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201Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  Cromwell  
 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: “I have received your kind and most consoling letter of July from the tried friend who bore it. The wisdom of your counsels I acknowledge, and, so far as in me lies, will follow them. But, trust me, girl, better and brighter days are yet in store for us. I do assure you I am even now more king —more powerful and free—than ere I raised my standard; so that I doubt not, with a little patience and a small share of finesse, all shall be yet as we would have it. I am now courted by all parties— English and Scottish—Presbyterians, Independents —parliament and army—all prostrate at my feet— all rivals for my favour, and balanced, too, so equally, that whom I join soever carries the day. In truth, chiefly do I incline toward the Scots, but, for the present, seem, for my own purposes, to favour more the army. In the end, whosoe bids the highest has me. You disapprove, you tell me, my `promising so much to those two villains, Ireton and Cromwell.' Now, I beseech you, be not alarmed nor troubled; but leave me to manage, who am informed far better of all circumstances than you by any means can be; and on this head rest altogether easy, for in due season I shall know how to deal with these rogues, who, for a silken garter, shall be fitted with a hempen rope! This by a mode that can by no chance fail; where, fore, though briefly—as my space compels—I yet write plainly. If all things prosper with me, as I have now good cause to deem they will—for all the factions, themselves cozened, look on the others as outwitted—I shall once more embrace the well-beloved queen and mistress of my heart, greater and far more powerful than ever, ere many months shall pass, in our own palace of Whitehall.
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202Author:  Cypress J. 1803-1841Add
 Title:  Sporting scenes and sundry sketches  
 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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203Author:  Cypress J. 1803-1841Add
 Title:  Sporting scenes and sundry sketches  
 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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204Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  The Roman traitor  
 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: Midnight was over Rome. The skies were dark and lowering, and ominous of tempest; for it was a sirocco, and the welkin was overcast with sheets of vapory cloud, not very dense, indeed, or solid, but still sufficient to intercept the feeble twinkling of the stars, which alone held dominion in the firmament; since the young crescent of the moon had sunk long ago beneath the veiled horizon.
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205Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  The Roman traitor  
 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: In a small street, not far from the Sacred Way and the Roman Forum, there was a large house, occupying the whole of one insula, as the space contained between four intersecting streets was called by the ancients.
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206Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  Pierre, the partisan  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It wanted an hour or two of sunset on a lovely evening in the latter part of September, when a single horseman might have been seen, making his way to the westward, across the high dry prairie land, which lies between the upper portion of the river Nueces and the Bravo del Norte.
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207Author:  Herbert Henry William 1807-1858Add
 Title:  The deerstalkers, or, Circumstantial evidence  
 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: In one of the south-western counties of New York, one of those, I mean, which lie between the Hudson and the Delaware, and along the eastern or Mohawk's branch of the latter river, there is a great tract of wild and thinly settled land, well watered and well wooded, and well peopled by those tribes of fur and feather which are so keenly sought by the true sportsman, though, for the most part, human habitations are few and far between.
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208Author:  Hoffman Charles Fenno 1806-1884Add
 Title:  Greyslaer  
 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: TO WILLIAM DUER, OF OSWEGO, THESE VOLUMES ARE INSCRIBED BY HIS EARLY FRIEND, THE AUTHOR. “An hour after midnight, be near the fallen sycamore which crosses the brook within a few paces of your wigwam. The Indian girl will conduct you to an interview with
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209Author:  Hoffman Charles Fenno 1806-1884Add
 Title:  Greyslaer  
 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: “You will probably, before reading this, have surmised the cause why I have withdrawn from beneath a roof which has never sheltered dishonour. Oh! my friend—if so the wretched Alida may still call you—you cannot dream of what I have suffered while delaying the execution of a step which I believe to be due alike to you and to myself; but the state of my health would not sooner admit of putting my determination in execution, and I knew there would be full time for me to retire before you could come back to assume the government of your household. That determination is never to see you more. Yes, Greyslaer, we are parted, and for ever........The meshes of villany which have been woven around me it is impossible to disentangle. My woman's name is blasted beyond all hope of retrieval, and yours shall never be involved in its disgrace. I ask you not to believe me innocent. I have no plea, no proof to offer. I submit to the chastening hand of Providence. I make no appeal to the love whose tried and generous offices might mitigate this dreadful visitation. I would have you think of me and my miserable concerns no more. God bless you, Max! God bless and keep you; keep you from the devices of a proud and arrogant spirit, which Heaven, in its wisdom, hath so severely scourged in me; keep you from that bitterest of all reflections, the awful conviction that your rebellious heart has fully merited the severest judgments of its Maker. God bless and keep you, dearest, dearest Max. “In the matter of Derrick de Roos, junior, and Annatie, the Indian woman; deposition as to the parentage of Guise or Guisbert, their child, born out of wedlock, taken before Henry Fenton, justice of the peace, &c., certified copy, to be deposited with Max Greyslaer, Esquire, in testimony of the claim which the said child might have upon his care and protection, as the near friend and ward of Derrick de Roos, senior, who, while living, fully acknowledged such claim, in expiation of the misdeeds of his son.
