Bookbag (0)
Search:
University of Virginia Library, Text collection in subject [X]
Path::2006_10 in subject [X]
Modify Search | New Search
Results:  193 ItemsBrowse by Facet | Title | Author
Sorted by:  
Page: Prev  ...  6 7 8 9 10  Next
Date
expand2006 (6)
expand2003 (30)
expand2002 (1)
expand2001 (6)
expand2000 (1)
expand1997 (4)
expand1964 (2)
expand1963 (5)
expand1962 (6)
expand1961 (5)
expand1960 (5)
expand1959 (6)
expand1958 (5)
expand1957 (5)
expand1956 (5)
expand1955 (9)
expand1954 (13)
expand1953 (12)
expand1952 (12)
expand1951 (14)
expand1950 (13)
expand1949 (12)
expand1948 (11)
expand1947 (5)
161Author:  Cummins Maria S. (Maria Susanna) 1827-1866Add
 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
162Author:  Curtis George William 1824-1892Add
 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
163Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  Honest John Vane  
 Published:  2000 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ONE of the most fateful days of John Vane's life was the day on which he took board with that genteel though decayed lady, the widow of a wholesale New York grocer who had come out at the little end of the horn of plenty, and the mother of two of the prettiest girls in Slowburgh, Mrs. Renssaelaer Smiles.
 Similar Items:  Find
164Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 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
165Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  Overland  
 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: By J. W. De Forest, Author of “Kate Beaumont,” etc.
 Similar Items:  Find
166Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 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
167Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  Seacliff, or, The mystery of the Westervelts  
 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 exactly a year since I had said good-bye to Mr. and Mrs. Westervelt, and to the two Misses Westervelt, in Switzerland. “I write this at the earnest request of my daughter, who is a friend of yours, and who wishes me to interfere between you and the slanders of a certain young man who is in the habit of visiting your country-house. My child has repeated some of these falsehoods to me, while others are of so shocking a nature that she declares she will never utter them to a human being. I will not state a single one of the vile fictions here, because I do not wish to pain you, and also because your character is so pure that you will never find it necessary to contradict them. Your friends will do that for you. But even if the slanders are not worth your notice, the slanderer ought to be punished. Of course, you will simply exclude him from your society, without explaining the reason to him or to any one else. The less said in such matters, the sooner they are over. His name is Fitz Hugh. “Dear Grandchild,—Mr. Louis Fitz Hugh has called on me and requested your hand in marriage. I am pleased with his statements, as well as his appearance; and, from what I can learn concerning him, I infer that you have made a good choice and shown your usual discretion. Your father having left me to decide concerning the acceptance of Mr. Fitz Hugh's suit, I take pleasure in saying that I see no sufficient objection to it, and that I shall be happy to welcome him into our family. I must inform you, however, that his income is small, and that, if you marry him, you must make up your mind to economy. But this will be all the better for you. I should despise a girl who would draw back from a marriage on this account. Economy is not only a virtue, but a talent; and you ought to be proud to show that you are capable of it. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary. I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority, whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary. I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority, whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary. I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority, whatever that may amount to. “Dear Sir,—I find that my son has not yet turned out that rascally Somerville, and dares not do it. I beg and insist that you take immediate measures to send him adrift, even if you and the gardener have to kick him off. He is such a notorious, dirty rogue that his mere presence is enough to ruin the name of a decent family; and, in addition, I find that he has set afloat some scandalous stories concerning my son's wife. Oust him instanter. Break his bones if necessary. I will pay all damages. My son, by my desire, will be at Seacliff to-morrow, and will support you with his authority, whatever that may amount to. “I wish you in the first place to believe that I love you from the bottom of my heart, and that never, never since our marriage have I been unfaithful to you in deed or thought. I declare this to you most solemnly, as if with my dying breath; and I will repeat it to you at the last great day; and God knows that it is the truth. Do not, I beg of you, believe one word that Mr. Somerville may say against my honor as a wife. I have sins enough to answer for, but not that one.
 Similar Items:  Find
168Author:  De Forest John William 1826-1906Add
 Title:  The Wetherel affair  
 Published:  2002 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: YOUNG Mr. Edward Wetherel and his more mature friend Mr. Frank Wolverton were on the after promenade deck of the steamer Elm City, bound from New York to New Haven. “My dear, dear friend,” she began, “what shall I say to you? We must wait, and you must have patience; can't you? I hope and believe that you trust me, notwithstanding that you cannot see me. You may confide in me thoroughly. I have thought this matter all over, and, my dear, dear friend, I have prayed over it, and it seems to me that I have received some light upon it. When I remember how we were allowed to meet, and to learn to believe in each other, until it was too late to disbelieve, it seems to me that we were led by a mighty hand, a hand reaching from the other world. I think so with frequent trembling, and yet with prevailing cheerfulness. And so I shall keep my promise to you, in spite of your good uncle's warning. My dear, dear friend, the friend that has come nearest to my heart of any on earth, if you have not been always a good man heretofore, you must be a good man henceforward for my sake, as well as for far greater motives. I will not write any more, for perhaps I ought not. But I could not help writing this. What I have to ask you, then, is to have patience until we can hear from my father. Is it too much? “Dear Coz,” it ran, “I am in durance vile. I regret to darken your mind with my calamity; but school keeps not to-day, and Walter is in no set place; a thousand boys would not find him. Some one who knows me must come to the Tombs and swear that I am a harmless philosopher and no midnight villain. Such is the charge against me, that I am a midnight villain.
