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UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 (58)
UVA-LIB-Text (58)
University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 (58)
University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection[X]
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1Author:  Bacon Delia Salter 1811-1859Add
 Title:  Tales of the Puritans  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: —We, according to your honor's order, departed in search after Colonels Goffe and Whalley (persons declared traitors to his Majesty) from Boston, May 27th, 1661, about six o'clock at night, and arrived at Hartford the 10th day, and repaired to Governor Winthrop, and gave him your honor's letter and his Majesty's order for the apprehending of Colonels Whalley and Goffe, who gave us an account that they did not stay there, but went directly for New-Haven, but informed us that one Symon Lobden guided them to the town. The honorable governor carried himself very nobly to us, and was very diligent to supply us with all manner of conveniences for the prosecution of them, and promised all diligent search should be made after them in that jurisdiction, which was afterwards performed. The 11th day we arrived at Guilford, and repaired to the deputy governor, William Leet, and delivered him your honor's letter and the copy of his Majesty's order for the apprehending of the aforesaid persons, with whom at that time were several persons. After the perusal of them, he began to read them audibly, whereupon we told him it was convenient to be more private in such concernments as that was; upon which withdrawing to a chamber, he told us he had not seen the two colonels not in nine weeks. We acquainted him with the information we had received that they were at New-Haven since that time he mentioned, and there-upon desired him to furnish us with horses, &c. which was prepared with some delays, which we took notice of to him, and after parting with him out of his house and in the way to the ordinary, came to us one Dennis Scranton, and told us he would warrant that Colonels Goffe and Whalley at the time of his speaking were harbored at the house of one Mr. Davenport, a minister at New-Haven, and that one Goodman Bishop, of the town of Guilford, was able to give us the like account, and that, without all question, Deputy Leet knew as much, and that Mr. Davenport had put in ten pounds worth of fresh provisions at one time into his house, and that it was imagined it was purposely for the entertainment of them.
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2Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Kate Clarendon, Or, Necromancy in the Wilderness  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: On the banks of the beautiful Ohio, some five or six miles above the large and flourishing city of Cincinnati, can be seen the small and pleasant village of Columbia, once laid out and designed to become the capital of the great West. This village stands on a beautiful plain, which stretches away from the Ohio in a north-easterly direction, between two ridges, for a goodly number of miles, and at the base of what is termed Bald Hill— a hill of a conical shape, from the summit whereof you can command every point of compass, and some of the most delightful views in the western country.
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3Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Leni Leoti, Or, Adventures in the Far West  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It was the last day of May, in the year of our Lord 1843. Already the earth felt the genial air of summer, and looked as smiling as a gay maiden in her teens. The blade had covered the ground with a carpet of matchless green, amid which, their lovely faces half concealed, bright flowers of a hundred varieties, peeped modestly forth to render the landscape enchanting, giving their sweet breath to a southern breeze that softly stole over them. The trees in every direction were in full foliage, and already among them could be seen green bunches of embryo fruits. It was in fact a delightful day, a delightful season of the year, and a delightful scene upon which I gazed, with feelings, alas! that had more in them of sadness than joy.
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4Author:  Bennett Emerson 1822-1905Add
 Title:  Oliver Goldfinch, Or, the Hypocrite  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It was a dark and stormy night in the month of November, 18—. To simply say it was dark and stormy, conveys but a faint idea of what the night was in reality. The clouds were pall black, and charged with a vapor which, freezing as it descended, spread an icy mantle over every thing exposed. The wind was easterly and fierce, and drove the sleety hail with a velocity that made it any thing but pleasant to be abroad. Signs creaked, windows rattled, lamps flickered and became dim, casting here and there long ghostly shadows, that seemed to dance fantastically to the music of the rushing winds, as they whistled through some crevice, moaned down some chimney, or howled along some deserted alley on their mad career. It was, take it all in all, a dismal night, and such an one as, with a comfortable shelter over our heads and a cheerful fire before us, is apt to make us thank God we are not forced to be abroad like the poor houseless wretches who have no place to lay their heads. It is too much the case at such times, that we congratule ourselves on being far better off than they, without taking into consideration it is our duty, as humane beings, to render them as comfortable as our circumstances will permit. But who thinks of the poor? God cares for them, say the rich, and that is enough.
