a slave, and the cheerfulness that marks the philosopher. I am very anxious that you should allow me to receive your son Frederic as a pupil, at my parsonage, here in the country. I have not lived in the city without knowing something about it, despite my cloth, and I am concerned at the peril to which every young man is there exposed. There is a proud philosophy in vogue that every thing that can be injured had better be destroyed as rapidly as possible, and put out of the way at once. But I recall a deeper and tenderer wisdom which declared, “A bruised reed will he not break.” The world is not made for the prosperous alone, nor for the strong. We may wince at the truth, but we must at length believe it,—that the poor in spirit, and the poor in will, and the poor in success, are appointed as pensioners upon our care.
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357Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  Honest John Vane  
 Published:  2000 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ONE of the most fateful days of John Vane's life was the day on which he took board with that genteel though decayed lady, the widow of a wholesale New York grocer who had come out at the little end of the horn of plenty, and the mother of two of the prettiest girls in Slowburgh, Mrs. Renssaelaer Smiles.
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358Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 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.
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359Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  Overland  
 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: By J. W. De Forest, Author of “Kate Beaumont,” etc.
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360Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 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.
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