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221Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Steel belt, or The three masted goleta  
 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 waters of Boston Bay slept without a ripple. The round green isles that swell here and there from its bosom were reflected in dark blue masses and bold outlines beneath the surface. It was near sunset. The skies were suffused and glowing with molten gold, and the waters were no less gorgeous than the sky. `As face answers to face in a glass,' so the mirror-like bay gave back the green islands, the golden firmament and the empurpled clouds that magnificently curtained the West. By inclining the head a little one could see another world beneath the wave. A soft haze, such as is peculiar to a September sunset blended sky and sea, and communicated a dreamy, pleasing indistinctness to the horizon. The domes and towers of the distant city enthroned upon her Three Hills; the stately edifices on the wide sweeping shores of the Bay; the fortresses upon its islands, all, were tinted with the richest light, reflected from the sunset sky and clouds; and the hundred vessels of every size and class that lay beclamed amid the scene, seemed to have exchanged their snow-white canvass for sails of purple and of gold.
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222Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The diary of a hackney coachman  
 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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223Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The midshipman, or, The corvette and brigantine  
 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 sun had just set behind a terrace of purple clouds, edged with silver and lined with ermine, and gently the shadows of a mellow twilight were stealing over the bright blue waters of the harbor of Portsmouth. Not a zephyr stirred the pendulous leaf of the feathery elm, or mottled the placid surface of the waters of the small but beautiful bay, with its islands like emeralds in a setting of turquoise, rivalling the sunny green of its pleasant shores. The sun had been down some minutes, yet the skies were as rich with the beautiful dyes as the inner surface of an Indian pearl shell. The waters, like a mirror of steel, caught the rosy colors, and blending and softening them, reflected them back more beautiful still. The roofs and turrets and spires of the old town were yet glowing and rich from the lavish treasures of painted light, which the sun scattered behind him as he departed, and the cot of the poor man was for awhile more gorgeously decorated with mingled orange and crimson, than an eastern palace of pearls and rubies. But the glories of twilight gradually faded as the gray shadows of evening rose up from the sea, and crept upon the land, and covered the green hill tops, till a quiet, sober hue rested upon water and land, and veiling the sky let the stars be seen. Yet it was not night, but twilight lingering between sunset and night; for the outlines of the roofs, the spires, the distant villas, the remote hills, were all clear and defined. It was day arrayed in a quaker garb. The tradesmen in the town closed their shutters and locked their doors to go homeward, yet stopping awhile to chat with their neighbors opposite, or ask the news of the day of some townsmen they meet, look up at the sky and prophecy about the weather tomorrow, and wonder if the wind'll be likely to be fair to bring the craft into port! The cows were all in from pasture and snugly yoked to their stalls, the milk-maid having done her snowy task; the tap-room groups gather about the stoops to smoke their evening pipe and talk politics till it shall grow dark enough to go home; the cart-horse and his master, the stout drayman, both have rest; and the poor sewing girl relinquishes her hated needle, meekly receives her daily pittance, puts on her cheap straw hat and cheaper shawl, and hurries thro' the gathering darkness to her lodging room. The calm repose of evening had settled upon land and water! Suddenly a flash reddened the atmosphere, and a heavy gun fired from a corvette of twenty guns at anchor in the stream, broke upon the sober quiet of the hour with startling distinctness. The blue volumes of smoke had rolled sluggishly away from her bows on the breezeless air and settled upon the water, ere a second gun was discharged, which, like the other, reverberated through the close streets of the town. A third report followed; and slowly and heavily the compact mass of smoke moved towards the quay and covered the streets, tainting the air breathed by the peaceful citizens with the warlike smell of powder. Dear Madam:—Since I have learned your son's resignation of a midshipman's berth on account of a duel, I deem it my duty to advise you of certain matters, touching finances, which I have withheld. I am led to this step from the contents of a letter, received this morning by him, dated at Marseilles on the 1st ult. What I wish to state is this. Besides your draft for five hundred dollars, paid to supply him with funds to take away, he drew on me from Vera Cruz for five hundred more, which draft I paid, having your instructions to supply him with money whenever he wrote to this effect. From Havana, three weeks afterwards, I received another draft at sight for three hundred dollars, which I also paid. Subsequently I paid a draft from Smyrna for eight hundred dollars, one from Constantinople for five hundred, and more recently two from Mahon, one for six and the other for four hundred and fifty dollars; and this morning I have received a brief letter from him, dated at Marseilles, desiring me to transmit to