 Similar Items:  Find
169Author:  Derby George Horatio 1823-1861Add
 Title:  Phœnixiana; or, Sketches and burlesques  
 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: Of a Military Survey and Reconnoissance of the route from San Francisco to the Mission of Dolores, made with a view to ascertain the practicability of connecting those points by a Railroad.* * The Mission Dolores is only 2½ miles from the City Hall of San Francisco, and is a favorite suburban locality, lying within the limits of the City Survey. This fact is noted for the benefit of distant readers of these sketches. It having been definitely determined, that the great Railroad, connecting the City of San Francisco with the head of navigation on Mission Creek, should be constructed without unnecessary delay, a large appropriation ($120,000) was granted, for the purpose of causing thorough military examinations to be made of the proposed routes. The routes, which had principally attracted the attention of the public, were “the Northern,” following the line of Brannan Street, “the Central,” through Folsom Street, and “the extreme Southern,” passing over the “Old Plank Road” to the Mission. Each of these proposed routes has many enthusiastic advocates; but “the Central” was, undoubtedly, the favorite of the public, it being more extensively used by emigrants from San Francisco to the Mission, and therefore more widely and favorably known than the others. It was to the examination of this route, that the Committee, feeling a confidence (eminently justified by the result of my labors) in my experience, judgment and skill as a Military Engineer, appointed me on the first instant. Having notified that Honorable Body of my acceptance of the important trust confided to me, in a letter, wherein I also took occasion to congratulate them on the good judgment they had evinced, I drew from the Treasurer the amount ($40,000) appropriated for my peculiar route, and having invested it securely in loans at three per cent a month (made, to avoid accident, in my own name), I proceeded to organize my party for the expedition. Miss Pelican.—Never during our dramatic experience, has a more exciting event occurred than the sudden bursting upon our theatrical firmament, full, blazing, unparalleled, of the bright, resplendent and particular star, whose honored name shines refulgent at the head of this article. Coming among us unheralded, almost unknown, without claptrap, in a wagon drawn by oxen across the plains, with no agent to get up a counterfeit enthusiasm in her favor, she appeared before us for the first time at the San Diego Lyceum, last evening, in the trying and difficult character of Ingomar, or the Tame Savage. We are at a loss to describe our sensations, our admiration, at her magnificent, her superhuman efforts. We do not hesitate to say that she is by far the superior of any living actress; and, as we believe hers to be the perfection of acting, we cannot be wrong in the belief that no one hereafter will ever be found to approach her. Her conception of the character of Ingomar was perfection itself; her playful and ingenuous manner, her light girlish laughter, in the scene with Sir Peter, showed an appreciation of the savage character, which nothing but the most arduous study, the most elaborate training could produce; while her awful, change to the stern, unyielding, uncompromising father in the tragic scene of Duncan's murder, was indeed nature itself. Miss Pelican is about seventeen years of age, of miraculous beauty, and most thrilling voice. It is needless to say she dresses admirably, as in fact we have said all we can say when we called her most truthfully, perfection. Mr. John Boots took the part of Parthenia very creditably, etc., etc. Miss Pelican.—As this lady is about to leave us to commence an engagement on the San Francisco stage, we should regret exceedingly if any thing we have said about her, should send with her a prestige which might be found undeserved on trial. The fact is, Miss Pelican is a very ordinary actress; indeed, one of the most indifferent ones we ever happened to see. She came here from the Museum at Fort Laramie, and we praised her so injudiciously that she became completely spoiled. She has performed a round of characters during the last week, very miserably, though we are bound to confess that her performance of King Lear last evening, was superior to any thing of the kind we ever saw. Miss Pelican is about forty-three years of age, singularly plain in her personal appearance, awkward and embarrassed, with a cracked and squeaking voice, and really dresses quite outrageously. She has much to learn—poor thing! “PISTOL SHOOTING—A CHALLENGE. By Mr. Orion W. Mudge, Esq. The Committee on Antiquities left at once, in the night boat, for Vallejo, the residence of their Chairman, who had informed them of the existence at that place of some specimens of a substance termed “Old Monongahela” lately discovered by a scientific gentleman residing at the Capitol; —the Committee on Geology were seen eagerly inquiring for the omnibus for Yerba Buena Island; that on Ethnology appointed a sub-committee for the City of San Francisco, and made arrangements for the departure of its main body to the upper counties of the State, for the purpose of holding interviews with the primitive inhabitants, while the Castilian savant in the glazed hat, who had been appointed Chairman of the Committee on Toxicology, repaired incontinently to a drinking saloon, where he commenced a series of experiments in hydrostatics, with the endeavor to ascertain the quantity of fluid possible to be raised from a glass in a given time, by a straw applied to his mouth, which resulted so much to his satisfaction that he was seen to emerge therefrom at four o'clock on the following morning, in a high state of pleasurable excitement, chanting huskily as he meandered down the street, that highly refreshing Mexican anthem— My Dear Friend:—I presume you will be perfectly surrounded this morning, as usual, by a crowd of heartless office-seekers; I therefore take this method of addressing you. I thank God, I want no office for myself or others. You have known me for years, and have never known me to do a mean or dishonorable action. I saw W— up at Stockton the other day, and he is very anxious that I should be appointed Inspector of Steamboats. He said that I needed it, and deserved it, and that he hoped you would give it to me; but I told him I was no office-seeker—I should never ask you for any office. He said he would write to you about it. Please write to me as soon as you receive this, care of Parry & Batten. My Dear Sir:—Allow me to congratulate you on your success in obtaining your wishes. I have called twice to see you, but have not been able to find you in. You were kind enough to assure me, before leaving for Washington, that I might depend upon your friendship. I think it very improbable that I shall be re-nominated. The water-front Extension project has not been received with that favor that I expected, and what with Roman and the Whigs and that d—d Herald, I feel very doubtful. You will oblige me by retaining in your possession, until after the Convention, the office of — to the Custom House. I must look about me to command the means of subsistence. I will see you again on this subject. Mon Amie:—I ave been ver malade since that I hav arrive, I ver muche thank you for you civilite on la vapor which we come ici, juntos. The peoples here do say to me, you si pued give to me the littel offices in you customs house. I wish if si usted gustan you me shall make to be Inspectors de cigarritos. Je l' entends muy bien. Come to me see. Sir:—I have been a dimocrat of the Jackson School thank God for twenty years. If you sir had been erected to an orifice by the pusillanimous sufferings of the people as I was onst I would have no clam but sir you are appointed by Pierce for whom I voted and King who is dead as Julia's sister and I expectorate the office for which my friends will ask you sir I am a plane man and wont the orifice of Prover and taster of Brandy and wish you write to me at the Niantic where I sick three days and have to write by a young gentleman or come to see me before eleven o'clock when I generally get sick Yours Mr. Colected H—. Detor Sir:—I have held for the last four years the appointment of Surveyor of Shellfish in the Custom House, and have done my duty and understand it. I have been a Whig, but never interfered in politics, and should have voted for Pierce—it was my intention—but a friend by mistake gave me a wrong ballot, and I accidentally put it in, having been drinking a little. Dear sir, I hope you will not dismiss me; no man in this city understands a clam as I do, and I shall be very much indebted to you to keep my office for the present though have much finer offers but don't wish at present to accept. I would respectfully call the attention of the Evening Journal to the following fable, to be found in Esop's collection, page 194: On receiving my long-promised file of The Pioneer, accompanied by your affecting entreaty to “Come over into Macedonia and help us,” deeply impressed with the importance of the crisis, I rushed about this village as wildly as a fowl decapitated, but with purpose more intent. Dear Sir:—Perceiving by perusal of your interesting article on Astronomy, that you have an organ which it is presumed you would like to dispose of, I am instructed by the vestry of the meeting-house on — street, to enter into a negotiation with you for its purchase. Please state by return of mail, whether or no the organ is for sale; if so, the price, and if it is in good repair, and plays serious tunes. Lieut. —, U. S. A., San Diego, Cal. My dear Charles:—I have received your modest request of the 4th of January, that I will give you five or ten per cent. of any sum that Congress may hereafter, in its infinite beneficence, appropriate to my relief; a request which you state you make to me at the instance of “a number of officers stationed in Texas.”
