| | 1 | Author: | Brackenridge
H. H.
(Hugh Henry)
1748-1816 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Modern chivalry  | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | 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 buffaloe 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; 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 2 | Author: | Brown
Charles Brockden
1771-1810 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The novels of Charles Brockden Brown | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Genius and knowledge command respect; but superior
genius and profound knowledge, combined with exalted
moral purity, cannot fail to excite unmingled admiration.
The reputation of an author in whom these qualities are
united, may be circumscribed during life; but its rise and
extension after death, prove that his claim to distinction
are well founded. It is no less the duty than the pleasure
of friendship, to fortify and sustain these claims. The impartiality
of criticism cannot but confirm the anticipations of
affection. I feel little reluctance in complying with your request.
You know not fully the cause of my sorrows. You are a
stranger to the depth of my distresses. Hence your efforts
at consolation must necessarily fail. Yet the tale that I am
going to tell is not intended as a claim upon your sympathy.
In the midst of my despair, I do not disdain to contribute
what little I can to the benefit of mankind. I acknowledge
your right to be informed of the events that have lately happened
in my family. Make what use of the tale you shall
think proper. If it be communicated to the world, it will
inculcate the duty of avoiding deceit. It will exemplify the
force of early impressions, and show the immeasurable evils
that flow from an erroneous or imperfect discipline. "What shall I say to extenuate the misconduct of last
night? It is my duty to repair it to the utmost of my power,
but the only way in which it can be repaired, you will not,
I fear, be prevailed on to adopt. It is by granting me an
interview, at your own house, at eleven o'clock this night.
I have no means of removing any fears that you may entertain
of my designs, but my simple and solemn declarations.
These, after what has passed between us, you may deem
unworthy of confidence. I cannot help it. My folly and
rashness has left me no other resource. I will be at your
door by that hour. If you choose to admit me to a conference,
14
provided that conference has no witnesses, I will
disclose to you particulars, the knowledge of which is of
the utmost importance to your happiness. Farewell. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 3 | Author: | Brown
Charles Brockden
1771-1810 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The novels of Charles Brockden Brown | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I was resident in this city during the year 1793. Many
motives contributed to detain me, though departure was
easy and commodious, and my friends were generally solicitous
for me to go. It is not my purpose to enumerate
these motives, or to dwell on my present concerns and
transactions, but merely to compose a narrative of some
incidents with which my situation made me acquainted. Here ended the narrative of Mervyn. Surely its incidents
were of no common kind. During this season of
pestilence, my opportunities of observation had been numerous,
and I had not suffered them to pass unimproved.
The occurrences which fell within my own experience, bore
a general resemblance to those which had just been related,
but they did not hinder the latter from striking on my mind
with all the force of novelty. They served no end, but as
vouchers for the truth of the tale. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 4 | Author: | Brown
Charles Brockden
1771-1810 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The novels of Charles Brockden Brown | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I sit down, my friend, to comply with thy request. At
length does the impetuosity of my fears, the transports of my
wonder permit me to recollect my promise and perform it.
At length am I somewhat delivered from suspense and from
tremors. At length the drama is brought to an imperfect
close, and the series of events, that absorbed my faculties,
that hurried away my attention, has terminated in repose. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 5 | Author: | Brown
Charles Brockden
1771-1810 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The novels of Charles Brockden Brown | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | I am very far from being a wise girl. So conscience
whispers me, and though vanity is eager to refute the charge,
I must acknowledge that she is seldom successful. Conscience
tells me it is folly, it is guilt to wrap up my existence
in one frail mortal; to employ all my thoughts, to lavish all
my affections upon one object; to dote upon a human being,
who, as such, must be the heir of many frailties, and whom
I know to be not without his faults; to enjoy no peace but
in his presence, to be grateful for his permission to sacrifice
fortune, ease, life itself for his sake. "If you ever injured Mr. Talbot, your motives for doing
so, entitle you to nothing but compassion, while your present
conduct lays claim, not only to forgiveness, but to gratitude.
The letter you entrust to me, shall be applied to
no purpose but that which you proposed by writing it. Inclosed
is the paper you request, the seal unbroken and its
contents unread. In this, as in all cases, I have no stronger
wish than to act as | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 6 | Author: | Brown
Charles Brockden
1771-1810 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The novels of Charles Brockden Brown | | | | Published: | 2006 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | | | | Description: | Stephen Dudley was a native of New York. He was
educated to the profession of a painter. His father's trade
was that of an apothecary. But this son, manifesting an attachment
to the pencil, he was resolved that it should be
gratified. For this end Stephen was sent at an early age
to Europe, and not only enjoyed the instructions of Fuzeli
and Bartolozzi, but spent a considerable period in Italy, in
studying the Augustan and Medicean monuments. It was
intended that he should practice his art in his native city, but
the young man, though reconciled to this scheme by deference
to paternal authority, and by a sense of its propriety,
was willing, as long as possible to postpone it. The liberality
of his father relieved him from all pecuniary cares. His
whole time was devoted to the improvement of his skill in his
favorite art, and the enriching of his mind with every valuable
accomplishment. He was endowed with a comprehensive
genius and indefatigable industry. His progress was
proportionably rapid, and he passed his time without much
regard to futurity, being too well satisfied with the present to
anticipate a change. A change however was unavoidable,
and he was obliged at length to pay a reluctant obedience to
his father's repeated summons. The death of his wife had
rendered his society still more necessary to the old gentleman. An hour ago I was in Second street, and
saw you. I followed you till you entered the Indian Queen
Tavern. Knowing where you are, I am now preparing to
demand an interview. I may be disappointed in this hope,
and therefore write you this. Why do I write? For whose use do I pass my time thus?
There is no one living who cares a jot for me. There was a
time, when a throbbing heart, a trembling hand, and eager
eyes, were always prepared to read, and ruminate on the
scantiest and poorest scribble that dropped from my pen;
but she has disappeared; the veil between us is like death. I need not tell you, my friend, what I have felt, in consequence
of your silence. The short note which I received, a
fortnight after you had left me, roused my curiosity and my
fears, instead of allaying them. You promised me a longer
account of some mysterious changes that had taken place in
your condition. This I was to receive in a few days. At
the end of a week I was impatient. The promised letter did
not arrive. Four weeks passed away, and nothing came
from you. Yes; the narrative of Morton is true. The simple recital
which you give, leaves me no doubt. The money is
his, and shall be restored the moment he demands it. For
what I have spent, I must a little while be his debtor. This
he must consent to lose, for I never can repay it. Indeed,
it is not much. Since my change of fortune, I have not
been extravagant. A hundred dollars is the most I have
laid out, and some of this has been in furniture, which I
shall resign to him. "I shall not call on you at Hatfield. I am weary of traversing
hills and dales; and my detention in Virginia being
longer than I expected, shall go on board a vessel in this
port, bound for New York. Contract, in my name, with
your old friend, for the present accommodation of the girls,
and repair to New York as soon as possible. Search out
No.—, Broadway. If I am not there to embrace you,
inquire for my wife or daughter, and mention your name.
Make haste; the women long to see a youth in whose education
I had so large a share; and be sure, by your deportment,
not to discredit your instructer, and belie my good
report. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 8 | Author: | Brackenridge
H. H.
(Hugh Henry)
1748-1816 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 11 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 12 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Requires cookie* | | | 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: | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 14 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 15 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 16 | Author: | Cummins
Maria S.
(Maria Susanna)
1827-1866 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 17 | Author: | Curtis
George William
1824-1892 | Requires cookie* | | | 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. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 19 | 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 |
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