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5Author:  Bird Robert Montgomery 1806-1854Add
 Title:  Calavar, Or, the Knight of the Conquest  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The day that followed after the flight of Abdoul-al-Sidi, beheld the army of Cortes crossing that ridge which extends like a mighty curtain, between the great volcano and the rugged Iztaccihuatl; and many a hardy veteran shivered with cold and discontent, as sharp gusts, whirling rain and snow from the inhospitable summits, prepared him for the contrast of peace and beauty which is unfolded to the traveller, when he looks down from the mountains to the verdant valley of Mexico. Even at the present day, when the axe has destroyed the forest; when the gardens of flowers—the cultivation of which, with a degree of passionate affection that distinguished the Mexicans from other races, seemed to impart a tinge of poetry to their character, and mellow their rougher traits with the hues of romance,—when these flower gardens have vanished from the earth; when the lakes have receded and diminished, and, with them, the fair cities that once rose from their waters, leaving behind them stagnant pools and saline deserts; even now, under all these disadvantages, the prospect of this valley is of such peculiar and astonishing beauty as, perhaps, can be nowhere else equalled among the haunts of men. The providence of the Spanish viceroys in constructing a road more direct and more easy of passage, to the north of the great mountains, has robbed travellers of the more spirit-stirring impressions which introduced them to the spectacle, when pursuing the ancient highway of the Mexicans. It ascends among gloomy defiles, at the entrance of which stand, on either hand, like stupendous towers guarding the gate of some Titan strong-hold, the two grandest pinnacles of the interior. It conducts you among crags and ravines, among clouds and tempests, now sheltering you under a forest of oaks and pines, now exposing you to the furious blasts that howl along the ridges. A few dilapidated hamlets of Indians, if they occasionally break the solitude, destroy neither the grandeur nor solemnity of the path. You remember, on this deserted highway, that you are treading in the steps of Cortes.
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6Author:  Bird Robert Montgomery 1806-1854Add
 Title:  Nick of the Woods, Or, the Jibbenainosay  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: If we can believe the immortal poet, from whom we have taken the above lines, to serve as our letter of introduction to the gentle reader, the grief of our first parents for the loss of Paradise was not so deep and overwhelming but that they almost immediately found comfort, when they reflected they had exchanged it for the land of Eden,—itself a paradise, though an earthly and unsanctified one:
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7Author:  Bird Robert Montgomery 1806-1854Add
 Title:  Peter Pilgrim, Or, a Rambler's Recollections  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Travellers,” quoth Rosalind, the wise and the witty, “have great reason to be sad;” an assurance to which I know not whether I feel inclined to subscribe assent or not; the opinion of the world, (and to the opinions of the world I always endeavour, as a modest man, to square my own,) judging from the world's practice, being directly the reverse. To travel is to gain experience, (so runs the argument;) and to have experience is to have that which makes us sad.
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8Author:  Briggs Charles F. (Charles Frederick) 1804-1877Add
 Title:  Bankrupt Stories  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: It is with emotions of peculiar gratification to our Heavenly Father, and his son, the Lord Jesus, that I take up my pen to address you a few lines; as, but for his merciful interposition in answer to the prayers of his servant, his unworthy servant, there is but too much cause to believe that you would now be lying in the dark prison house of death, where, by his inscrutable Providence, she that should have been the sharer of your troubles and the promoter of your pleasures now lies. Blessed be her spirit. But it is my office to heal and not to open up afresh the wounds of my people. I bless God that you arrived safely at home, and I trust my very dear young friend, that your thoughts will be directed to the church, that you may be inclosed in its broad fold, and that you may be made free by its bondage. For the blessed privilege that we enjoy in this land, where there is none to make us afraid, and where we have liberty in Christ, in his church and ourselves, always excepting the slavery of sin, let us be ever grateful and magnify his name. “Will you have the goodness to call and see me at the earliest moment possible? I have something to communicate of great importance to yourself and others in whom you are interested. Do not fail to call.