 Similar Items:  Find
170Author:  Derby George Horatio 1823-1861Add
 Title:  The Squibob papers  
 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: “Dear Sir: — I am requested by a number of your brother officers, and other gentlemen, to solicit you to deliver the oration at the celebration of the approaching Fourth of July, at this post. “Dear Sir: — I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of your very polite invitation to address a number of my brother officers, and other gentlemen, on the coming glorious anniversary, at Vancouver. Dear Cate, you know I luv you mor an any uther Girle in the World, and wat's the Reson you allways want Me to tell you so. I no you ar almost gitting tired of waiting for me; I no you luv me fit to brake your hart. I no we ort to git marid, but how kin we if we kant — sa! Wat's the use in thinkin bout it. I thort wen I sold mi mule that I wud have nough to pay the precher and by you nice goun. But I tried mi luk at poker and got strapt the fust nite. Cate, you never played poker — in korse not. Wel, it's a confounded mity nice game as long as you kin sit behind a smorl par; but when you kant get a par, the pot's gone. I luv you so much, Cate, that I allmost hav a notion to sel me 1 horse wagin and buck a nite or 2 at farow; but how kin I — sa! Mi whol wagin wudent fech more an fore or 5 good staks. ile go back to the mountings an work and dig and swet and do every thing I kin to get money to git marid. I ain't any ways gelus, Cate, but pleze don't hug and kiss and set on J—n B—s lapp any noor. you know he ain't worth shaks, he kant drink mor an 3 hornes 'thout gittin tite; I kin stand up under fiftey. You know I kin lick him 2, and hav dun it and kin do it agin. But I ain't a bit gelus, I no I out to marid long ago. leven years is rether long to kort a gal, but ile hav you yit Cate. Gentlemen, — At a large and respectable meeting held by your guests this evening, in the bar room of your exquisite hotel.
 Similar Items:  Find
171Author:  Eggleston Edward 1837-1902Add
 Title:  The Circuit Rider  
 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: SUBTRACTION is the hardest “ciphering” in the book. Fifty or sixty years off the date at the head of your letter is easy enough to the “organ of number,” but a severe strain on the imagination. It is hard to go back to the good old days your grandmother talks about—that golden age when people were not roasted alive in a sleeping coach, but gently tipped over a toppling cliff by a drunken stage-driver. “Dear Sir—The engagement between us is broken off. It is my fault and not yours.
 Similar Items:  Find
172Author:  EDITED BY MRS. SARAH J. HALE.Add
 Title:  Liberia ; or, Mr. Peyton's experiments  
 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 Peytons were among the earliest settlers and largest landholders in Virginia. Their plantation stretched along one of the southern branches of James River, called Rock Creek, although, but for the overshadowing of its grander neighbor, it might well have been dignified with the name of river, for there are many celebrated streams that are neither so deep nor broad as that known simply as Rock Creek. “My dear Sir,—A week or two since I wrote you, giving a somewhat detailed statement of my proceedings here and in Paris up to that time; and now I have nothing very special to communicate, except that there is a decidedly increasing interest in England and France in favor of Liberia. By the government and people of both these countries I have been received in the most kind and flattering manner. I mentioned to you that, in consequence of the departure of the prince president for a tour in the south of France just about the time I reached Paris, I had promised to make another visit in the course of a month. Accordingly, I returned on the 15th instant, to be present and witness the entry of the president on the 16th. A brief statement of things passing under my observation, at the request of Rev. R. R. Gurley. Very dear Sir,—Your favor of July 18th came safe to hand; also the file of the “Colonization Herald,” and the religious newspapers, by Judge Benson's hand. I sincerely thank you for all. I am happy, indeed, that the coffee I sent as a token of my good wishes for you, and the good cause, reached you, and found acceptance. I hope soon to be able to send some for your market, but at present it brings us a better price on the coast; however, you did not say what price might be relied upon. I also received the letter and books from Dr. Malcom, and can say that they will prove a blessing to my Sabbath-school, particularly the class on whose account I wrote for them. In it are many men and women of families, some native youths. His books prove to be the very thing. I introduced them last Sabbath, to take up the morning lesson only; read Testaments in the evening. Our new settlement (Cresson) is going ahead; I still think it destined to be the greatest sea-port town on the coast. Dear Sir,—I write to inform you that we are all well, hoping you and family are the same. I never will forget you for the great good in telling me and my father about the land of Liberia. I have got a good home. I would not change it for any under heaven I have tried it twenty-one years. I have borne the heat and burden of the day, and it gets better and better. I was eighteen years old when I came here. I have grown to be a man; in America I never could have been a man—never would get large enough. Would my colored brethren believe this? They keep writing to me to tell them all about the country. Let me tell them a little: Liberia has raised up her bowed-down head, and has taken a stand with some of the greatest nations of the earth. She has struck off the stone that bowed us down in America. I have grown so large that I have had the honor and the pleasure of being a member of the Legislature five or six years. Did you ever hear of such a thing in America? No, no—nor never will. I was in America a few years ago; it was all the time, boy, where are you going? old man, which way? I was really tired; I wanted to be a man again; but never found it until I hit the coast of Africa. I even saw the change in the captain; he talked so familiar to you: “What is the matter, Harris? Harris is going to be a man again.” Sweet Liberia! the love of liberty keeps me here. Dear Sir,—I write you a few lines by the packet, to let you know that I have not forgotten the kindness I received from you and the Colonization Society in preparing me for this land of liberty. I never shall forget the heartfelt thankfulness due to the society for helping me and my family here. We had one of the finest passages any one could have. Plenty to eat; a good captain, and one that was kind to all in sickness and health. All hands were good to us. I have not wanted to return once since I left the United States. I was twelve days at Monrovia. It is a fine town; the people are kind, and doing well. I think this is a much better place for new beginners. I had the African fever; myself and wife both took it on the same day. We had it about fourteen days. The doctor says we are over it, though we are weak; but it is not so had as I expected. Mr. Benson is preparing a house at Cresson for me. It is a fine location for a town —the best one I have seen. I shall be the first one there. I look for more by the September vessel. I shall feel lonely for some time until more arrive. Truly I am better and better pleased with Liberia each morning when I awake and find myself in it. I could not be prevailed on by any earthly consideration to leave Liberia, or exchange it for any other country. Here I am in the land of my forefathers; here I can enjoy all those rights which a benevolent God hath so liberally vouchsafed to man; here I can exercise and improve my gifts and graces in enlightening, instructing, and exhorting the benighted sons of the forest in the truths of the Christian religion; here I can bow down in the sanctuary of the Most High, or at home, and unmolestedly worship the God of my fathers under my own vine and fig-tree, while none dareth to molest or make me afraid, here my children to their latest generation can enjoy the privileges of freemen in storing their minds with education and useful knowledge, and participating in the duties, &c., of civil government; and here I have as many political, social, and religious rights as any man any where beneath Heaven's widespread canopy. And should not these considerations endear this my own country to me? I say, from the bottom of my soul, with gratitude to my good God for what I enjoy—yes. With respect to this country, my expectations are more than realized. I have found that the opinion I formed of Liberia while in America was very nearly correct. This country is certainly a most beautiful one, and the climate delightful. I have often thought, since my arrival here, how the better class of colored people, or at least a portion of them, would flock to Liberia if they knew the real condition of the country and people. I always thought that it was their ignorance of the country that caused their opposition to it, but now I am convinced of