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210Author:  Hoffman Charles Fenno 1806-1884Add
 Title:  Wild scenes in the forest and prairie  
 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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211Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Captain Kyd, or, The wizard of the sea  
 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: “Lady Lester—nay, mother—dearest MOTHER! I have just taken my last leave of you. I go forth into the world and commit my fortune to its currents. Baseborn — guilty-born — attainted by my father's crimes, I am unworthy your love or a place in your thoughts. Henceforward let me be nothing to thee! Forget that I have ever existed. Though I depart, yet is Lester not without an heir! you not without a son! Thy child thou wilt find with the fisherman Meredith, at Castle Cor. He is the perfect semblance of thy husband, Robert, Lord of Lester, as you have described him to me; and, when your eyes behold him, your heart will at once claim him. He is proud and high-spirited, and worthy of the name he is destined to bear. Seek him out; and may he fill the place in your heart from which I am for ever excluded. Farewell, my mother, for other mother than thee have I never known—will never know!
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212Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The quadroone, or, St. Michael's day  
 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: Reader! If thou art one of those rigidists who look for a moral in a story, and seek after instruction in a legend; who expect a homily in a nursery-tale, and demand a moral treatise in a fiction; who deem it sinful to entertain the imagination without improving the heart, and regard as vanity whatever administers to the taste and captivates the fancy, then close these volumes with the reading of this paragraph; for they will neither humour thee in thy prejudices, nor strengthen thee in thy philosophy. Yet, if thou canst be content to admire the lily upon its stalk, and the rose on its stem, and will cease to search longer for fruits amid flowers, thou mayst then turn in a right spirit to these pages; and, should they fail to improve thy morals, to add either grace to thy mind or dignity to thy intellect, they may, perchance, have the no less pleasing power of imparting cheerfulness to thy brow, of communicating warmth to thy bosom, and of infusing new sensibilities into thy soul; and while they spiritualize thy imagination, they may not leave altogether untouched thy heart. “You are ordered to have your command under arms half an hour before sunrise. At sunrise you will re ceive orders to sack the town. The public buildings and dwellings on the Place d'Armes are to be spared. “The order issued at midnight is countermanded.
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213Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The quadroone, or, St. Michael's day  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The ease and affability of the Count of Osma soon thawed the ice of ceremony and suspicion with which the councillors at first received the honour that had been so graciously extended towards them; and even the president, as the banquet proceeded, began to think his suspicions hasty and ill-grounded. All doubts, however, of honourable purpose of the governor were not effectually banished; and occasionally they flashed back upon his mind with redoubled force, as some sinister word or look would betray itself through his guarded language or manner. That the Spaniard was playing a double part, he was well satisfied; and, though his address and bearing invited confidence, he felt that, in yielding it, he was playing with an adder in his bosom.
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214Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Edward Austin, or, The hunting flask  
 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: By the side of one of those romantic trout-streams that are embosomed in the glens of New-England, was to be seen, just before sunset of an afternoon in September, 1841, a group composed of three figures. The place in which they were was deeply secluded. Around them rose the huge columnar trunks of a forest which had been ancient when the first Pilgrim Father set his foot upon the western shores. Through the forest, which covered upland and intervale, flowed the dark wild waters of the brook, upon the banks of which they were assembled. The forest was solemn and grand, and its long vistas seemed like the huge gothic aisles of an old-world cathedral. The brook gambolled through this fine old wood in many a wanton circle, now sweeping swiftly around a smooth-faced rock, and now dividing to embrace huge oaks, whose heavy wide-spread branches dipped into the flood. In the darkest part of the wood it fell tumbling over ragged rocks in snow-white cataracts that glittered and flashed like silver contrasting the deep green and blackness of the shadows around. `Sir,—Having withdrawn my money from bank, I withdraw myself from the firm. Ask me for no explanations; for I have none to give. I have chosen my own course and must abide by it. `Sir,—Last night you made use of language to me, which, as a gentleman I cannot pass by. An apology is due to me; and I trust that you will not hesitate to render one in the most unqualified manner to my friend Mr. Frederick Levis, who will be the bearer of this note to you. `Sir: My friend, Mr. Levis, is authorized to arrange on my behalf, with any friend you may name, the preliminaries usual in settling affairs between gentlemen holding, in relation to each other, the position we now do. `Sir,—These men bring you the body of Mr. Edward Austin who fell this evening, just after sunset, in a duel with small swords at Hoboken.