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9Author:  Brooks Maria Gowen 1794 or 5-1845Add
 Title:  Idomen, Or, the Vale of Yumuri  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Various misfortunes had determined me to visit the new world. Far advanced in the path of life, my wishes were few. I sought only gold enough to retire to some humble recess; and hoped for no other pleasure, than to find at last, some being capable of friendship, that I might sometimes unburthen my heart, by expressing my real sentiments.
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10Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Add
 Title:  Wieland, or the Transformation  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I Feel little reluctance in complying with your request. You know not fully the cause of my sorrows. You are a stranger to the depth of my distresses. Hence your efforts at consolation must necessarily fail. Yet the tale that I am going to tell is not intended as a claim upon your sympathy. In the midst of my despair, I do not dildain to contribute what little I can to the benefit of mankind. I acknowledge your right to be informed of the events that have lately happened in my family. Make what use of the tale you shall think proper. If it be communicated to the world, it will inculcate the duty of avoiding deceit. It will exemplify the force of early impressions, and show the immeasurable evils that flow from an erroneous or imperfect discipline.
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11Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Add
 Title:  Arthur Mervyn, Or, Memoirs of the Year 1793  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Here ended the narrative of Mervyn. Surely its incidents were of no common kind. During this season of pestilence, my opportunities of observation had been numerous, and I had not suffered them to pass unimproved. The occurrences which fell within my own experience bore a general resemblance to those which had just been related, but they did not hinder the latter from striking on my mind with all the force of novelty. They served no end, but as vouchers for the truth of the tale. Where does this letter you promised me, stay all this while? Indeed, Arthur, you torment me more than I deserve, and more than I could ever find it in my heart to do you. You treat me cruelly. I must say so, though I offend you. I must write, though you do not deserve that I should, and though I fear I am in a humor not very fit for writing. I had better go to my chamber and weep: weep at your—unkindness, I was going to say; but, perhaps, it is only forgetfulness: and yet what can be more unkind than forgetfulness? I am sure I have never forgotten you. Sleep itself, which wraps all other images in forgetfulness, only brings you nearer, and makes me see you more distinctly.
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12Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Add
 Title:  Clara Howard  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: What could excite in you any curiosity as to my affairs? You once knew me a simple lad, plying the file and tweezers at the bench of a watchmaker, with no prospect before me but of labouring, for a few years, at least, as a petty and obscure journeyman, at the same bench where I worked five years as an apprentice. I was sprung from obscurity, destitute of property, of parents, of paternal friends; was full of that rustic diffidence, that inveterate humility, which are alone sufficient to divert from us the stream of fortune's favours. Why do I write? For whose use do I pass my time thus? There is no one living who cares a jot for me. There was a time, when a throbbing heart, a trembling hand, and eager eyes were always prepared to read, and ruminate on the scantiest and poorest scribble that dropped from my pen, but she has disappeared. The veil between us is like death. I need not tell you, my friend, what I have felt, in consequence of your silence. The short note which I received, a fortnight after you had left me, roused my curiosity and my fears, instead of allaying them. You promised me a longer account of some mysterious changes that had taken place in your condition. This I was to receive in a few days. At the end of a week I was impatient. The promised letter did not arrive. Four weeks passed away, and nothing came from you. I shall not call on you at Hatfield. I am weary of traversing hills and dales; and my detention in Virginia being longer than I expected, shall go on board a vessel in this port, bound for New-York. Contract, in my name, with your old friend, for the present accommodation of the girls, and repair to New-York as soon as possible. Search out No......., Broadway. If I am not there to embrace you, inquire for my wife or niece, and mention your name. Make haste; the women long to see a youth in whose education I had so large a share; and be sure, by your deportment, not to discredit your instructor, and belie my good report.