that fact. With regard to the United States having claims on Liberia, I would ask if England, France, Prussia, and Brazil would acknowledge her independence if the United States had any rights to or claim on the country? England has made this government a present of an armed schooner, and has a consul residing here. Brazil has also a minister residing here, but of a higher grade than consul; he is chargé d'affaires. The facts are, I think, sufficient to convince any reasonable person that Liberia is really an independent republic, and that the United States has no claim to this country. There is a kind of blind prejudice which keeps most colored people from coming to this country, and for the life of me it is difficult to conceive why this prejudice exists; for in the United States we are exposed to all kinds of insults from the whites, which, in nearly every case, we dare not resent; whereas, in this country we are all equal, and can enjoy the shade of our own vine and fig-tree, without even the fear of molestation. In the United States we are considered the lowest of the low, for the most contemptible white man is better in the eyes of the law, and in the opinion of the majority of the whites, than the best colored man; whereas, on the other hand, in this country there are no distinctions of color; no man's complexion is ever mentioned as a reproach to him; and furthermore, every one has an equal chance and right of filling any office in the government that they may be qualified to fill. Liberia ought to be the most interesting country (to the colored people of the United States) in the world, from the fact that it is the only republic entirely composed of and governed by the colored people, and it is the only country where a colored man can enjoy liberty, equality, and fraternity, without having to encounter the prejudice of the whites, which exists more or less, in some degree, in every country in which the whites predominate. If this prejudice ever dies away, I believe that many generations yet unborn will have passed away before it. Although this country offers many inducements to colored people, yet it is not a paradise; it has a few unpleasant features, owing principally to its being a new country. The most unpleasant feature that I know is the acclimating fever, and that is far from being as bad as most people in the United States think it is. On account of the improvements made, such as clearing, &c., it is much more healthy here than formerly; and also, the kind of treatment best adapted to the acclimating fever is better known. The acclimating fever is nothing more than a simple chill and fever, and persons are affected with it according to the degree of care they take of themselves, and also much depends on the constitution of the person. Some persons have told me that they were sick only one day, and that slightly; while others (I speak of old settlers) had it one week, and some have had it from six months to a year or more. A person is seldom sick more than from one day to three weeks at one time. I have been in the country a little more than three months; and have had several attacks of the fever. The longest time I was confined to bed was one day and a half. The symptoms in my case were a slight chill, followed by a very high fever. I felt no pain whatever during the continuance of the fever, but always after it I would have a slight pain in the back, which soon wore off. I would sometimes be sick in the morning and well in the afternoon. I once had the fever in the forenoon, and was well enough by night to attend a tea party. I am told that all children born here, even the natives not excepted, have the fever while very young. This I have been told by mothers, and I have seen children with the fever who were born here. The general health of the place seems to be very good. A person coming here will not find large cities with splendid buildings, and large bustling populations; but we have only small villages with corresponding populations; you will not hear the sound of numerous carts, drays, &c., but all the carrying is done by native laborers, for the people have not yet begun to use horses and oxen for such purposes. Both may be had from the interior. Bullocks are brought down from the interior, but only to kill. There are at present only three horses in Monrovia; they are used only for riding. I have ridden several times myself. The buildings are generally quite plain, built of wood, stone, or brick. There are, however, some very neat brick buildings in Monrovia, and along the banks of the St. Paul's River. I made an excursion up this river a few weeks ago, and never did I enjoy a trip more than I did this one. The waters of the St. Paul's are delicious to the taste. The river is about half a mile wide; its banks are from about ten to about fifteen feet high, and lined with fine large trees with a thick undergrowth. Among the other trees may be seen the bamboo, and that most graceful of all trees, the palm. This is the most useful tree in Liberia. I have drank the wine made from this tree, and have swung on hammocks manufactured from it, and I have seen very good fishing-lines made from it; besides, numerous other uses are made of this tree. There are four villages on this river: Virginia, Caldwell, Kentucky, and Millsburgh. I saw in many places people making bricks, and busily engaged on their farms of coffee, sugar-cane, &c. I must now come to a close, as I have but little more space to write. I will remark that I advise no man to come here unless he has a little money to begin with. A single man should have at least one or two hundred dollars; although many come here without a cent, and yet do well; but it is generally difficult to get a start in this country without a little means. For my own part, you may infer from what I have said that I like my new home. Dear Sir,—I embrace this opportunity to address you a line. I am still doing what I can to demonstrate that Liberia is a rich and productive country. My crops of cane in 1850 produced 8000 lbs. of good sugar, and 500 gallons of sirup. My crop last year (1851) was not so large—only about 3500 lbs. of sugar, and 250 gallons of sirup. This falling off was in consequence of having to neglect my sugar-cane farm to give attention to J. R. Straw's cotton farm. I sell my sugar at 8 and 10 cents a pounds, which is quite a saving to the people of Liberia This year I am giving my whole attention to cane-raising, and I have a crop now in the ground which will produce a much larger quantity of sugar and sirup, and beat, possibly, both my preceding crops together. A few days ago, I, with one or two others, noticed, in many hills of cane on my farm, from forty-nine to sixty stalks. This can not easily be surpassed, I am persuaded, in any country. I am certainly fully convinced that by industry a man may have all the necessaries of life, and a surfeit of the luxuries, in this very prolific and God-blessed country. I have the privilege, doubtless, of saying what no other person can say in Liberia—certainly before any other could say it, if there is any other who can say it now —that is, I use at my table coffee, sugar, sirup, and molasses of my own raising. I have now about twenty-five hundred coffee-trees, which will very soon enable me to export a small quantity to America. Dear Mr. Rambo, I wish very much to see you. How glad and happy I should be when I meet you, and Doctor May, and Mr. Hoffman; and then—then my heart will talk to my mouth, and my tongue will speak all what I have done or seen. Reverend and Dear Sir,—In the following lines, which I have taken on myself to address you, I hope to find you in the enjoyment of good health, the same as we are at present. Our mission still continues, with its different operations, in which we are severally engaged, endeavoring daily to instruct the poor, benighted heathen. Not long ago we received a letter of instruction from our Board, that the lead of the mission affairs is now considered to be under the superintendence of my native brother and cousin, Lewis K. Crocker, at Little Bassa, and myself; which serious charge to keep we humbly depend on God to help us. Our schools are still kept daily, this, and that of Little Bassa, where brother Crocker resides. Our children are improving well in their acquisitions of the different branches of knowledge, such as spelling hard words, reading, writing, arithmetic, grammar, natural philosophy, &c. I am glad to state that the grown people of this country, though they have not the privilege of improving themselves by daily instruction, like the children, yet many of them are getting civilized, getting acquainted with the law, political economy, and secular improvement; forgetting their old habits, and adopting those of their civilized fellow-creatures. Brethren and Fellow-countrymen,—You are aware that I was appointed traveling agent to Africa on the 23d of last December, 1851, by the New York and Liberia Agricultural Association. I returned to New York on the 12th November, 1852, and it now becomes my duty to give you some account of Africa, and of the benefits to be obtained by emigration to