him, without delay, two thousand dollars! As this amount will considerably exceed what I hold at interest, I have concluded to advise you before remitting, though having full confidence in your ability and willingness to refund any advances I might make I trust, madam, that your son has not fallen into evil habits; but the large sams he has drawn, and which could not be expended on board ship, lead me to suspect he has not been pursuing a course altogether upright. My dear Mother:—You will probably have learned by the time you get this, that I have thrown up my birth in the navy, fought a duel, and wounded my opponent. I am sorry to have to say to you that this is all true; though I do not regret the transaction. I was insulted, not once only, but through a continued series of petty insults, which no young man of spirit could put up with, whether from a superior office or not. I recognise no rank above that which is established in the bosom of every gentleman and man of honor. Accepting a junior rank in the navy, does not make me less a gentleman, nor enjoin upon me a slavish submission. I did but assert and maintain my right to courteous treatment, and I was laughed at. I called out the officer who most provoked me, and who took a pleasure in using his power to annoy me. He got behind his privilege as my superior and refused to meet me. I promptly tendered my resignation to the commander, and as a `gentleman,' as I was now acknowledged to be, he was willing to meet me. We fought and he was wounded, but not so severely as to endanger his life. I do not say a word to exculpate myself, for I do not attach to my conduct any blame. My course would be approved by every man of spirit; and since I was not compelled to remain in the navy to subsist, you will not, dear mother, think I have done wrong in resenting insult and petty tyranny. I remained a few days in Mahon, and came over here in a French brig last week. Now I am in Europe, I shall avail myself of the opportunity afforded me of travelling, and shall visit Paris and London. You may see me home in about six months. I shall then remain with you, in your society and that of Grace, to whom I enclose a line. I shall, I trust, perfectly enjoy myself. Dearest Grace:—With the vivid recollection of your parting words, reiterated in your sweet letters to me, warning me firmly, but gently against my giving way to what you termed my `peculiar notions of honor,' I scarcely know how to address you. Before you receive this, the corvette will have reached Boston, and the papers will probably have bruited the intelligence of a duel between me and Lieutenant — .Now I am not about to defend myself. If you knew the circumstances you would exculpate me, I am confident. I had borne with a patience and forbearance which would have commanded your respect and approval; injuries to my feelings, till patience was no longer a virtue, and forbear ance became cowardice. Let me recount a few instances as a specimen of the whole. I had been but three days out, and then ignorant of the peculiar exclusiveness of the quarter deck, I was walking on the weather side, when the first lieutenant seeing me, approached me and said in a peremptory tone— Dear Francis:—Your letter to me I have received and read with great care. That you have done wrong in resigning and fighting a duel, there is no question. By the one act you have sinned against God; by the other deprived yourself of distinction in an honorable profession. But while I censure you I cannot but feel that you have had provocation; but not enough to lead to such results. If you had properly reflected upon the necessity of degrees of rank in the service, and the necessity of discipline, you might have better borne the evils of a system which originated in necessity. To obey is not degrading. To obey, one by no means parts from one jot of his self-respect. Have you not heard the remark that one must learn to obey before one can command! This, it strikes me, is truth. William the Fourth was, when a prince, a midshipman, and obeyed like others. Did he lose any of his real dignity of character? But it is past now, Frank! I only wish you could have borne it with more forbearance still. But to resign was enough. To resign at once freed you from your situation. It cured at once the evil. What need was there to fight a duel afterwards? The evil of which you complained no longer remained, why should you fight? Alas, I fear it was a feeling of revenge that as ill became a gentleman as submission to authority, Frank! After you had quit the navy you should have let the act thrown a veil of oblivion over the past. You should have resigned to be free, not to take the life of a foe. Your motive, therefore, in resigning was a bad one! When the resignation in itself would free you from your condition, what was the use in trying to blow out the lieutenant's brains afterwards? Your favor of August 1st, drawing on me at sight for two thousand dollars, was duly received, and contents duly made known to your respected mother, there not being funds in my hands sufficient to meet it. Your other drafts having exhausted all but six hundred dollars, by a mortgage on Meadow Farm, and forward it to you. I effected the mortgage, and was about to enclose you a bill on Paris for two thousand dollars, when intelligence reached me that your house had been destroyed the day before yesterday by fire. I shall therefore wait further instructions from your mother before I remit; as doubtless she may be put to straits for means under this calamity. Trusting, when you have got through your wandering abroad, you will return to her who protected your infancy, I am sir, `PIRACY!—ROBBERY OF THE BARQUE SELMA OF THIS PLACE, OFF EASTPORT, THREE DAYS AGO!