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215Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Fanny, or, The hunchback and the roué  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The Charles river flows through many a sweet vale in its inland meanderings; mirrors upon its bosom many a dark hill of wood and rock; conveys beauty and grace to many a fair scene of upland and lowland; and flows calmly and brightly past many a peaceful cot and pleasant village! But the vale of Rose Mead is the fairest of all its vallies; its banks and wooded heights the most beautiful, which it mirrors upon its bosom; the fairest of all others are its scenes of upland and lowland; more peaceful the cottage-homes which share its grace and beauty; and, lovelier than all the pleasant villages past which it flows in calmness and brightness, is that of Hillside. I have at last seen the ideal of all that my most glowing fancy has pictured, woman! I have within the half hour, beheld the realization of all the beautiful creations of my imagination, when I have loved to conceive in my thoughts, the beautiful, the true and the good in one! Such a face as has ever appeared in my happiest dreams of boyhood, when forms of love and beauty would float around me; and when I heard her speak the tones were familiar, like the voices of the beautiful ones who have spoken to me in my hours of fancy! But you are full of curiosity to know who I have seen! That I cannot tell, for her history is a mystery. She is an orphan. I saw her in the yard of the Inn in this village, as I alighted from my horse! Her beauty and grace, had an effect upon me that was irresistible! You well know, dear, good mother, that I am not susceptible, and that few females have drawn from me expressions of admiration! you know I am not easily impressable by mere female loveliness.' She was conveying a burden, all too weighty for her strength, and I tendered my assistance, which she thanked me for with a sweet, yet timid, gratitude that went to my heart. Her mistress, the hostess, observed the act and my sympathy, and poured upon me a torrent of invectives, saying the cruel task was imposed upon the maiden by her orders! She was a virago, and I saw was a tyrant. My heart bled for the young girl; and of one near by I inquired her history. He told me that her parents had arrived from England during the cholera season, and had died in the village; when the landlord of the Inn, now dead, had adopted her; but that since his decease the widow had made a servant of her. He said the parents were evidently very genteel people, but that no one knew their names, and that the child only went by that of `Fanny.' I have met her—spoken with her, and—but I will not anticipate. I must forestal your opinion, at the first, that `she could not be a discreet maiden to meet a stranger.' She got my note, but did not meet me in consequence of it. So rigidly is she kept at labor that she had no opportunity to learn its contents till the moon rose, when she stole out by her mother's grave, to open it by moonlight. I saw her graceful figure kneeling by the grave-side, for I had been lingering near, with hope, and approached near enough to hear her soliloquize upon the contents of my note. I heard her say, `no, no, I may not meet him—kind, generous as he seems to be. No— I cannot accede to his request!' I drew nearer, and she recognized me, and would have fled. But I detained her with gentle and eloquent appeal. She grew trusting and remained to listen to me. I urged her to fly her bondage, and offered her, dear mother, your protection. But she was firm—but finally promised, if some evil which she did not name, but which she dreaded would come upon her, should befal her, she would then avail herself of my proffer of your roof, if you came for her; and this you must do.— What propriety in all her conduct! But if I was charmed with her sweet, maidenly modesty, I was enchanted with the character of her lovely and natural mind. I wish you could have heard her speak her thoughts. Her language is pure and singularly expressive of every shade of feeling. She is an extraordinary character, and I wish you to see and know her. The study—a brief but sweet lesson it was—of her mind to-night, has opened to me a new world of beauty. She is as pure and guileless as a child of seven—yet she is seventeen or eighteen. She soon grew more confiding, and opened her soul's treasures to me. What a mine of unworked gold lay in the foundation of her being. She is a very gentle and single spirit. She talked in a strange, sweet, low voice, like one musing aloud, and I listened breathless, as to pure and spiritual communication. Her words recalled the thoughts and hopes of my early years, and such as I love to indulge when in my better hours. I thought then, as I listened, 'tis for such thoughts as these, alone, we exist. How wide the contrast of their singleness with the double-minded wordiness of the cautious and courteous world. She is a wild, beautiful, gentle creature; for these opposite