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13Author:  Brown Charles Brockden 1771-1810Add
 Title:  Jane Talbot  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I am very far from being a wise girl. So conscience whispers me, and though vanity is eager to refute the charge, I must acknowledge that she is seldom successful. Conscience tells me it is folly, it is guilt to wrap up my existence in one frail mortal; to employ all my thoughts, to lavish all my affections upon one object; to doat upon a human being, who, as such, must be the heir of many frailties, and whom I know to be not without his faults; to enjoy no peace but in his presence, to be grateful for his permission to sacrifice fortune, ease, life itself for his sake. “If you ever injured Mr. Talbot, your motives A a for doing so, entitle you to nothing but compassion, while your present conduct lays claim, not only to forgiveness, but to gratitude. The letter you entrust to me, shall be applied to no purpose but that which you proposed by writing it. Inclosed, is the paper you request, the seal unbroken and its contents unread. In this, as in all cases, I have no stronger wish than to act as
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14Author:  Brown William Hill 1765-1793Add
 Title:  The Power of Sympathy, Or, the Triumph of Nature  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I AM sometimes mortified to find the books which I recommend to your perusal, are not always applicable to the situation of an American lady. The general observations of some English books are the most useful things contained in them; the principal parts being chiefly filled with local deseriptions, which a young woman here is frequently at a loss to understand. “TO the man for whom my bleeding heart yet retains its wonted affection, though the author of my guilt and misery, do I address my feeble complaint---O! Harrington, I am verging to a long eternity---and Q 2 it is with difficulty I support myself while my trembling hand traces the dictates of my heart. Indisposed as I am---and unable as I feel to prosecute this task---I however collect all my powers to bid you a long ---a final farewell. “WE have a scene of distress at our house peculiarly pathetick and affecting, and of which you, perhaps, are the sole author—You have had a criminal connexion with Miss Fawcet—you have turned her upon the world inhumanly—but chance—rather let me say Providence, hath directed her footsteps to my dwelling, where she is kindly entertained, and will be so, as long as she remains in this wilderness world, which is to be, I fear, but a short time---And shall she not, though she hath been decoyed from the road that leadeth to peace, long life and happiness--- shall she not, if she return with tears of repentance and contrition, be entitled to our love and charity? Yes---this is my doctrine ---If I behold any child of human nature distressed and forlorn, and in real want of the necessities of life, must I restrain or withhold the hand of charity---must I cease to recal the departing spirit of them that are ready to perish, until I make diligent inquiry into their circumstances and character? Surely, my friend, it is a duty incumbent on us by the ties of humanity and fellow feeling, and by the duty imposed on us by our holy religion, equally to extend the hand of relief to all the necessitous—however they may be circumstanced in the great family of mankind. “PERMIT me, my ever honoured friend, to return you thanks for your late favours—need I add—an acknowledgment for your liberality? No—your heart supplies a source of pleasure which is constantly nourished by your goodness and universal charity.— “YOU are about to marry a young lady of great beauty and accomplishments—I beg you to bestow a few serious thoughts on this important business—Let me claim your attention, while I disclose an affair, which materially concerns you—Harriot must not be your wife—You know your father is averse to your early connecting yourself in marriage with any woman—The duty we owe a parent is sacred, but this is not the only barrier to your marriage—the ties of consanguinity prevent it—She is your SISTER— Your father, or Miss Harrington, will inform you more particularly—It is sufficient for me to have hinted it in time.—I am, with the most perfect esteem, and sincere wishes for your happiness, your
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15Author:  Brown William Hill 1765-1793Add
 Title:  Ira and Isabella, Or, the Natural Children  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The web of human life, says the prince of dramatick poets, is a mingled yarn. A metaphor is not necessary to convince men that the empire of life is divided by good and ill. How easily are we persuaded of this truth! How comprehensible to the meanest capacity are the metaphysicks of misfortune! We feel. We judge.