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224Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The silver bottle, or, The adventures of "Little Marlboro" in search of his father  
 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 am `Little Marlboro'.' That is my name, I may as well say at once. I dare say there are better names, and I dare say there are much worse names; but good or bad my name is Little Marlboro', and neither more nor less than Little Marlboro'! But let me begin at the beginning! for as I intend to write a true and veracious history of my life, I wish to start fair with my reader, giving and taking no advantage in the outset. I am stranger to you! You may never behold me again, yet I am about to cast myself upon your heart! I am about to entrust to you what is dearer to me than life—my infant child! Circumstances of the most painful character, which I cannot at present control and which may bind me till death releases me from this sad world, compel me to deny myself longer the blessed privilege of a mother. I must separate from my child, perhaps never more to clasp it to my bleeding bosom. I have been three days seeking somewhere to leave it,—alas, to leave it among strangers—unknowing and unknown. But no where could I desert it hitherto. The hour of delay cannot be extended. Providence I feel has brought me to your roof. Your heart is kind—for your voice and face are kindly and benevolent. I have had repeated to me your language at the table, and my heart has confidence in you. To you, then, dear madam, I entrust my little boy—my babe! my heart's idol. God forgive me, if I am committing a crime. But it is not mine to choose. I must part with my babe. I shall leave it in the bed. With it you will also find a package of its clothing. Take my child, cherish it tenderly for the poor mother's sake who is denied the trust, she now makes over to you with a broken heart.' Sir,—I have seen an advertisement this morning in one of the papers offering a reward of one hundred dollars for any information touching a device of an eagle treading upon a serpent. Although I do not covet the reward, I desire to serve you, if I can do so. Your advertisement brought to my recollection, a carriage which I painted twenty years ago (for I am by occupation a painter) on which I painted this very device, as I find on referring to my book where I keep patterns of every thing I have ever done in that way. The carriage was a double barouche, light yellow, and highly burnished. Trusting this little information I can give you may be of some service, I remain, I DEPARTED from Boston in the Acadia Steamship the Monday following the close of the First Series of my narration, and arrived here in safety three days ago. I have already stated that by the generosity of my kind foster-mother, Dame Darwell, I was amply provided with means to prosecute my search. According to my promise the reader shall now hear of my progress in a series of letters which I shall transmit to them in recompense for their indulgence in following me thus far in my narrative* *We have thought best to give the letters as they are, instead of bringing them into a narrative form. .
