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UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 (1)
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University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 (1)
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1Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Biddy Woodhull, or, The pretty haymaker  
 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 was a rude but pleasant farm-house situated on the green banks of one of the pleasant inlets that go meandering from the Sound far into the verdant bosom of West-chester County. It was one story high, with a broad, steep, moss-covered roof, over which an old oak spreads its wide branches, shielding it the whole day from the summer sun. An old `stoope' protected the door, and its rude columns were thickly clad with the entwiaing honey-suckle. Each end of the old black farm-house was also nearly covered, save where openings had been cut for the windows, with woodbine and other creeping plants. There was a neat vegetable garden at one end of the dwelling and a small orchard at the other, with the thatched roof of a long, low barn, seen in the distance. Before the door was a sort of lawn, on which the sheep, geese, turkies, and an old domestic cow, fed all day. This lawn was between the house and the pleasant creek, where stood a gate sheltered by a sycamore tree, through which the cattle were driven to water. All around was a scene of pleasant vale and wood-land, with elms and oaks bending low over the clear deep stream. On the opposite side were seen several farm-houses with shady walks along the banks between them, and a little ways below, on an eminence, was visible the white columns of a handsome country-seat, the summer residence of a wealthy New York merchant, who spent his winters only in the city, which was twenty miles distant. What a demnition time you are staying out South. What you can find to keep you there this dem hot weather one hour after your aunt's business is done for, unless some pretty pearl, I'm dem'd if I can tell! Every thing goes on just as ever. I had a glorious drive last Friday on the avenue with Bob-tailed Brown, harnessed single in my green buggy. Tom Weston had a new team out, a dem'd handsome thing altogether, and came behind me like a streak of lightning. But I touched Bob and left Tom half a mile in the rear as I drew rein at the Harlem tavern. Dem'd good that, wasn't it! I run over a sow and a litter of nine pigs. Did'nt the young 'uns scamper a few. I took off a goose's neck with my off wheel as neat as you could cut it with a knife. Tom swore Bob was the best bit o' horse flesh in New York. Saw a pretty gearl on the side-walk—looked like a rural—but I was too anxious to beat Tom Weston's mare to stop and ask her where she lived. Sunday went over to Hoboken and saw lots o' second quality class beauties, but couldn't do any thing in my way, as they always have some of those chaps with a bob coat, round slick hat with a narrow crape round it, their hair plaited down on each cheek, aad their bosoms open, and cuffs and shirt-wristbands turned back as if they were ready at any moment for a fight. I can't endure such vulgar people! though I don't mind a set-to, for I have the true science you know, Ned. Havn't been out of town yet, but I believe I shall go to Saratoga next month. Saratogo is getting to be low now that every shop-keeper that can command three dollars can go there.— These steamboats and railroads are getting to be great levellers, Ned. I think I must go to the White Sulphurs, they are the most exclusive. Low people can't afford to get there I saw your uncle last week in Broadway. He would have passed me without seeing me, but I stopped to ask him the name of the farmer on the farm next to his above on the creek where the rural lives. He told me it was Woodhull. If you don't come on soon I shall go down there and get up a little flirtation with her. I think she's too pretty to be suffered to grow there unnoticed like a sweet flower under a hedge. Well, I have no more to write. By the by, my friend M—ks has let his beard grow all over his chin and it looks dem'd fine. I think I shall follow his example. He is going to be confirmed at St. Thomas'. Religion is a nice thing for sick and old people, but it spoils life for your true blood!
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