| | 342 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Pretty Mrs. Gaston, and other stories  | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “Sir—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of
your communication of to-day on the subject of the late
Mr. Cleave's testamentary disposition of his estate, and
to express my regret that the discovery of the wishes of
the deceased in connection with Miss Bell should have
taken place after so long a period of time. As the friend
of the late Mr. Cleave, and if you will permit me to add,
as the friend of yourself, I would suggest, as your most
advisable course under all the circumstances, a prompt
compliance with the terms of the instrument referred
to. Miss Bell is, I am informed, a young lady of amiable
disposition and great personal attractions, and I have
no doubt would readily be brought to see the propriety
of the arrangement in question. “Amiable Mr. Allan Gartrell: Your unappreciated
friend, Mr. John Brown, presents his compliments,
and begs to state that not finding a longer stay at your
hospitable mansion agreeable to his feelings, he has reluctantly
concluded to tear himself away. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 343 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | Surry of Eagle's-nest, or, The memoirs of a staff-officer serving in Virginia | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Having returned to “Eagle's-Nest,” and hung up a dingy
gray uniform and batered old sabre for the inspection of my
descendants, I propose to employ some leisure hours in recording
my recollections, and describing, while they are fresh in my
memory, a few incidents of the late Revolution. “General:—Hold your ground only ten minutes longer, and
the enemy will fall back. I have captured a courier from General
Shields. His line is ordered to retire. “General:—The bearer, Major Surry, of my staff, is sent to
superintend the burial of my dead in the action yesterday, and
look after the wounded. I have the honor to request that he
may be permitted to pass your lines for that purpose. He will
give any parole you require. “Will you lend me Colonel Surry for three or four days? “Certainly. “For the sake of one who fell at Kelly's Ford, March 17th,
'63, an unknown Georgian sends you a simple cluster of young
spring flowers. You loved the `gallant Pelham,' and your
words of love and sympathy are `immortelles' in the hearts that
loved him. I have never met you, I may never meet you, but
you have a true friend in me. I know that sad hearts mourn
him in Virginia, and a darkened home in Alabama tells the sorrow
there. My friendship for him was pure as a sister's love, or
a spirit's. I had never heard his voice. “For some time now it has been plain to me that our engagement
is distasteful to you, and that you wish to be released from
it. Considering the fact that you gave me ample encouragement,
and never, until you met with a person whom I need not name,
showed any dissatisfaction at the prospect of becoming Mrs.
Baskerville, I might be justified in demanding the fulfilment of
your engagement. But I do not wish to coerce the action of
any young lady, however my feelings may be involved, and I scorn
to take advantage of a compact made in good faith by my late
father and myself. I therefore release you from your engagement. “I received your note. Thank you, sir! If I could have induced
you to write that letter by kneeling before you, I should
have knelt to you. “An unknown friend, who takes an interest in you, writes
these lines, to put you in possession of facts which it is proper
you should be acquainted with. “I have just had a visit from Mrs. Parkins, and she has made
some astonishing disclosures, of the deepest importance to you.
She declares that you have a son now living, and, before she left
me, I succeeded in discovering that you will be able to learn all
about him by visiting a Mrs. Bates, near Frederick City, Maryland,
who is in some way connected with this mysterious affair.
I think that Mrs. Parkins went to Maryland to inquire into this,
with the design of obtaining a reward from you—but she has
now left Elm Cottage, and I do not know where you will find
her. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 344 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | Title: | The youth of Jefferson, or, A chronicle of college scrapes at Williamsburg, in Virginia, A.D. 1764 | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | ON a fine May morning in the year 1764,—that is to
say, between the peace at Fontainebleau and the
stamp act agitation, which great events have fortunately
no connection with the present narrative,—a young man
mounted on an elegant horse, and covered from head to
foot with lace, velvet, and embroidery, stopped before a
small house in the town or city of Williamsburg, the
capital of Virginia. “You insulted a lady in my presence yesterday evening, and I demand
from you a retraction of all that you uttered. I am not skilled in
writing, but you will understand me. The friend who bears this will
bring your answer. “For you know you begin `Mr. Hoffland!' as if you said, `Stand
and deliver!'—I have read your note, and I am sure I shan't be able to
write half as well. I am so young that, unfortunately, I have never had
an affair, which is a great pity, for I would then know how to write
beautiful long sentences that no one could possibly fail to understand. “Your note is not satisfactory at all. I did not quarrel with your
opinion of yourself, and you know it. I was not foolish enough to be
angry at your declaring that you wer engaged to some lady already.
You spoke of a lady who is my friend, and what you said was insulting. “Stop!—I didn't say I was engaged to any lady: no misunderstanding. “I do not understand your note. You evade my request for an explanation.
I think, therefore, that the shortest way will be to end the
matter at once. “Oh, Mr. Denis, to shoot me in cold blood! Well, never mind! Of
course it's a challenge. But who in the world will be my `friend'?
Please advise me. You know Ernest ought not to—decidedly. He
likes you, and you seemed to like Miss Lucy, who must be a very sweet
girl as she is Ernest's sister. Therefore, as I have no other friend but
Ernest, I should think we might arrange the whole affair without
troubling him. I have been talking with some people, and they say I
have `the choice of weapons'—because you challenged me, you know.