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225Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Alice May, and Bruising Bill  
 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 write to avail myself of my privilege and duty as your betrothed wife, to throw myself, at a crisis which has just occured in my life, upon your love! A certain Count Bondier is persecuting me with his attentions, and althogh I have in every way, not absolutely to insult him, shown him my repugnance to his suit, and also distinctly and firmly declined his addresses, yet he pursues them encouraged by my father, who is warmly in favor of an alliance with his powerful family through me. My father has just left me with the menace that unless I will consent to marry him at the end of three months, that he will immure me in a convent, which God knows is to be prefered. I have asked and obtained six weeks to decide. This letter will reach you in two. It will take three for you to reach here. I need not ask you to fly—for my love tells me you will soon be here to claim your own lover's bride. I have just heard something that has frozen my blood! I write, I know not what! Do not come! I am lost to you forever! `I know not how to address you. `Dear Edward,' was flowing from my pen—but I am unworthy to give you any endearing title. In my last letter—it was a wild—strange one—but I was nearly mad when I wrote it—I told you that events had transpired that rendered it necessary for your honor and happiness that you should forget me! I left all in mystery. But reflection has come to my aid—reason has returned, and after hours of terrible insanity I can think and write calmly. I did intend, Edward, to keep the dreadful secret forever locked up in my own bosom. But this is pride; and with pride I have no more to do. It would be cruel to you, whom my soul loves! Oh, if I could forget—but no! I must live and remember. How shall I relate my shame. I have sat down to do it that I might relieve your mind from suspense, and show you I have not lightly trifled with your love for me; for too well I know how fondly you love me. Alas, that your noble heart had not been bestowed upon a worthier object. But I will no longer avoid the painful subject. In three hours—tonight at midnight I fly from my home, leaving no trace of my flight. Before I take this step I wish you, Edward, to do me justice. Therefore do I now write to you. You saw me first at the boarding schools and knew me as the daughter of an opulent southern planter. You offered me your noble love, and in return I gave you my heart. Oh, the happiness of that hour when I first learned that you regarded me with favor—that you loved me! But I cannot dwell upon these days of happiness fled forever. Alas, why has heaven made me to be accursed! Let me speak of more recent events. Let me explain to you the meaning of the dark language of my last letter. I told you that the only alternative of my union with the Count was to be immured in a convent for life. I entreated you to fly to my rescue, ere the time given me by my father for deciding between the two, elapsed. This letter was followed in two days by another recalling my request, and telling you that an event had occurred which rendered it necessary that we should meet no more, that I was going to fly and hide from the world, for I was unworthy your love or slightest regard. It is this letter which now I am on the eve of flight I feel it my duty to explain; then farewell forever, and forget that I have ever lived. Oh, how can I relate my shame to him whose approbation and love I regard next to Heaven's? But I must to my painful duty. I learn from your mother that you are out of employnent, and from your late employer that you are an excellent printer. I have a relative who is the editor and publisher of a literary paper in New York who wants a partner who is a practical printer. But little capital is required, with which if you would like the situation (which is a profitable one and for which I think you are calculated) I herewith make the offer of it. Pray let me hear from you tonight that I may write to my relative.
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226Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Charles Blackford, or, The adventures of a student in search of a profession  
 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: `If this Republic shall escape the catastrophe that terminated the career of every one of its predecessors in ancient and modern days, it must be by the prevalence of more just and liberal views in regard to the distinctions assigned to BIRTH, MONEY, and OCCUPATION. The people must be made to see and to feel that the LAW OF REPUTATION, as now observed, has a false basis—that there can be no such thing as personal merit without virtue and usefulness—and that no branch of industry which contributes to the general comfort is intrinsically degrading. We have, even among the working classes a scale of merit graduated by occupation, and that fixes, to some extent, the merit of individuals. It is a relic of the absurd prejudices of Europe, by which Aristocracy and Monarchy are upheld, and shows that, although we are as a nation free, the marks of the old servitude are not yet obliterated.'—Walter Forward. Dear Blackford:—I have been thinking of you and your request and unpleasant situation, every turn of the coach-wheel to this place. Your case has undergone my thorough mental survey, and I am convinced I treated your confidence and trust in me very unhandsomely. I have no wish to excuse myself, though I might do so. The truth is I have been very often applied to by students to lend money and seldom refusing, I have been sometimes trifled with and imposed upon, not that I could suspect any such thing of you! Twice before your application this morning I had two fellows ask me for money, which for certain reasons I declined lending; your request was, therefore, unhappily timed and in the hurry of departure I did not give it that consideration, which your own character and my respect for you, should have challenged for it. Pardon me, if I gave you offence, or by my refusal added to your mortifying position. I would now, in some degree, atone for my indifference to your request, and beg leave to enclose you a bank note for $50, assuring you I shall not need it; and I pray you will oblige me by never bringing it to my recollection again. Wishing you a happy deliverance from all your difficulties, I beg leave hastily to subscribe myself, `My Dear Sir,—I write to lessen the weight of my obligation to you, by offering you any service that is in my power. If, in your outset in life, I can do any thing for you, you will confer upon me an infinite kindness, by naming it with the same frankness with which I propose to serve you. The ladies join me, in an invitation for you to dine with us this afternoon, at Hare Hall, where you will see none but those whom you have already met with.