that country, and whether there are any benefits to be obtained by so doing, or not. I will endeavor to give you as true a statement as my humble ability will admit. In truth and soberness, it would be needless for me to tell you that Africa flows with milk and honey, or that corn grows without planting. Liberia truly is a garden-spot; her lands are beautiful, her soil is most fertile, her prairies and her forests are blooming and gay, her rivers and streams abound with fish, and her forests with game. Her Constitution is a republican government, and a most excellent code of laws are strictly observed. There are several churches and schools in Monrovia, and they are well filled with people and scholars. The Monrovians are the most strictly moral, if not the most strictly religious people, I ever saw. Dear Sir,—I am well, and hope you are the same. I arrived safe after a passage of thirty-seven days from the Capes. I am happy to inform you that instead of being received in Baltimore in chains, as I was told I would be, I was received very hospitably. I am certainly grateful to the society for sending me to Africa. I am perfectly satisfied with the change, only that I had not started in 1842 instead of 1852. Here I stand erect and free, upon the soil of my ancestors, and can truly say to all of my race, you that would be free, Africa is your home, and the only home where he that is tinctured with African blood can enjoy liberty. This alone of him that loves liberty, for it is liberty alone that makes life dear. He does not live at all who lives to fear. Please say to any that may come to your office, that I say, come to Africa and assist us in raising a light that may never go out. Enterprise is what we want to make this country and people equal with any on the face of the globe. Should any of the people of Camden county, New Jersey, come to you for information, show them this letter—tell them that I say there is land enough and provision enough, by industry, for every enterprising colored man in the United States. I find in Edina a fine soil, that will raise any thing that a tropical country will produce. A fine, healthy-looking people, that are kind and benevolent—who receive the emigrants with the greatest kindness, and welcome them to the land of liberty. Most respected Sir,—Liberia is destined to be the glory, the home, and the resting-place for all the dark race. Then let them come home, and rove abroad no longer, and that the chains of all who will or could come and will not may be made tenfold faster, because here they can come and be free. I mean my brethren of color. There has been no disturbance with the republic by the natives. Dear Friend,—Through a kind Providence we landed here on the 6th instant, in forty days from Baltimore. All well. I went ashore and met for the first time in my life on the same platform with all men, and the finest people in the world. I never met with more kindness in my life, and every attention is paid to visitors. On Sabbath day there were seven flags flying in the harbor. I attended the Methodist Sabbath-school, and found it interesting; was invited to address it, and made some remarks. There were seventy-five scholars in the school. I have been up the St. Paul's River. It is the finest country in the world. Mr. Blackledge's sugar farm is splendid. Dined with Mr. Russel, Senator of New Virginia, and think his land somewhat better than some of the rest. The river is sixty feet deep. Every thing is getting along well, and all that is wanted are industrious men and good mechanics. I would say to my friends, that every thing that I have seen surpasses my expectations. Should I be spared to return, you shall see some articles that I intend bringing with me. I wish you would try to make some arrangement with the society to let me off with a free passage home, as I want to labor for the cause, and my means will be far run by the time I get to Philadelphia. Brother Williams intends doing all he can for the cause. We intend to go into the coffee business. Our object is to get five hundred acres of land in one plot, and have it settled by none but respectable people from Pennsylvania; and I think that if you could send some from Philadelphia it would have a good effect. Dear Sir,—I avail myself of the present opportunity to address you a line or two, hoping they may find you as well as they leave me. I had laid off to write to you before this, but I have not done so; however, I hope you will take the will for the deed. I have now been a resident of Liberia for upward of two years, and I think I can now safely express my opinion as regards the advantages to be gained by locating here. Unquestionably this is the place, and these are the shores which are to contain the multitudes which have for ages been laboring under the greatest disadvantages, and who have been allured into the belief that they will not be placed under the inconvenience of removing; but the time has come which proves to a demonstration, more and more, that this is a forlorn hope. Doubtless there are many who a few years ago spurned the thought of leaving, who now turn their eyes in solicitude to various parts for relief, but there is no quarter which presents equal attractions with that presented by Liberia, and they know it; and although they may be men of penetration, who foresee that something must be done, and these may be men of influence, who will exert this influence in a contrary direction, yet I believe the masses will speak for themselves, and such a mighty flood will be poured upon these shores as has not been witnessed since the world began. I have not written any on this subject, but I watched with increasing interest the “signs of the times,” as exhibited in the United States, and I am convinced that my impressions are not erroneous. There are many false representations made to deter persons who are anywise inclined to emigrate to this country, but I feel confident that those who use this means to oppose us had better begin to think of some other method, for they will ultimately be exposed in the midst of their base attempts. Truth will eventually triumph over falsehood. Gentlemen,—I promised to let you hear from me when in Liberia, Africa, but although I have been here two months, I can not at this time give you much account of the place. This little republic is so far ahead of what I expected to find it, that your good people of the United States would scarcely think I were narrating truth were I to describe all that I have seen. Liberia is a fine, fertile country. Things of every kind grow here. The people are more comfortable in every respect, and enjoy themselves much better than I have ever known them to do elsewhere. The houses are very large, and are built mostly of brick and stone; they are two stories and two stories and a half high; from 30 to 50 feet front, and from 25 to 40 feet deep. The steps to these houses are composed of iron ore—a substance on which the city is built. Iron ore is as plentiful in Monrovia as common stone is in Williamsburgh. Very dear Sir,—Fishtown was reoccupied on the 11th of October, and the settlement is progressing rapidly—far in advance of what it was before the massacre. The immigrants by the Zeno, Morgan Dix, Liberia Packet, and Ralph Cross, enjoy much better health down there than they did up at this place, and even the old settlers moving there have derived much benefit. It has already commenced attracting settlers from other settlements in this county, and I am sanguine that in one or two years it will be in advance of the other settlements of this county. Physicians pronounce it a good place for emigrants to pass through their acclimation, and I know it to be an excellent place for them to to do well after acclimation. Sharp, Till, and Taylor, by the Ralph Cross, from New Jersey, are doing pretty well for beginners. They seem to be fine, industrious people, especially the two former. They occupy three of the houses I built on the banks of the St. John's River, opposite Factory Island, by direction of your Board, and their produce is growing around them finely. They would have settled at Fishtown had it been occupied sooner. My dear Sir,—In your letter you expressed a desire to know my first impressions of Liberia and Liberian society. On my arrival at Monrovia, Mr. James very kindly invited us to spend the day at his house, which invitation we accepted. While on shore, I became acquainted with quite a number of intelligent ladies and gentlemen. The society at Monrovia I think similar to that of Philadelphia, while that at Bassa Cove and Edina I think less favorably of. I am now living at Mount Vaughan, about two and a half miles from Cape Palmas, at which place I am employed as an assistant teacher in the high school belonging to the Protestant Episcopal Mission, for which I receive three hundred dollars. The society at Palmas, when we compare the number, is equal to that of Monrovia in point of intelligence. This colony is in quite a flourishing condition. There are in Palmas seven yoke of oxen, well broken, and work quite steadily. We get the bullocks from the natives, at eight dollars a