terms just suit her. She is heart-aspiring, and loves to soar into the new and the unrealized. She is full of fanciful memories, and discourses sweetly and gravely of what she calls her `Fanciful Life.' You should listen to her to know her. Blessings on her generous and confiding heart; blessings on her delightful fancy, which creates only to love. Let her trust in them to the end, and without end, whilst they are so pure and hallowing. I have heard that gigantic thinker, R. Waldo Emerson, say, `nothing is so natural as the supernatural.' The body stands in the soul's light, and casts a shadow upon it, and the world of minds is in twilight kept out of its best powers and possessions. This pure, artless girl has it always sunshine at her heart. One pure spirit broods over all her thoughts. Her existence seems divine in human. She lives in an ideal world of ever changing beauty, and every word she utters enriches the soul of the listener. But most I value her for is the loveliness of her piety. There is a holy and perpetual Sabbath at her heart which is the house of peace. You will say, my dear mother, that such a person may be a shrine fit, perhaps, to receive the votaries of worshippers of the ideal and the beautiful, but not a suitable friend and companion for common life. But this peace and heart-spirituality is consistent with the most useful activity.— Here is the piety of character, not of habit. I love the seclusion of her spirit—the gentle fancies of her inner life—the fresh upspringings of her untaught thoughts which come from unfathomed fountains in her soul. teryble materss iss hapendd sinss you wass heer vitch iss wot korses me phor too tak mi penn inn han witch iss a badd wunn andd so i hop youle xkus thee spelinn andd itts thiss wot's hapendd Phany hass loped andd I cutt Gon Hamersmith chin andd he nokt Snipp our tayllur ovr inntu mi slopp tubb but ile tel you thee pertiklars ov wots hapendd Snipp tels itt furs tu mee andd i cuts Gon the smyth andd hee noks himm ovurr phannys run awa andd noe mystak cozz thee roape wos foun she hangd hurselff with oute ov thee widers 2 stora windur and itt wos foun ther andd shee wosnt foun andd thatts wots hapendd andd itts inn ev boddis mouth andd noe bodi noes wots beekum ov hur, norr i Snipp sedd a koche tuk hurr off, butt thatts wun ov Snippes lise andd hes a grat lierr andd dyrnks vich i donte, nott nevur taikin butt wun tum'lar ov agg-popp—no twass jinger popp, wich gutt inter mi hedd wich iss troo forr i sorr hur traks undur thee windurr andd thee bedd kordd twass 12 larste nite wen shee runn awa andd itss nou 01 inn the phoarnun i maik no dela butt rite rite orf hopin yool com rite doune orr rite orr heare phrom phahny phor thars no mistaik shes sloapt. After the most persevering efforts I have at last got on the scent of the hare. A person answering her description came in town the morning after the night you said she escaped in a stage, and got out at the tavern in Brattle street. She was seen to go into a negro's in Ethiopian Row, and then to go out with him up the street. I have been in the black's, whose name is Pompey Slack; but he is as mysterious as a fortune-teller, and gravely shakes his woolly head, and wants to know my business `wid her.' Your money will get it out of him. I send, as you instructed me to do, a carriage for you; call for me, and I will accompany you there. I am sure we are on the track. I reply to your letters in one. I cannot yet visit you. My mind is made up to prosecute this search. Since I wrote you of her escape I have been to Hillside, but could glean no intelligence of her. I, however, saw there a person whom I suspect has had something to do with her flight. If so, I despair! I have been seeking him at his house, and every where, to accuse him, and demand her at his hands, and to punish him if she be lost to me, which God forbid. I hope every thing, yet I fear every thing. He is in town but keeps himself close. I am more and more persuaded that he has something to do with her flight, and that she has been deceived. I rode hard after him the night he left Hillside, but could not overtake him before he reached town. If I had have done so, I should have known all; for I would have drawn the truth from him with his life. He is one of those despicable wretches, who, aided by wealth and leisure, and being destitute of principle, pass all their time in seeking the indulgence of the lowest vices, and directing all their skill and talent to ensnaring the young and beautiful of your sex. I go out again to pursue my inquiries, though with little hope of success. That she is in Boston I know, for such a person was seen at the inn to get out of one of the stages; and while I write she is probably in the snares of this heartless scoundrel. But hope of the best buoys me up. She is too lovely and pure for me to harbor the idea of her ruin. I will write you again; but do not ask me to visit you or study till I have pursued this matter to the end. I am once more going to the tavern in Brattle street, to seek a clue.