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227Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Fleming Field, or, The young artisan  
 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 soft, roseate haze of an autumnal sunset was just deepening into the obscurity of twilight, as a young man came forth from the door of a humble dwelling that stood in a narrow court not far from Cornhill. The air was mild, and not a breath moved the scarlet leaves of the maple that overshadowed the lowly roof of the house. There was a little yard in front between the step and the court, which was ornamented by a few shrubs and plants, and by each side of the door stoop were three or four pots of geraniums and rose-trees. These were green and fragrant, and the former were in flower, thus betraying careful nurture, while all else in the yard was feeling the first touch of autumn. The two round plats of closely shaven grass, not larger than a chaise wheel, with the circular paths around them, were strewn and filled with dead leaves, which rustled to the tread of the youth, as he passed with a quick step from the door to the latticed gate.
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228Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Forrestal, or, The light of the reef  
 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 loftier turrets of the Moro Castle were still sheathed with gold, from the reflection of the setting sun, while its embrasures and bastions lower down — its walls, still lower — and the harbor and town, far beneath, lay in the soft shadows of the first tremulous twilight. A moment more, and the last sunbeam disappeared, like a blaze suddenly extinguished, from the topmost pinnacle of the cloud-capped fortress; and the simultaneous roar of a heavy piece of ordnance, from the platform of the Castle, told the world of Havana that the sun had set.
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229Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Harry Harefoot  
 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: Our story opens on one of those singularly beautiful mornings which the coast of New-England presents in the month of August, when the fogs, having for some time resisted the unclouded splendor of the sun's rays, begin to lift and break, and roll seaward in majestic volumes, ascending as they move, until they rest in the calm blue bosom of heaven. My Dear Son Harry,—Your last letter gave us all at home a great deal of joy. I was gratified at your affectionate remembrance of me in sending the pretty cap, and I gave your love to little Emma Cutter, as you desired. She is knitting for you a purse she wants me to send you with our first package. I am happy to find you are so well pleased with your place, my son, and that Mr. Cushing is so well satisfied with you. You have only now, my dear boy, to do your duty to be respected. Never consider any thing beneath you which you are required by Mr. Cushing or the upper clerks to perform. Pride has ruined many young men who set out in life as prosperously as you have. Try and cultivate a kind demeanor, pleasing manners, and a frank and unsuspicious bearing; but as true politeness proceeds from grace in the heart, you must first cultivate that. Do not omit reading in the little Bible I wrote your name in, once a day, nor never neglect committing yourself in prayer to your heavenly Father when you go to bed nor thanking Him in grateful adoration when you rise up. Seek humbly his guidance through the day, and you will have it. There is no real good or true happiness that does not first originate in duty to our Maker. Avoid profane speech, impure language, and telling impure anecdotes, for they corrupt the heart. Spend your evenings at home in reading or writing, and your Sabbaths in the fear of God, going twice to church. Never break the Sabbath on any pretence! Let it be a holy day to you through life. Avoid the society of all young men whose character you do not know to be good; but it is best to have few companions and but one or two friends. Have no desire to go to the play, to parties, to frolies, and other scenes of temptation, and never without permission from Mr. Cushing, who is now to be in our place to you. Above all, my son, never touch a drop of wine. O that I could impress, as with a seal, this caution upon your heart—engraft it upon your mind. The sword has slain its thousands, but wine its tens of thousands. You must bear with me, Henry, for giving you such a grave letter of advice, but I have your welfare closely united to my heart, and I know that you are surrounded with temptations, and that you need not only a mother's love, but God's arm to guard and detend you. One thing more, Henry. You have, I know, a fondness for the society and admiration of young ladies. This at home in our quiet village was, perhaps well enough, as it improves the manners of youths to associate early in life with respectable young females. But in Boston there are, I blush to say, classes of females here unknown, who, with lovely countenances, and wearing alluring smiles, are dangerous for young men to know. `Their house,' saith the seventh of Proverbs. where she is described, `is the way to hell, going down to the chamber of death. Let not thine heart incline to her ways, go not astray in her paths. For she hath cast down many wounded; yea, many strong men have been slain by her.'