piece. I have drawn my farm land, and planted five hundred coffee-trees, twelve pounds of ginger, and a thousand cassada sticks, besides arrow-root, pea-nuts, and fruit trees. We have an abundance of fresh vegetables, egg-plants, tomatoes, and fine large cabbage. Plenty of venison, fresh fish, and oysters. We are on the eve of declaring our independence. The spirit with which the people take hold of the subject would do credit to 1776. There will be a Convention held next week, to prepare a Constitution for our new state. Dear Sir,—I received your letter in answer to mine, and was very glad to hear from you; also to receive those papers you sent me. My health and that of my family is tolerable. At present we are perfectly satisfied, and glad we came here. The society did a good part by us. I have a house and ten acres of good land; all but three acres in cultivation. I do not find it so warm here as I had been told or as I expected. I have tried both seasons. Tell the colored people they need not be afraid to come, but they must be industrious, or they had better stay where they are. I would not change homes now if they would give me five hundred dollars and free toleration. Every man can vote. I visited the courts, where I saw colored men judges, grand and petit jurymen, squires, constables, &c. Business is carried on as correctly as in the United States. Dear Sir,—You wish that I would give some statement of things in general, and in particular of the growth of cotton, rice, &c. Our answer is this: this is emphatically a tropical region, as all geographers will tell you. You have only to put your seed into the ground, and with half the labor you have to perform in the states you here may make a comfortable living. Cotton and rice grow here as well as in your Southern States. It is true, a fair trial was never made for the culture of that valuable staple (cotton), enough to prove that it can be raised in great quantity. Rice is indigenous to this country: it will grow almost any where you may plant it, on high or low land. We have coffee, potatoes, ginger, arrow-root, and pepper. There has not been much pains taken with the planting of corn; enough has been done, however, to satisfy one that it can be made, for I have eaten as much as I wanted in proof of it. Gentlemen,—Since I have been here I have done very well, better than I expected. I have bought five hundred dollars worth of goods and paid for them. I have bought ten bullocks. I have on hand one hundred bushels of rice. I paid in trade about forty cents. If I keep which I shall do three months longer, I can get $1 50 per bushel for it. I also have on hand six tons of cam-wood. I want to increase it to ten tons by next month, and shall ship it to England by the steamer on the 7th, and remit the money to New York by a bill of exchange, so as to have more funds here in the vessel which I understood will sail from New York with our emigrants in the spring. I had only eight hundred dollars worth of goods when I started from New York. I have on my shelves one thousand dollars worth now. Notwithstanding, I shall send one thousand dollars to New York after more goods. I also have fifty pounds of ivory, worth here one dollar per pound. I write this to show you what can be done here with a very little money. If a man has half what I had he would soon get rich, if he conducted himself aright; if a man has nothing, and came out under our Association, having a house and lands cleared, he would soon rise, if he has any spirit; therefore, come one, come all to the sunny climes of Africa. Sir,—As I look upon you as being an old friend of mine, I take pleasure in addressing you a few lines to let you know something about how we are getting along in Liberia, believing you to be a true friend to Liberia, and to the colored race. Mr. Williams, a free colored man of Pennsylvania, intelligent, respectable, and rich for one of his class, was sent about a year since to Liberia, by an association of his people in this state, who desired to learn the prospects that country held out for the emigrants. The following is an extract from his report:
 Similar Items:  Find
173Author:  Hale Sarah Josepha Buell 1788-1879Add
 Title:  Northwood; or, Life north and south  
 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: Sidney Romilly, the eldest of a numerous family, was a native of New Hampshire. The local situation of the little village in which he was born, offered few temptations to the speculator, and the soil promised no indulgence to the idle; but it abundantly repaid the industrious cultivator. It was therefore inhabited, almost exclusively, by husbandmen, who tilled their own farms with their own hands, laboring actively six days in the week, and on the seventh, offering, to that Being who alone could crown their labors with success, the unfeigned homage of contented minds and grateful hearts. My Dearest Mother,—I now take my pen to inform you I am well, and hope this letter will find you enjoying the same blessing. We had a very uncomfortable journey, jolting along over the rough roads, up hill and down; but we reached the end of it in safety, which I take to be a special interposition of Providence, considering the great length of the way, and my being totally unused to traveling. Mr. Brainard has a fine house, the prettiest I have seen in Charleston; and I like the house well, and I should like the place very well if it were not for the black people—niggers they call 'em here. Oh! dear mother, you know how frightened I always was at a negro—how I used to run behind your chair when old Sampson came to the door, and always screamed when he offered to step in. But, mercy! here the negroes are as thick as bees; the streets are full of 'em. I am sure I did not imagine there were so many in the universe. When our carriage drove up to the gate, out bolted a great black fellow, and Mr. Brainard shook hands with him, and was as glad to see him as could be; but I trembled all over, for I began to remember the stories I had read of slaves murdering their masters and mistresses, and many such bloody things. I guess Mr. Brainard saw I was pale, for he told me not to be frightened at Tom, who was one of the best creatures living. But when we entered the hall, there stood a row of blacks, laughing till their mouths were stretched from ear to ear, to welcome us. They all crowded round my husband, and I was so frightened, thinking some of them might have knives in their hands to kill us, that I could not help shrieking as loud as I could; and the slaves ran away, and Mr. Brainard looked angry, and I hardly know what happened next, for I believe I fainted. I am sure if I had only known this was a negro country, I never would have come here. They have a great many parties and balls here. I don't go to the balls, for I never learned to dance, and I think they are sinful; but I go to all the parties, and dress just as rich and fine as I please. I have a new head-dress, the prettiest thing my eyes ever beheld; I wish you could see it. My husband buys me every thing I ask for, and if I did not eternally see them black people about me, I should be quite happy. Every single day I am urging Mr. Brainard to send them off. 2 He always tells me it is impossible, and would be cruelty to them, as they are contented and happy, and have no other home or country where they could be received. But I intend to tease him till he does. I don't care where the creatures go to, nor much what becomes of them, if they can only be out of my sight. Pray give my love to Betty Baily, and tell her I wish she would come and live with me, and then I should want no other help. I often tell my husband I could do my work alone, but he laughs, and says, “What a ridiculous thing it would be to see you in the kitchen.” And besides, he says, no white person will live long if they attempt to labor in this warm climate. What to do, I know not, but I am determined to get the black creatures away. My Dearest Mother—I received your kind letter of February first, and I should have answered it immediately, but I have had a world of trouble of late. I do not know how to tell you what I have discovered; but yet I must, that you may pray for me, that my faith may be strengthened, and that I may be kept from temptation. I have often heard you say, the children of professors were especially protected by divine grace; and I am sure I need such protection—for, don't you think Mr. Brainard is a pope, or a papist, I forget which they call 'em, and he goes to a chapel and calls it a meeting, when it is no more like our meetings than it is like a ball. I have been twice, but I am determined to go no more, and I say everything I can against it, for it is so different from our christian worship I am sure it must be wrong. I am sure you will be very much shocked to hear of this, and I was when I discovered it; and I have a thousand times wished myself in New England. But don't say a word about it—you know who I would not have hear of it for all the world. Your letter was the first consolation I have received since we parted. You have not then forgotten me; you will not then forget