I would rather fight with a sword, I think, than be shot, but I think we
had better have pistols. I therefore suggest pistols, and I have been
reading all about fighting, and can lay down the rules. “Your note is very strange. You ask me to advise you whom to
take as your second; and then you lay down rules which I never
heard of before. I suppose a gentleman can right his grievances without
having to fight first and marry afterwards. What you write is so
much like joking, that I do n't know what to make of it. You seem to
be very young and inexperienced, sir, and you say you have no friend
but Mowbray. “Joking, my dear fellow? Of course I was joking! Did you think
I really was in earnest when I said that I was so handsome, and was engaged
already, et cetera, and so forth, as one of my friends used to say?
I was jesting! For on my sacred word of honor, I am not engaged to
any one—and yet I could not marry Lucy. I am wedded already—to
my own ideas! I am not my own master—and yet I have no mistress! “I am very glad you were joking, and I am glad you have said so
with manly courtesy—though I am at a loss to understand why you
wished to `tease' me. But I do n't take offence, and am sure the whole
matter was a jest. I hope you will not jest with me any more upon
such a subject—I am very hasty; and my experience has told me that
most men that fall in duels, are killed for this very jesting. “Your apology is perfectly satisfactory.—But I forgot! I made
the apology myself! Well, it's all the same, and I am glad we have n't
killed each other—for then, you know, we would have been dead now. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 345 | Author: | Harte
Bret
1836-1902 | Add | | | Title: | Condensed Novels and Other Papers | | | | Published: | 2003 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | “My Dear Boy:—I regret to inform you that in all probability
you are not my son. Your mother, I am grieved to say, was a
highly improper person. Who your father may be, I really cannot
say, but perhaps the Honorable Henry Boltrope, Captain R.
N., may be able to inform you. Circumstances over which I have
no control, have deferred this important disclosure. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 347 | Author: | Brackenridge
H. H.
(Hugh Henry)
1748-1816 | Add | | | 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 |
| 350 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | 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 |
| 351 | Author: | Cooke
John Esten
1830-1886 | Add | | | 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 |
| 353 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | | 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 |
| 354 | Author: | Cozzens
Frederic S.
(Frederic Swartwout)
1818-1869 | Add | | | 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 |
| 355 | Author: | Cummins
Maria S.
(Maria Susanna)
1827-1866 | Add | | | 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 |
| 356 | Author: | Curtis
George William
1824-1892 | Add | | | 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 |
| 358 | Author: | De Forest
John William
1826-1906 | Add | | | 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 |
| 360 | Author: | De Forest
John William
1826-1906 | Add | | | Title: | Playing the mischief | | | | Published: | 2001 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | JOSEPHINE MURRAY was one of those
young women whom every body likes
very much on a first acquaintance. “My dear Friend”—her epistle ran—
“Why did you not take the kind trouble to
tell me all that with your own kind lips?
It would have been so much more friendly
on your part, and I should have understood
every thing so much better, and without the
worry of long pondering over it. I do hope
that you will call to see me soon, if only to
assure me that you are not annoyed. Cordially,
your friend, “My dear Uncle” (he read),—“I can
not tell you how keenly I regret that any
difference should have arisen between us. I
assure you that I set the very highest value
upon the good opinion and friendship of
yourself and my dear, excellent, generous
aunt. To recover your consideration and
kindness I would do more than for any other
object which I can conceive. I feel all
this the more deeply because I hear that
your wife is ill. Is it possible that I have
been in any way the cause of her sickness?
If so, it would comfort me very much to be
allowed to see her, and to tell her of my regret
and my lasting affection. Could she
grant me this favor, and could you sanction
it? Do pray have the goodness to let me
know whether this may be. Very affectionately,
your niece, “My dear Josie” (he wrote her),—“You
have not received me for two days past.
May I ask, in all kindness, if you have tired
of me? I must remember that your situation
has changed since the day I was happy
enough to secure the promise of your hand,
and the gift, as I then trusted, of your heart.
You were then in moderate circumstances;
you, perhaps, stood in need of a protector.
Now you are rich, and can suffice for yourself,
and can do without me. Do not, I earnestly
beg of you, suppose that I wish to get
free from my engagement, or that I could
part with you, even at your desire and for
your good, without great suffering. I only
wish to be kind, to be honorable, and to show
myself truly loving. For this reason alone,
and for the sole purpose of sacrificing myself,
if need be, to your happiness, I set you free
from your engagement. But to-morrow I
shall call again, shall beg to see a lady who
is now as much above me in fortune as in all
things else, and shall renew my offer of marriage.
Very respectfully and very lovingly,
yours, “My dearest Friend,—How could you
so misjudge me? Be sure you keep your
promise to come and see me. Those who know Mr. Drummond intimately,
and those who have had the startling good
fortune to listen to him in his moments of
épanchement, can imagine how he blasphemed
over this letter. One comment, however, is
sufficiently decorous for quotation, and sufficiently
keen to be worthy of it. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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