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230Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Henry Howard, or, Two noes make one yes  
 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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231Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Marie, or, The fugitive  
 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 autumnal moon had already been risen a full hour, as a horseman drew rein upon the summit of a hill which commanded a prospect of the domes and towers of the city towards which he was journeying. He paused a moment as he attained the brow of the eminence over which his road wound, to survey the scene spread out before him. I have decided on my course. Flight is my only safety.— Farewell forever! Do not attempt to seek out my retreat! It will be in vain. I fly to bury my woe in the grave—my infamy from the eyes of the world—to save the honor and spare the sacrifice of a noble heart and love devoted as it is pure! For my sake spare him and be kind, I do not ask your forgiveness for I feel that I am the only one wronged!—wronged, alas—how deeply wronged! Blame not her! She but did a duty sacred and imperative! Censure not— curse not as I have heard thee curse the insensible dead! Deep is the injury that thou hast done, irreparable and which naught but death can heal. To this I fly, not seeking it by my own hand, oh, no! my poor breaking heart will soon bring it me! Farewell. I address you at New York as you desired me in your letter from Mahon. For that kind letter I send you my warmest thanks. It is like yourself and breathes that noble affection which has made you the idol of my heart. The days, weeks and months seem very long for I count them by the throbbings of my heart, which is my only measure of time while you are absent from me I think my father is now reconciled to our union, and I heard him speak with great commendation and a sort of pride, that gratified me very much, of your courage and noble forgetfulness of self, in saving the lives of the three English officers and that of those of the Prince and Princess di Luzzi, in the squall which struck their boat after it left the frigate for the shore.— The papers are full of it, though you make no mention of it yourself. This, too, is so like you. I cannot be too grateful to Heaven for your preservation at such a time of imminent peril and confusion, and also for placing it in your power to do so noble an act; for your fame and praises are mine, dear Bertrand! `Madness! This is unendurable! I have no patience to complete this letter! I feel as if I could fly to him this moment. Poor Marie! Noble and true Marie! If that de Rosselau does not answer for all this—but, patience. I must read more and know all before I can stir a step! Oh, that I could embrace the contents of the remainder of the letter at a glance of thought.' —`I did not leave my room till the next morning, nothwithstanding my father came repeatedly at the door to summon me; but pleading illness I refused to admit him or obey his commands. He threatened me; but I would gladly have been locked up in the darkest and loneliest room of the villa than have met de Rosselau. But believing in the morning that he had gone, for I had been told so by my maid, I went out to breakfast. I found him standing with my father in the breakfast-room. My first impulse was to fly. My next and best was to remain and chill him by my manner. I had before found this most successful, and I now assumed this bearing; and during breakfast I neither saw nor heard him speak. His chair might as well have been empty, for I took no notice that any one occupied it. My father was very angry and the breakfast passed off gloomily; but I felt that I was the victorious one. `I beg you will not refuse to read with your beautiful eyes (Bertrand. The devil confound him!) the few profound sentiments of my heart, I have the honor to give expression to in consideration of the deep passion I entertain for you. Be assured, Madamoisille, that it has never been my felicitous fate to meet with one of your divine sex who has succeded in imprisoning my heart so completely as you have done! Yes, admirable Marie! (the foul fiend take him!) I have had but one thought since I beheld you, and that is to make myself agreeable to you, that I may win that cruel heart which already has captivated mine. I assure you I have taken no offence at your proud and cold indifference, but on the contrary, your coldness has increased the flame of my devotion! May I hope that my sincerity may meet at least with some degree of grace from you, for you are too beautiful to be a tyrant! (I'll make him eat this letter!) It is my highest ambition to make you the Countess de Rosselau, a rank to which some of the haughtiest beauties I say it without vanity, of dear enchanting Paris have aspired to in vain! At your feet, where I have already laid my heart, I am desirous of laying the honors of my name and rank. Your father's consent I have been so fortunate as to obtain, and I only await your condescension to my suit, trusting that I shall not have sued in vain. Your devoted and humble lover, who kisses your hand with the profoundest adoration, `I took no notice of this note, Bertrand, and indeed should have sent it back unopened, but I wished to know what it was he had to say, and to ascertain, if possible, how far this persecution was to be carried; for I had made up my mind to escape from it by flight, I knew not whither, if