me, though my father has treated you so angrily. But he is my father, and has always been so kind, I must bear with his severity now without murmuring. He says I am too young and inexperienced to know what will most conduce to my own happiness; but I know my own heart, and feel that my affections can never be altered or divided. By your letter I perceive you judge it best to accept the proposal of Mr. Lee, and perhaps it is so. O! these cruel prejudices of my father, that make such a sacrifice necessary. Why should riches be thought so indispensable to happiness? I would rather live in poverty all my life, than have you exposed to the dangers of the seas to acquire wealth. Yet, if you think it best to accept your friend's offer, I will not urge your stay; only do not let time or distance blot Zemira from your memory or your heart. You need not bid me be faithful: I cannot be otherwise, for the idea of you is blended with every thought, every sentiment, and lesson you have taught me. And when I read over those passages in my books your pencil marked, I almost fancy I can hear your voice. I shall read them constantly during your absence; but what will remind you of My Dear Romilly,—When I tell you we reached home in safety, and are now enjoying excellent health, you will know that I, at least, am happy. But it is that kind of happiness which makes no figure in description. It is the quiet consciousness of peace, the calm security of reciprocated affection, in short, the `sober certainty of waking bliss.' And for much of this felicity we must thank you; certainly for the final reconciliation, without which Zemira's mind never would have been at rest. And how shall we requite your disinterestedness?—your heroism? We pray daily that God would bless you, and assuredly He will, if to obey His command and do as you would be done by is holy in His sight. Property you do not want; yet, I will acknowledge my selfishness, I have sometimes wished you did, that we might show how highly we rate the favors you have conferred. But gold cannot gain friendship, nor can it requite the sacrifices you made for me. I will tell you how I propose to reward you—even by furnishing you with wise precepts for the better guidance of your sublunary course. You, I presume, will allow that those who have done us the most essential and generous services, are always most willing to pardon our officiousness. The inference is obvious. I feel secure of your favor although I should harass you with my old saws by way of advice. My Dear Stuart—I have made a new acquaintance, and one from which I promise myself much pleasure; yet for fear you should call me romantic, I will describe the man and relate the accident which introduced him, and then I think you will allow there is a necessity—I hope not a fatal one—for the present intercourse. “Friend Stuart,—Frankford certainly has, as you intimated, his prejudices against America; still he is a reasonable man, and although admitting conviction slowly and only on the most irrefragable proofs, yet I think he is becoming not only tolerant but liberal in his estimation of our character and customs. Neither is it strange that the aristocratical spirit of the old world should be alarmed and revolt at the democratical influence which the new is so rapidly obtaining. We cannot expect those who pride themselves on an ancestry, whose pure blood has flowed through proud veins for many hundred years, will forget at once this fancied superiority, and look on what they call our plebeian origin, without feelings of contempt. “My ever Dear Nephew:—The sickness that oppresses me, and which is hurrying me to the grave, is on my heart. I am sick of the follies and vices of the world; I am miserable when reflecting on my own. I have longed and pined to write and confide to you all my troubles and griefs; but I could not persuade myself to damp the pleasures I hoped you were enjoying with your friends. My Dear Mr. Romilly:—Your uncle is no more; and his earnest request, must be my apology for addressing you, and detailing some of the unfortunate circumstances which have occurred to him since you left the city. It is an unpleasant office, and one I would gladly have been excused from performing; but I could not refuse Mr. Brainard, and I trust your good sense will not confound the narrator of evil tidings with the unpleasant intelligence he must communicate. My ever Dear Friend,—It is but a short time since I despatched you a packet so voluminous that it might undoubtedly claim the respectable name of folio, and I then promised I would not again intrude under, at least, a quarter; but I must write, for there are feelings impossible to be restrained when we are blessed with a friend to whom they may be communicated. “My dear Miss Redington,—I hardly dare write what necessity compels me; and yet I know, in my situation, sincerity is the most atoning virtue I can practice. Let me then spare all circumlocution, and briefly state that our connexion must, from this time be at an end. Circumstances which I cannot explain make it impossible I should ever visit New England again, or not till a distant period. I lament I ever saw you; I lament our engagement. But these reflections are now too late. Write not—forget me—or think me unworthy your affection. May heaven bless you. Farewell! My Dear Romilly,—This is the third letter I have written you since the misfortunes and decease of Mr. Brainard, your excellent uncle. To the two others I have received no answer: had they reached your hand you could not have neglected me, so I flatter myself; and I must believe they miscarried. To obviate all possibility of a like fate befalling this, I have engaged Mr. Tracy, who is on a tour to Boston, a friend of mine, and one well entitled to your confidence, to take a trip to New Hampshire and deliver it into your hands. Mr. Romilly,—Sir, we have traced Cox to New Orleans, and recovered the money. It is all safe in my hands, waiting the disposal you shall order. I hope it will be convenient for you to come here immediately; indeed, it is absolutely necessary if you intend to redeem the estate of your late uncle. Dunbar was a good man, but he has transferred the property to another; subject, however, to the articles of redemption he entered into with your uncle. “Sir—I have received your letter, and am glad of your good fortune; but I think it my duty to inform you our correspondence must be at an end. I know you will want me to reside at the South; but to go there and be a partaker in the sin of slavery is what I will not do. You can doubtless find, in Charleston, some fair lady more worthy your love, and more congenial to your manner of life than my education and principles would permit me to be. You need not write, for my resolution is taken.
 Similar Items:  Find
174Author:  Halpine Charles G. (Charles Graham) 1829-1868Add
 Title:  Baked meats of the funeral  
 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: [January 1st, 1860.] My Dear Brady—Yours of the 16th, covering an invitation of the New York National Club, to pay honor to Generals Sherman and Thomas, has come to hand; but I cannot be with you, though the movement has all my sympathies. We had great difficulty in finding the right kind of tools at first; but they are now being discovered by experience: and in Sherman and Thomas, as you say, we have two of the keenest edge and finest mettle. Even had I time, why should I attend your festival? Things are all going well to-day; and it is only when disaster happens that the Secretary of War is asked after or remembered by an indignant public. THE SECESH THINK IF GRANT REMAINS IN POWER THEY ARE GONE. “Sir:—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of a communication from the Adjutant-General of the Army, dated June 13, 1862, requesting me to furnish you with the information necessary to answer certain Resolutions introduced in the House of Representatives, June 9, 1862, on motion of the Hon. Mr. Wickliffe of Kentucky— their substance being to inquire: “Sir:—While recently in command of the Department of the South, in accordance with the laws of war and the dictates of common sense, I organized and caused to be drilled, armed, and equipped a regiment of enfranchised bondmen, known as the 1st South Carolina Volunteers. “BIG THINGS AROUND—HUSH! HUSH!” “I am sorry to see such a disposition to condemn a brave old soldier, as General Hunter is known to be, without a hearing.
 Similar Items:  Find
175Author:  Harris George Washington 1814-1869Add
 Title:  Sut Lovingood  
 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: “Hole that ar hoss down tu the yeath.” “He's a fixin fur the heavings.” “He's a spreadin his tail feathers tu fly. Look out, Laigs, if you aint ready tu go up'ards.” “Wo, Shavetail.” “Git a fiddil; he's tryin a jig.” “Say, Long Laigs, rais'd a power ove co'm didn't yu?” “Taint co'n, hits redpepper.” I mayn't git the chance tu talk eny tu yu, so when Wat gits home, an' axes enything 'bout the comb an' calliker, yu tell him yer mam foun the bundil in the road. She'll back yu up in that ar statemint, ontil thar's enuf white fros' in hell tu kill snap-beans.