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216Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Howard, or, The mysterious disappearance  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It was on a bright, breezy morning early in June, 1801, that the signal for getting underweigh was fired from a flag ship of a fleet of vessels of war riding at anchor in Hampton Roads. The fleet consisted of three frigates and a small gun-brig of twelve guns. The frigates were unequal in size and weight of metal. The largest was the `President' 44; the next the `Philadelphia' 38; and the smallest one the `Essex,' 32. They had the day before dropped down to their anchorage ready for sea. Their destination was the Mediterranean. `When you return, dear Duncan, we shall have much more of each other's society than before; for Isabel Sumpter has taught me to love in-door pursuits. Would you believe it! I can sit in a room with her a whole morning, without any wish to go out, shine the sun never so brightly. The other day when I was walking with her, `Belt' started a hare and instead of joining him in the chase, I called the dog away, because Isabel was talking, and I had rather listen to her. I think she has grown much more beautiful. Her step is just like a deer's! and every motion is as graceful as a fawn's! I think when you see her you will fall in love with her. I am sure I love her she is so very lively and entertaining always. I dont know what I should do without her, she is such clever company. She can shoot a rifle nearly as well as I can, and is a most accomplished fisherman, or fisherwoman, perhaps I ought to say. I am glad you are to take your degree and come home so soon. We shall have fine times! Father, says something about sending you to England; but I think you have got learning enough for one head! There are a great many things I dont know, that I find Isabel knows, but I get along very well; though sometimes, she condescends to enlighten my ignorance, at which times I am, she says, a very apt scholar. It is so pleasant to be taught by a pretty girl! You had better come home and be her pupil, than go any where else. Five words from her give me more insight into a thing than a whole book would do! You didn't have an opportunity in the little time you were here, of knowing her so well as I do, and I want you to see how she has improved in the year you have been absent. But I am engaged to ride with her to the cliff-head at five o'clock, and it is now half past four. So good bye.'
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217Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The gipsy of the Highlands, or, The Jew and the heir  
 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: About half an hour after the sun had set on a clear, starry evening in September, 182—, a small boat, pulled by a single oarsman, shot out from a deep cove, just above the Highlands, and rowed along the shore in the direction of a gray stone villa, situated on the river's bank, half a mile above. The oarsman was a young man of fair complexion and slight in person; but there was an expression in his clear blue eye of mingled pride and resolution. He was dressed in a plain dark frock, without pretension to style; and beside him, for he rowed bareheaded, was laid a sort of foraging cap, rudely made of the skins of squirrels, trophies of his own skill at the rifle. The expression of his countenance was cheerful and animated; and, as he pulled the light skiff over the glassy surface, he bummed the air of `Bonny Boat' in a low and musical voice, to the measure of which the regular `clack' and dip of his slender oars, chimed in not unmusical accompaniment. I herewith order you to return forthwith to Kirkwood. I have learned, that you have been pursuing a course of extravagance in the city, that can only be kept up by debt—as I have been careful never to allow you the means of dissipation. When I forgave you, for resigning without my leave from West Point, it was on the condition that you remained quietly at home, to look after the place. Till you are twenty-one, which is yet six months off, I at least have the control over you, and mean to exercise it; and if you expect any thing of me, after you are of age, you will now comply with my wishes. My health is poorly, and your ungrateful conduct by no means improves it. Your note for the pair of bays sold you, comes due tomorrow. Your account, up to the first of the month, has been due some days. You will oblige by adjusting this morning, Thankful for your past custom we have the honor of enclosing your account for the last quarter, which it would be quite a convenience to us to have adjusted today. The note for the Stanhope and harness, bought of me in June, is due today. You will confer a favor by calling and settling it. Your three notes, of $500, 1000, and 2000 are due 5-9 Inst. `There is the order on him — “Dear Father: By paying Jacob Goldschnapp, or order, six thousand dollars, thirty days from date, you will oblige your dutiful son, `My dear Jacor,—I am confoundedly surprised this morning by the `old gentleman' dropping in upon me before I was up. He has come down to the city to look after me, so he says. We have made matters up and I am to go home with him or lose Kirkwood. If you can possibly do anything for me with him, come and dine with me, at 2 o'clock. I choose this early hour on account of his habits. I have some curiosity, I confess, to see how you are to do about that draft. If you are successful, I shall have to call on you again for a larger amount, for I am in a scrape again! Don't disappoint me—at 2—remember! My respects to pretty Ruth. `You are desired to call, without delay, to see a gentleman at the City Hotel, who wishes to make his will. Every moment is important. The servant will conduct you.'