he should continue it. `What I am now to add, my dear Edward,' said the maiden in her letter, will show you how fully matured was the conspiracy against my happiness and peace, planned between my misguided father and this unfeeling Baron de Rosselau. After he had entered my room, and locked the door as I have already said in the beginning of my letter, he sat for a few moments in silence as if not knowing in what way to open the subject upon his mind. At length he raised his eyes and said, `After half an hour's weeping for you as well as for me, dear Bertrand, I resolved I would write to you the whole that had transpired, knowing that you were soon to be back from the Mediterranean, and hoping that my letter may find you in New York in time for you to fly to rescue from a two fold danger her who lives only for you. I have, therefore, been sitting up half the night writing the foregoing, while my father believes that I sleep. Two days more remain. Vague ideas of flight enter my mind—but I ask myself whither shall I fly? How should I escape from my father's careful watch, or the no less watchful scrutiny of de Rosselau' I shall soon decide upon something. I will close my long letter now, for the morning dawns, and my father will soon be here to unlock my door and ask me if I have changed my mind and am ready for the sacrifice. I shall secretly despatch this letter to the office by my faithful servant Moses. I will not seal it till I can send it away, and will add a postscript telling you what I decide upon. `P. S.—Four o'clock, P. M. I shall make no apology for this communication. I address you upon a subject of the deepest interest to me. I am not ignorant of your aspirations to the hand and fortune of my daughter; nor am I ignorant that you have been successful in inspiring in her bosom a temporary regard for you. Whatever may have been my former forbearance in suffering this attachment to go on unchecked, circumstances, not at all affecting your character, sir, render it necessary that I request you to terminate all further views in relation to a union with her. This is her desire as well as my own; and it is not therefore necessary to inform you that all letters which you may have the imprudence to address to her will be returned, and that my doors will be closed to any visits that have Marie for their object. `What can this mean?' he exclaimed in astonishment. `Marie to address me thus. This is certainly her hand-writing, and at the end of it' (and here he rapidly ran over the pages of the letter to the close) and here is her signature `Marie.' What can this mean? It is signed simply `Marie' without one word of affection. Nay. It is `your unfortunate and lost, Marie.' What fearful news have I now to hear. She can be lost to me only by being the wife of this baron Can it——Oh, can it be possible that she has——but I will not drive myself mad by anticipation. I will hasten to learn the worst.'
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232Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Norman, or, The privateersman's bride  
 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 readers of the nautical romance entitled `Freemantle, or the Privateersman,' to which the present story is a sequel, will remember that the narrative closed with the landing of Freemantle and the passengers of the Indiaman at the villa of Colonel Hood, while the Indiaman stood on towards the port of Boston. The disabled and defeated corvette at the same time, it will be remembered, was making the best of her way towards Halifax, closely followed off soundings by the Privateer, which then had orders to put back into port. I heard of your illness at Macao. I could not remain there while you where perhaps dying among strangers. I am here without your door—protected by an unperceptible disguise. I have come to nurse you. Do not be alarmed for my safety. I am disguised as a Ceylonese clerk. I pray you send for me to come in that I may be with you.'
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233Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Rafael  
 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 towards the close of a summery afternoon in October, 1840, that the U. S. schooner of war, Dolphin, was riding at anchor in the port of Key-West. Around her were several ships, brigs and schooners which a gale of the preceding night had driven in for shelter. One of them was the packet ship on which I had taken passage sixteen days before at New York for New Orleans; and as she had lost her fore-topmast and received some other injuries which it would take some days to repair, I accepted the invitation of the lieutenant commanding the armed schooner to take a three days cruise with him across the channel to Cuba.
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234Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Scarlet Feather, or, The young chief of the Abenaquies  
 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 young chieftain Natanis stood in front of his hunting-lodge leaning upon his bow. Tall and noble in person, and in his attitude commanding, yet graceful, he looked like a young Apollo just returned from the chase. At his feet lay a doe with a freshly oozing wound in her soft white breast, and upon the ground by his side crouched, panting, a huge black wolf-dog.
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235Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The clipper-yacht, or, Moloch, the money-lender!  