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16Author:  Calvert George Henry 1803-1889Add
 Title:  A Volume from the Life of Herbert Barclay  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “Do you recollect when you were last with us, you asked me, on occasion of my describing some of the scenes of my youthful days, to give you a chapter from my early life? If you have forgotten your request and my promise to comply with it, the accompanying manuscript will remind you of both, and at the same time of the proverb—“Give him an inch and he will take an ell.” A short time after you left us, I one day got Alfred to make me some good pens, and taking a sheet of his large school paper, that I might have “room and verge enough,” I sat down to fulfil my promise. I soon found myself at the end of the sheet with my chapter unfinished, and 1* what I had written appearing to me very meager. The effort, however, created an interest in the occupation. Half-buried recollections with their trains of association rose up. The motives of pleasure and curiosity added themselves to the simple purpose of keeping my word to you. The design of enveloping fact in fiction grew out of them. I resolved to give you half a dozen chapters instead of one; and here you have the result of this resolve in the form of a volume—and an exemplification of the growth of great things out of small. When I tell you, that the task of writing it has afforded me much pleasure, I know I furnish you with a motive to bear patiently the task of reading it. My wife, too, has been highly amused with the productions of “my book,” as she calls it. She has indeed contributed to it. The proper names are all testimonials of her genius for fiction. She claims to have supplied, besides, useful hints, and even to have made several important corrections: most of these claims, however, are questionable. You will be wrong if you ascribe to her any portion of my character. I alone am answerable for the liberties which in that picture fiction has taken with fact. Whatever difficulty you may have in discerning the proportions in which they are mingled, you will have none when I tell you that you have a sincere friend in “P. S. How soon shall we see you again in this part of Maryland? Alfred asks often when you are coming back. His partiality for you is owing chiefly, I believe, to his triumphs over you in geography.” —“Had I observed that Herbert's natural dispositions exposed him to be particularly injured by pursuing this course, I should not have permitted him to pursue it. Respect for his father's injunctions would have yielded to regard for his welfare. Indeed, in disregarding such injunctions from such a motive, I should have felt, that I was doing a duty towards my brother himself, as well as towards my nephew. But Herbert, has, I think, lost less by the imperfections of education, than most young persons lose. He has run smoothly over the customary course, learning the little that can be learnt in it, with such readiness, that acquisition has not been to him an irksome labor, nor absence from his teachers, liberation from prison. He has none of the disgust for study, which is so often the strongest impression brought away from school. Besides, with the will and opportunity, a young man of twenty can, in a great measure, make up for early deficiencies.”
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17Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Add
 Title:  The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: Towards the latter part of the summer of 18—, on one of those cool, delightful, and invigorating mornings which are frequent in the southern regions of the United States, there issued from the principal hotel on the valley-side of Harper's Ferry two travellers, attended by a venerable and stately southern slave. The experienced eye of the old ferryman, as he stood in his flat-bottomed boat awaiting the arrival of this party, discovered at once that our travellers were from the far South. “Five long years have we lived under the same roof, pursued the same studies, or rather the same studies pursued us;—engaged in the same dissipation, drank of the same sour wine, shed the same vinous tears, discussed the same dinners and suppers, enjoyed the same dances,—stag dances, I mean,—played the same music, belonged to the same society, and, I was going to say, fallen in love with the same nymphs; but that brings me to the subject of this letter. I am in for it! Yes, you may well look surprised! It is a fact! Who is the lady? you ask. I will tell you,—that is, if I can; her name is St. Clair. O! she is the most lovely, modest, weeping, melancholy, blue-eyed, fairhaired, and mysterious little creature you ever beheld. If you could only see her bend that white neck, and rest her head upon that small hand, her eye lost in profound thought, until the lower lid just overflows, and a tear steals gently down that most lovely cheek; and then see her start up stealthily to join again in the conversation, with the most innocent consciousness of guilt imaginable; —but what is it that brings these tears to sadden the heart of one so youthful and so innocent? `There's the rub,' as Hamlet