| | 1 | Author: | Sargent
Epes
1813-1880 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Peculiar  | | | | 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 a small and somewhat faded room in an unpretending
brick house in one of the streets that intersect Broadway,
somewhere between Canal Street and the Park. A woman
sits at a writing-table, with the fingers of her left hand thrust
through her hair and supporting her forehead, while in her
right hand she holds a pen with which she listlessly draws
figures, crosses, circles and triangles, faces and trees, on the
blotting-paper that partly covers a letter which she has been
inditing. DEAR HENRY: You kindly left word for me to write
you. I have little of a cheering nature to say in regard
to myself. We have moved from the house in Fourteenth
Street into a smaller one nearer to the Park and to Mr. Charlton's
business. His complaints of his disappointment in regard
to my means have lately grown more bitter. Your allowance,
liberal as it is, seems to be lightly esteemed. The other day
he twitted me with setting a snare for him by pretending to be
a rich widow. O Henry, what an aggravation of insult! I
knew nothing, and of course said nothing, as to the extent of
your father's wealth. I supposed, as every one else did, that
he left a large property. His affairs proved to be in such a
state that they could not be disentangled by his executors till
two years after his death. Before that time I was married to
Mr. Charlton. “To Carberry Ratcliff, Esq.: — Sir: By the time this letter
reaches you I shall be out of your power, and with my freedom
assured. Still I desire to be at liberty to return to New
Orleans, if I should so elect, and therefore I request you to name
the sum in consideration of which you will give me free papers.
A friend will negotiate with you. Let that friend have your
answer, if you please, in the form of an advertisement in the
Picayune, addressed to “To Estelle: For fifty dollars, I will give you the papers
you desire. “What shall I call thee? Dearest? But that word implies
a comparative; and whom shall I compare with thee? Most
precious and most beloved? O, that is not a tithe of it! Idol?
Darling? Sweet? Pretty words, but insufficient. Ah! life
of my life, there are no superlatives in language that can interpret
to thee the unspeakable affection which swells in my
heart and moistens my eyes as I commence this letter! Can
we by words give an idea of a melody? No more can I put on
paper what my heart would be whispering to thine. Forgive
the effort and the failure. “Judge Onslow, late of Mississippi, and his son saved themselves
by swimming. Among the bodies they identified was
that of Mrs. Berwick of New York, wounded in the head.
From the nature of the wound, her death must have been instantaneous.
Her husband was badly scalded, and, on recognizing
the body of his wife, and learning that his child was
among the drowned, he became deeply agitated. He lingered
till the next day at noon. The child had been in the keeping
of a mulatto nurse. Mr. Burgess of St. Louis, who was saved,
saw them both go overboard. It appears, however, that the
nurse, with her charge in her arms, was seen holding on to a
life-preserving stool; but they were both drowned, though
every effort was made by Colonel Hyde, aided by Mr. Quattles
of South Carolina, to save them. “To Perdita: I shall not be able to see you again to-day.
Content yourself as well as you can in the company of
Mozart and Beethoven, Bellini and Donizetti, Irving and Dickens,
Tennyson and Longfellow. The company is not large, but
you will find it select. Unless some very serious engagement
should prevent, I will see you to-morrow. “Dear Brother: I have called, as you requested, on
Mr. Charlton in regard to his real estate in New Orleans.
Let me give you some account of this man. He is taxed for
upwards of a million. He inherited a good part of this sum
from his wife, and she inherited it from a nephew, the late Mr.
Berwick, who inherited it from his infant daughter, and this
last from her mother. Mother, child, and father — the whole
Berwick family — were killed by a steamboat explosion on the
Mississippi some fifteen or sixteen years ago. “Will you come and dine with me at five to-day without
ceremony? Please reply by the bearer. “I thank you for all the hospitality I have received at your
hands. Enclosed you will find my hotel bill receipted, also
five dollars for the use of such dresses as I have worn. With
best wishes for your mother's restoration to health and for your
own welfare, I bid you good by. “Stricken down by a death-wound, I write this. When it
reaches you, my son, you will be the last survivor of your
family. The faithful negro who bears this letter will tell you
all. You may rely on what he says. This crafty, this Satanic
Slave Power has — I can use the pen no longer. But I
can dictate. The negro must be my amanuensis.” “This Slave Power, which, for many weeks past, has been
hunting down and hanging Union men, has at last laid its
14 * U
bloody hand on our innocent household. Should you meet
Colonel A. J. Hamilton,*
* Late member of Congress from Texas. In his speech in New York
(1862) he said: “I know that the loyalists of Texas have died deaths not
heard of since the dark ages until now; not only hunted and shot, murdered
upon their own thresholds, but tied up and scalded to death with boiling
water; torn asunder by wild horses fastened to their feet; whole neighborhoods
of men exterminated, and their wives and children driven away.”
It is estimated by a writer in the New Orleans Crescent (June, 1863), that
at least twenty-five hundred persons had been hung in Texas during the preceding
two years for fidelity to the Union.
The San Antonio (Texas) Herald, a Rebel sheet of November 13th, 1862,
taunted the Unionists with the havoc that had been made among them! It
says: “They (Union men) are known and will be remembered. Their numbers
were small at first, and they are becoming every day less. In the
mountains near Fort Clark and along the Rio Grande their bones are bleaching
in the sun, and in the counties of Wire and Denton their bodies are
suspended by scores from black-jacks.”
Such are the shameless butchers and hangmen that Slavery spawns!
he will tell you something of what
the pro-slavery butchers have been doing. “The scoundrels have cut the telegraph wires, and we can't
communicate with the forts. I leave here at once to engage a
boat for the pursuit. Shall go in her myself. You must do
this one thing for me without fail: Take up your abode at
once, this very night, in my house, and stay there till I come
back. Use every possible precaution to prevent another escape
of that young person of whom I spoke to you. Do not
let her move a step out of doors without you or your agents
know precisely where she is. I shall hold you responsible for
her security. I may not be back for a day or two, in which
case you must have my wife's interment properly attended to. “Dear Mr. Vance: On leaving you at the Levee I drove
straight for the stable where my horses belonged. I passed
the night with my friend Antoine, the coachman. The next
day I went to your house, where I have stayed with those kind
people, the Bernards, ever since. “Do not think me fanciful, Mr. Vance, but the moment I
set eyes on this young woman the conviction struck me, She
is the lost Clara for whom we are seeking. The coincidence
of age and the fact that I have had the search of her on my
mind, may fully explain the impression. May. But you know
I believe in the phenomena of Spiritualism. Belief is not the
right word. Knowledge would be nearer the truth. “My dear little Granddaughter: This comes to you
from one to whom you seem nearer than any other she leaves
behind. She wishes she could make you wise through her
experience. Since her heart is full of it, let her speak it. In
that event, so important to your happiness, your marriage, may
you be warned by her example, and neither let your affections
blind your reason, nor your reason underrate the value of the
affections. Be sure not only that you love, but that you are
loved. Choose cautiously, my dear child, if you choose at all;
and may your choice be so felicitous that it will serve for the
next world as well as this. “Poor Peek, — rather let me say fortunate Peek! He fell
nobly, as he always desired to fall, in the cause of freedom and
humanity. His son, Sterling, is now with me; a bright, brave
little fellow, who is already a great comfort and help.” “My dear Cousin: I received last night your letter from
Meade's headquarters. 'T was a comfort to be assured you
escaped unharmed amid your many exposures. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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