 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: On a mid-summer's evening so long ago as the year 1803, a King's Yacht was laying at anchor in the river Thames, a cable's length below the tower of London. The twilight was still early, the glow of sunset yet diffusing a rich blush over the warm, hazy skies. The confused hum of the vast city rolled over the water mingled with the deep tones of a bell from some distant tower. A thin, dreamy-looking mist enveloped like a veil of gauze the thousand masts that densely crowded the piers, and half-obscured the spires and turrets scarce less numerous. Above the place where the yacht lay, there stretched, in majestic arches, the series of noble bridges that span the Thames, their avenues thronged with multitudes passing and repassing on foot and in carriges. The sound of feet and wheels in their ceaseless passage fell upon the ear louder than the roar of the opposed current of the river, as it rushed like the rapids of a mountain stream between the strong arches beneath. `May it please your majesty, it is with regret I have to inform your majesty that in consequence of an accident which last night occurred to the yacht by the carelessness of a coal-barge skipper, whereby my bowsprit was carried away and other damage done which it will take three or four days to repair, it is out of my power to render obedience to your majesty's commands last night received. I await your majesty's further pleasure. I shall depart in one hour for the Tower and go on board, or rather, be taken, en masque as the prisoner of state, on board the yacht with my party of Police-men! Sir John informs me that the repairs are already completed, and that the schooner will be ready to sail, down the river with the first turn of the tide. Then getting Tudor to anchor under the guns of the frigate at the mouth, we can dictate our own terms to him!— Tudor has not yet been on board; but I have ascertained that he made his appearance at the Bank at noon and called for the draft holding the amount in notes in his open pocket-book. The cashier who suspects nothing, voluntarily informed me as I entered the banking-house, that he had come to take up the draft, not knowing that it was paid already. `When I told him that your grace had taken it up in person,' said the banker to me, `he said that it was all very well; that you had given him the funds to take it up, as he was coming into town, not expecting to be in London yourself!' The writer has positive evidence that the plot you have arranged for the purpose of banishing your son from England, is known to him through means of a letter taken from your table to-day. In a word, the person who returned the letter to you was no other than your son, lord Tudor, disguised as a peasant. He returned the letter to lull all suspicions of his having learned the contents. His object in being in disguise near your palace was to get early intelligence respecting the fate of the forged draft your grace held!
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236Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The cruiser of the mist  
 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: On one of those brilliant mornings peculiar to the early autumnal days, when the atmosphere is like chrystal in transparency, and the skies are turgid with their leepest blue, two persons stood together upon an eminence that commanded the Bay of Raritan and a wide expanse of the ocean horizon to the eastward. “The pirate schooner known as `The Cruiser of the Mist,' is at this moment off Sandy Hook laying to! Ride to the head of the island with all haste, and take a boat to the sloop-of-war Franklin. Tell the captain, if he gets underweigh at once, he may capture her! Delay not a moment, if you love your country or your brother,
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237Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The knights of seven lands  
 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: At the close of a summer's day, sometime near the end of the fourteenth century, a party of young knights, seven in number, were returning to their several countries from attending a great tournament held in the lists of the Moorish palace of the Alhambra, then occupied by John, king of Castile. This tournament was held in honor of the nuptials of the Prince with the Infanta, and from its magnificence had drawn together the flower of the chivalry of many lands. The company of knights alluded to, consisted of one of Spain, whose castle lay northward, near the Pyrennees; one of France; one of England; one of Germany; one of Rome; of a Scottish knight, and a knight of Venice, all journeying homeward from the jousts, with their esquires and retinues.
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238Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  The seven knights, or, Tales of many lands  
 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: At the close of a summer's day, sometime near the end of the fourteenth century, a party of young knights, seven in number, were returning to their several countries from attending a great tournament held in the lists of the Moorish palace of the Alhambra, then occupied by John, king of Castile. This tournament was held in honor of the nuptials of the Prince with the Infanta, and from its magnificence had drawn together the flower of the chivalry of many lands. The company of knights alluded to, consisted of one of Spain, whose castle lay northward, near the Pyrennees; one of France; one of England; one of Germany; one of Rome; of a Scottish knight, and a knight of Venice, all journeying homeward from the jousts, with their esquires and retinues.
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239Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Requires cookie*
 Title:  Burton, or, The sieges  
 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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240Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Requires cookie*
 Title:  Edgar Huntly, Or, Memoirs of a Sleep-walker  
 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 likewise burned with impatience to know the condition of my family, to dissipate at once their tormenting doubts and my own, with regard to our mutual safety. The evil that I feared had befallen them was too enormous to allow me to repose in suspense, and my restlessness and ominous forebodings would be more intolerable than any hardship or toils to which I could possibly be subjected during this journey.
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