 Similar Items:  Find
176Author:  Harte Bret 1836-1902Add
 Title:  Mliss  
 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: Just where the Sierra Nevada begins to subside in gentler undulations, and the river grows less rapid and yellow, on the side of a great red mountain stands “Smith's Pocket.” Seen from the red road at sunset, in the red light and the red dust its white houses look like the outcroppings of quartz on the mountain-side. The red stage topped with red-shirted passengers is lost to view half a dozen times in the tortuous descent, turning up unexpectedly in out-of-the-way places, and vanishing altogether within a hundred yards of the town. It is probably owing to this sudden twist in the road that the advent of a stranger at Smith's Pocket is usually attended with a peculiar circumstance. Dismounting from the vehicle at the stage office the too-confident traveler is apt to walk straight out of town under the impression that it lies in quite another direction. It is related that one of the tunnel men, two miles from town, met one of these self-reliant passengers with a carpet-bag, umbrella, New York Mercury, and other evidences of civilization and refinement, plodding along over the road he had just ridden, vainly endeavoring to find the settlement of Smith's Pocket. “Respected Sir:—When you read this I am run away. Never to come back. Never, never never. You can give my beeds to Mary Jennings, and my Amerika's Pride (a highly-colored lithograph from a tocacco-box) to Sally Flanders. But don't you give anything to Clytie Morpher. Don't you dair to. Do you know what my oppinion of her, it is this, she is perfekly disgustin. That is all and no more at present from yours respectfully, “Judge Plunkett has just returned from the county seat. Our case is won. We leave here next week. “Dear Papa:—Please tell Mr. Gray that his protege is safe. Mr. Gray:—If you care a damn for Mliss, come and take care of her. The devil has got her, and his name is Wade. Dear Lissy:—Trust the hearer of this as you would the writer. We long for your return. Your suit is won. I would write more, but I do not know whose hands this letter may fall into. Regina sends her love. Your waiting friend, Dear Sister:—Just got a letter from Mr. Gray, telling me that I am wanted at home. Been wanting to come home for two months, but don't see just how to get away. Truth is, little Clytie is the prettest girl in Smith's Pocket, and I got a little sweet on her. Couldn't help it. That's the kind of fellow I am. Now, if you'll write to Clytie, and invite her to spend a few months with you, it'll be all right. Big brother'll go along to make sure it's all right. If you don't I'm afraid there'll be a row, and the boys up here are all crack shots Your erring brother,
 Similar Items:  Find
177Author:  Harte Bret 1836-1902Add
 Title:  Tales of the Argonauts, and other sketches  
 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: “Dear Steve, — I've been thinking over your proposition to buy Nichols's quarter-interest, and have concluded to go in. But I don't see how the thing will pay until you have more accommodation down there, and for the best class, — I mean my customers. What we want is an extension to the main building, and two or three cottages put up. I send down a builder to take hold of the job at once. He takes his sick wife with him; and you are to look after them as you would for one of us. “My dear Sir, — I do not know whether the bearer will suit you; but, unless the office of `devil' in your newspaper is a purely technical one, I think he has all the qualities required. He is very quick, active, and intelligent; understands English better than he speaks it; and makes up for any defect by his habits of observation and imitation. You have only to show him how to do a thing once, and he will repeat it, whether it is an offence or a virtue. But you certainly know him already. You are one of his godfathers; for is he not Wan Lee, the reputed son of Wang the conjurer, to whose performances I had the honor to introduce you? But perhaps you have forgotten it. “Be ready to meet your family at the new cottage on Heavytree Hill on Christmas Day. Invite what friends you choose. “O Frank! — Don't you remember what we agreed upon anent the baby? Well, consider me as dead for the next six months, or gone where cubs can't follow me, — East. I know you love the baby; but do you think, dear boy, — now, really, do you think you could be a father to it? Consider this well. You are young, thoughtless, well-meaning enough; but dare you take upon yourself the functions of guide, genius, or guardian to one so young and guileless? Could you be the Mentor to this Telemachus? Think of the temptations of a metropolis. Look at the question well, and let me know speedily; for I've got him as far as this place, and he's kicking up an awful row in the hotel-yard, and rattling his chain like a maniac. Let me know by telegraph at once.
 Similar Items:  Find
178Author:  Holmes Mary Jane 1825-1907Add
 Title:  Cousin Maude ; And, Rosamond  
 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 doin's here is wonderful, and you'd hardly know the old place. Thar's a big dining-room run out to the South, with an expansion-table mighty nigh a rod long, and what's more, it's allus full, too, of city stuck-ups— and the way they do eat! I haint churned nary pound of butter since you went away. Why, bless yer soul, we has to buy. Do you mind that patch of land what the Doctor used to plant with corn? Well, the garden sass grows there now, and t'other garden raises nothin' but flowers and strabries, and thar's a man hired on purpose to tend 'em. He's writin' this for me. Thar's a tower run up in the North-east eend, and when it's complete, she's goin' to have a what you call 'em—somethin' that blows up the water—oh, a fountain. Thar's one in the yard, and, if you'll believe it, she's got one of Cary's rotary pumpin' things, that folks are runnin' crazy about, and every hot day she keeps John a turnin' the injin' to squirt the water all over the yard, and make it seem like a thunder-shower! Thar's a bath-room, and when them city folks is here some on 'em is a washin' in thar all the time. I don't do nothin' now but wash and iron, and if I have fifty towels I have one! But what pesters me most is the wide skirts I has to do up; Miss Canady wears a hoop bigger than an amberell. They say Miss Empress, who makes these things, lives in Paris, and I wish you'd put yourself out a little to see her, and ask her, for me, to quit sendin' over them fetched hoops. Thar aint no sense in it! We've got jiggers in every chamber where the water spirts out. Besides turnin' the injin, John drives the horses in the new carriage. Dr. Canady looks poorly, and yet madam purrs round him like a kitten, but I knows the claws is thar. She's about broke him of usin' them maxims of his, and your poor marm would enjoy it a spell seein' him paid off, but she'd pity him after a while. I do, and if things continners to grow wus, I shall just ask pra'rs for him in my meetin'. Elder Blossom is powerful at that. My health is considerable good, but I find I grow old.
 Similar Items:  Find
179Author:  Jones J. B. (John Beauchamp) 1810-1866Add
 Title:  The War-path  
 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: A dense fog hung over the placid surface of the Delaware River, and enveloped in its folds many of the ancient buildings of Burlington, then the capital of the colony of New Jersey. The stately mansion of the British governor, William Franklin, situated on the beautiful green bank so much admired at the present day, was wrapped in the vapour, and, as was often said of its occupant, seemed lost in a mist. Even the haunted tree in front of the governor's residence—the witches' sycamore—was reported by fearful pedestrians to have vanished, or at least to have become invisible. “Oh, my dear Julia! I have just learned, by a letter from Mr. Cameron, brought to my father by the dumb but faithful Skippie, that you have been seized by the Indians and carried a captive into the wilderness! But the letter says a great Indian-fighter, named Hugh McSwine, and a band of Scots, are in pursuit, and will certainly overtake your captors. This is startling intelligence, indeed, and distressing, though relieved somewhat by the comfortable assurance—which is sanctioned by the prophetic looks and decisive gestures of Skippie—that you will soon be restored to your friends. And Skippie, in two words, has told me to write this letter, making me understand, I scarcely know how, that it will certainly be delivered into your hands. He sets out on his return in the morning, and I am resolved to write all night!”
 Similar Items:  Find
180Author:  Trowbridge J. T. (John Townsend) 1827-1916Add
 Title:  Martin Merrivale  
 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: 731EAF. Page 001. In-line Illustration. Image of a man and two children. Two other people in the background. “Dear brother Simeon: I don't think it advizble to trust the barer of this he is a wuthliss fellow I am nowin to the fact that he aint got a doler in the wrold I suppozed he would go rite to you to git bordid and so give him this letter to warn you aginst him I am well and hope you are injoin the same blessin. Your affectionate sister.
 Similar Items:  Find
Page: Prev  ...  6 7 8 9 10  Next