says. Yourself, Lamar, and I were unanimous, as you perhaps remember, that men generally suffer in proportion to their crimes, even in this world. I here renounce that opinion, with all others founded upon college logic. A half-taught college boy, in the pride of his little learning and stubborn opinions, is little better than an innocent. But, you ought to see this fair sufferer in order fully to appreciate the foregoing opinion. You would see child-like innocence—intelligence—benevolence; in short, all that is good, in her sad but lovely countenance. “Thus far I have flown before the wind—sand, I should have said. At any rate, here I am, in this town of German religionists. Here dwells the first unanimous people I have ever seen. They are Moravians; and every thing is managed by this little community for the common benefit. They have one tavern, one store, one doctor, one tanner, one potter, and so on in every trade or occupation. Besides these, they have a church, and a flourishing female seminary. The latter is conducted upon the utilitarian plan—each lady, in turn, has to perform the offices of cook, laundress, and gardener; and, I need hardly say, that it is admirably conducted. After I had visited all these establishments — for every respectable looking stranger is waited upon by some one appointed for that purpose to conduct him thither,—I returned to the large, cool, and comfortable inn, and had scarcely seated myself to enjoy the comforts of nicotiana, when a small billet was handed to me by a handsomely dressed and polite black servant with a glazed hat, which not a little astonished me, you may be sure. I had not a living acquaintance in the whole state that I knew of; except, indeed, old Father Bagby, the master of ceremonies to the little community. It could not be a challenge from some Hans Von Puffenburg of these quiet burghers: so I concluded it must be a billetdoux from some of the beautiful creatures at the seminary on the hill. You can easily imagine, therefore, that I was no long time in tearing it open; when, behold! it was, in good truth, from a lady. Can you guess who? No. Then take the note itself entire. “ `If, as I believe, you are the same Mr. Randolph who was a room and class-mate of my son Victor Chevillere, in college, I will be very glad to see you. The servant will show you to our little parlour. “ `I am the luckiest dog alive,' said I, jumping nearly over the negro's head. `Is your young mistress here also.' “I TOLD you in my last of our surprise at the little coincidence of the number on the card, and that on the house where the lady alighted, with whom Lamar had exchanged some intelligent glances in her more girlish days; but I did not complete the relation, which I will do presently. “The day being Sunday, I sent old Cato this morning to arouse Lamar quite early, in order to ascertain if he was disposed to walk before breakfast, and view some of the boasted parks, groves, and gardens of these hospitable Gothamites. Old Cato soon returned, saying that Lamar had but that moment fallen asleep, but that he would be with me as soon as he could make a hasty toilet; hasty it indeed was, for he was not many minutes behind Cato, in his morning-gown and slippers, yawning and stretching his clenched fists through the room as if he had sat in his chair all night. “10 o'clock P. M. “Events which seem to me worth recording, crowd upon us so fast now, that it is almost impossible to give you, according to promise, even a profile view of our movements. “I have seen her, Randolph, and seen her far more captivating and beautiful than ever!
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18Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Add
 Title:  The Kentuckian in New-York, Or, the Adventures of Three Southerns  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: “You will be surprised to learn that this letter is written in bed, on a large old portfolio of yours, while I am propped up with chairs and pillows behind; all during the doctor's absence, and against the urgent entreaties of the whole house. “The change in Virginia's deportment has been to me a curious subject of study and reflection. I dare not say that it has been entirely disinterested study, but perhaps it was none the less close and minute on that account. We are apt to investigate those engines which operate upon ourselves very philosophically. But before I go any farther, permit me to correct an error into which I fear I have led you, because I had honestly fallen into it myself. I stated to you that my sickness had cast out devils for me, and that I was altogether a changed and reformed man. It is no such thing; I feel the devil of mischief and fun in me even now. It was nothing more than a natural depression of animal spirits, consequent upon the low state of my stomach and pulsations. The doctor was my priest on the occasion. He subdued the old Adam in me for a time, by the assistance of his lancet and the whole vegetable and mineral kingdom, worked up into shot and bullets vulgarly called pills, by the aid of which these same doctors, I believe, often do a deal of execution; at all events this disciple fleeced me of a goodly quantity of the flesh upon my