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218Author:  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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219Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Black Ralph, or, The helmsman of Hurlgate  
 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: In contemplating the interesting scenes and events of the American Revolution, we are accustomed to view them as only affecting ourselves as Americans, and as occurring only within the boundaries of our own land; so that a story of the `Revolution' to be laid in England or France would at first view startle and appear an incongruity of history. Yet the one being our foe and the other our ally, closely involve their interests as individuals with ours and throw as profound a degree of sympathy over the progress and issue of events on the common theatre of war, as if their own fields had been the scenes of contest. The war of the Revolution produced in the vales and homes of England and the vine-clad hills of France, many a scene of domestic trial and woe as touching as was daily witnessed among the rude forest homes of our own land. Brave warriors parted from wives and sweethearts in sunny France to join the issue with us for liberty; many a gallant soldier bade last adieus to a weeping maiden. ere, obedient to his king, he buckled on his sword to sail the seas to do battle against the rebels of the crown; and many a hardy patriot of our fathers shouldered his rifle, amid prayers and tears, to take the field to oppose the invader. Yet, beneath their armed breasts they wore human hearts all—the foe, the ally, and the rebel! The tears of the one fell as sweetly in the eye of Pity as the other! The roar of every battle-field shook France and England as well as our own land, penetrating the remotest hamlet, and making many an expecting heart shrink. the pulses of the three great nations were for the time bound together and throbbed as one. The interest of each was equally deep, where wives, mothers, and maidens were the judges of that interest. The war was one—the issue one to theme! And many is the tale still heard beneath the vintnor's porch in la belle France, whose theme is the war of our Revolution, and many is the sad memory of that contest yet preserved on the gossip bench of many a village ale-house in merry England. How many were the lives at that day, began in Europe that terminated in America. If every man's life, fairly written, be a romance out-doing fiction, how many thousands of truthful stories in that war opened in England or France to close their scenes here—perhaps in blood. Sir—You are commanded by the Minister of War, to give passage to America, to M. St Clair Lorraine, a Colonel, and bearer of private despatches to the Marquis de la Fayette. Dearest Madeline—I find the scheme I suggested when I was fastening on you your bracelet this afternoon, wholly impracticable for many reasons. I have determided to take passage in the same ship with you as M. St. Clair Lorraine, bearer of despatches, and meet my ship in America, where it is to join lord Howe. I have written for, and shall obtain leave, and in the mean time anticipate it. Betray no surprise or recognition on meeting me in the morning at table. I look forward to a happy passage across the Atlantic in your sweet society. You will think I am an audaucious intriguer; but what will not love undertake for its object?
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220Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  Ellen Hart  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The bell in the tower of the `Old South' church was tolling heavily and loud the strokes for nine o'clock, as a Watchman came upon his `beat on the corner of W — Place. It was a cold, cloudy night, late in November, and his large box-coat was closely buttoned up to his throat and his winter cap drawn low over his ears and forehead. With his rattle hanging upon his wrist and a short club in his grasp he began to pace his round into Summer street. The wind came howling through the cross avenues of the town westward, causing the passengers on the walks to bend low to it and with the cape of the cloak shield their faces from its piercing effects.— The street lamps burned more brightly than usual in the clear atmosphere, but at intervals, agitated by the wind which found its way through the frame of the lantern, would flicker and cast dancing shadows across the streets and along the side-walks. Ashy-hued clouds were driving along the gloomy sky, opening now and then to let a star shine through for an instaut and then disappear. Few persons were in the streets and the hacks and cabs that passed, went at a furious rate over the icy ground, as if the drivers were willing to exchange as soon as possible their bleak elevation for a seat in the warm bar-room adjoining their `stand.' $12,000. `Henry Hart having this day taken into copartnership of business, Crockett Creech, the Firm will henceforth bear the designation of `Hart and Creech.' Your endorsement upon the enclosed note for — at — days will oblige,
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