ribs; none of his shot happened to be mortal; but, nevertheless, I would advise you to keep out of the reach of their magazines. The muzzle of a pill-box is as terrible to me now, as the mysterious dark hole in the end of a forty-two-pounder; and a blister-plaster as awful as an army with banners. As for cupping-glasses and scarificators, they are neither more nor less than instruments of torture, borrowed from the Spanish inquisition. But above all, deliver me from the point of a seton-needle! Did you ever see a cruel boy string fish on a stick before they were dead? He runs the stick through the gills, tearing and torturing as it goes; so do these disciples of Esculapius; they seize a piece of your skin, no matter how scarce the article may be,— no matter if your lips do not cover your teeth, and the bones of your nose look white through the attenuated sheath! Away goes this surgical bayonet through a handful of it, armed with a piece of gum elastic, which is left sticking there, the sensation on the back of your neck being as if the ramrod of a small swivel had been shot through it; and there you must sit, or stand, or lie, with this huge thing all the while poking your head forward, as if you had a pillory on your back. “I have deferred the closing of this letter a day longer than I intended when I penned the above. The fact is, I was not so much in the humour for writing as I expected. I was compelled to order your horse and take my first ride, and you may be sure that I did not restrain his mettle. What would you argue from this? That I was successful? or defeated? I should suppose neither, from that circumstance alone, say you,—as you would be apt to ride down your impetuosity in either case. `They tell me hereabouts you're married. Well, hurrah for old Kentuck, I say, and her sister Carolina. I'm married, too! yes, and I believe everybody's married, nearabouts, as far as I can learn. It's twisted strange, ain't it, when a feller gets half corned,[5] [5]Western term for drunk. everybody reels round; and when a feller gets married, everybody else should get married just at that particular time.
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19Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Add
 Title:  The Cavaliers of Virginia, Or, the Recluse of Jamestown  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The romance of history pertains to no human annals more strikingly than to the early settlement of Virginia. The mind of the reader at once reverts to the names of Raleigh, Smith, and Pocahontas. The traveller's memory pictures in a moment the ivy-mantled ruin of old Jamestown. Sir—I seize the first moment of your appearance in public, restored to health, to demand the satisfaction due for the grievous insult put upon me, on the night of the Anniversary Celebration, 16* in presence of the assembled gentry of the Colony. All proper arrangements will be made by my friend Ludwell, who will also await your answer. I have the honour to be your most obedient servant, Sir—Your note by the hands of Mr. Ludwell was this moment received. Your challenge is accepted. To-morrow morning at sunrise I will meet you. The length of my weapon will be furnished by my friend Dudley, who will convey this to Mr. Ludwell, as well as make all other arrangements on my behalf. I have the honour to be, yours, &c.
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20Author:  Caruthers William Alexander 1802-1846Add
 Title:  The Cavaliers of Virginia, Or, the Recluse of Jamestown  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: The lightning streamed athwart the heavens in quick and vivid flashes. One peal of thunder after another echoed from cliff to cliff, while a driving storm of rain, wind and hail, made the face of nature black and dismal. There was something frightfully congenial in this uproar of the contending elements with the storm raging in Bacon's heart, as he rushed from the scene of the catastrophe we have just witnessed. The darkness which succeeded the lurid and sulphureous flashes was not more complete and unfathomable than the black despair of his own soul. These vivid contrasts of light and gloom were the only stimulants of which he was susceptible, and they were welcomed as the light of his path! By their guidance he wildly rushed to his stable, saddled, led forth, and mounted his noble charger, his own head still uncovered. For once the gallant animal felt himself uncontrolled master of his movements, fleet as the wind his nimble heels measured the narrow limits of the island. A sudden glare of intense light served for an instant to reveal both to horse and rider that they stood upon the brink of the river, and a single indication of the rider's will was followed by a plunge into the troubled waves. Nobly and majestically he rose and sank with the swelling surges. His master sat erect in the saddle and felt his benumbed faculties revived, as he communed with the storm. The raging elements appeared to sympathize with the tumult of his own bosom. He laughed in horrid unison with the gambols of the lightning, and yelled with savage delight as the muttering thunder rolled over his head.
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