Bookbag (0)
Search:
Path::2006_12 in subject [X]
University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 in subject [X]
Modify Search | New Search
Results:  56 ItemsBrowse by Facet | Title | Author
Sorted by:  
Page: Prev  1 2 3
Subject
collapsePath
collapse2006_12
collapseuvaBook
collapsetei
eaf448.xml (1)
eaf576v1.xml (1)
eaf576v2.xml (1)
eaf586.xml (1)
eaf590.xml (1)
eaf591.xml (1)
eaf594.xml (1)
eaf595.xml (1)
eaf596.xml (1)
eaf597.xml (1)
eaf598.xml (1)
eaf599.xml (1)
eaf600.xml (1)
eaf601.xml (1)
eaf620.xml (1)
eaf623.xml (1)
eaf626.xml (1)
eaf627.xml (1)
eaf630.xml (1)
eaf631.xml (1)
eaf632.xml (1)
eaf633.xml (1)
eaf635.xml (1)
eaf636.xml (1)
eaf637.xml (1)
eaf638v1.xml (1)
eaf638v2.xml (1)
eaf640.xml (1)
eaf641.xml (1)
eaf644.xml (1)
eaf645.xml (1)
eaf647v1.xml (1)
eaf647v2.xml (1)
eaf648.xml (1)
eaf649v1.xml (1)
eaf649v2.xml (1)
eaf650.xml (1)
eaf657.xml (1)
eaf658.xml (1)
eaf666.xml (1)
eaf667.xml (1)
eaf668.xml (1)
eaf669.xml (1)
eaf670.xml (1)
eaf672.xml (1)
eaf678.xml (1)
eaf680.xml (1)
eaf681.xml (1)
eaf683.xml (1)
eaf684.xml (1)
eaf685.xml (1)
eaf689.xml (1)
eaf690.xml (1)
eaf691.xml (1)
eaf694.xml (1)
eaf695.xml (1)
UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 (56)
UVA-LIB-Text (56)
University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875[X]
University of Virginia Library, Text collection (56)
Date
expand2003 (56)
41Author:  Roe Edward Payson 1838-1888Requires cookie*
 Title:  Barriers burned away  
 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: From its long sweep over the unbroken prairie, a heavier blast than usual shook the slight frame house. The windows rattled in the casements, as if shivering in their dumb way in the December storm. So open and defective was the dwelling in its construction, that eddying currents of cold air found admittance at various points—in some instances carrying with them particles of the fine, sharp, hail-like snow that the gale was driving before it in blinding fury. “Dear Mother:—I arrived safely, and am very well. I did not, yesterday, find a situation suited to my taste, but expect better success to-day. I am just on the point of starting out on my search, and when settled will write you full particulars. Many kisses for yourself and the little girls. Your affectionate son, “My dear Wife:—Perhaps before this reaches you, our best friend, our human saviour, will be in heaven. There is a heaven, I believe as I never did before; and when Mrs. Fleet prays the gate seems to open, and the glory to stream right down upon us. But I fear now that not even her prayers can keep him. Only once he knew her; then he smiled and said, “Mother, it is all right,” and dropped asleep. Soon fever came on again, and he is sinking fast. The doctor shakes his head and gives no hope. My heart is breaking. Marguerite, Mr. Fleet is not dying a natural death; he has been slain. I understand all his manner now, all his desperate hard work. He loved one above him in wealth—none could be above him in other respects —and that one was Miss Ludolph. I suspected it, though, till delirious, he scarcely ever mentioned her name. But now I believe she played with his heart—the noblest that ever beat—and then threw it away, as it were a toy instead of the richest offering ever made to a woman. Proud fool that she was; she had done more mischief than a thousand such frivolous lives as hers can atone for. I can write no more—my heart is breaking with grief and indignation.” “Would Miss Ludolph be willing to come and see a dying woman? “I have been compelled to supply your place in your absence: therefore your services will be no longer needed at this store. Inclosed you will find a check for the small balance still due you.
 Similar Items:  Find
42Author:  Roe Edward Payson 1838-1888Requires cookie*
 Title:  From jest to earnest  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: ON a cloudy December morning, a gentleman, two ladies, and a boy, stepped down from the express train at a station just above the Highlands on the Hudson. A double sleigh, overflowing with luxurious robes, stood near, and a portly coachman with difficulty restrained his spirited horses while the little party arranged themselves for a winter ride. Both the ladies were young, and the gentleman's anxious and almost tender solicitude for one of them seemed hardly warranted by her blooming cheeks and sprightly movements. A close observer might soon suspect that his assiduous attentions were caused by a malady of his own rather than indisposition on her part. IT is a common impression that impending disasters cast their shadows before; and especially in the realm of fiction do we find that much is made of presentiments, which are usually fulfilled in a very dramatic way. But the close observer of real life, to a large degree, loses faith in these bodings of ill. He learns that sombre impressions result more often from a defective digestion and disquieted conscience than any other cause; and that, after the gloomiest forebodings, the days pass in unusual sereneness. Not that this is always true, but it would almost seem the rule. Perhaps more distress is caused by those troubles which never come, but which are feared and worried over, than by those which do come, teaching us, often, patience and faith. “Mr. Hemstead, I sincerely ask your forgiveness for my folly, which you cannot condemn as severely as I do. Though unworthy, indeed, of your friendship and esteem, can you believe that I am not now the weak, wicked creature that I was when we first met? But I have not the courage to plead my own cause. I know that both facts and appearances are against me. I can only ask you, Who told His disciples to forgive each other, `seventy times seven'? “My Friend: “I am in receipt of your splendid book. It is full of valuable information, not only to beginners but to those of the ripest experience. In fact, it is the most elegant in its illustrations and execution, comprehensive in its investigations, and judicious in its teachings, of any work on the same subject ever published in our country. More than this, it is a fine illustration of what industry, intelligence, and devotion can accomplish. I give it a hearty welcome. Success to `Success with Small Fruits.'
 Similar Items:  Find
43Author:  Roe Edward Payson 1838-1888Requires cookie*
 Title:  Opening a chestnut burr  
 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: `SHALL I ever be strong in mind or body again?” said Walter Gregory with irritation as he left the sidewalk and crowded into a Broadway omnibus. “Mr. Gregory:—I think your course toward Mr. Hunting to-day, was not only unjust, but even ungentlemanly. You cannot hurt his feelings without hurting mine. I cannot help feeling that your hostility is both unreasonable and implacable. In sadness and disappointment,
 Similar Items:  Find
44Author:  Roe Edward Payson 1838-1888Requires cookie*
 Title:  What can she do?  
 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 was a very cold blustering day in early January, and even brilliant thronged Broadway felt the influence of winter's harshest frown. There had been a heavy fall of snow which, though in the main cleared from the sidewalks, lay in the streets comparatively unsullied and unpacked. Fitful gusts of the passing gale caught it up and whirled it in every direction. From roof, ledges, and window sills, miniature avalanches suddenly descended on the startled pedestrians, and the air was here and there loaded with falling flakes from wild hurrying masses of clouds, the rear guard of the storm that the biting northwest wind was driving seaward. “In your request and reproaches, I see the influence of another mind. Left to yourself you would not doubt me. And yet such is my love for you, I would comply with your request were it not for what passed that fatal evening. My feelings and honor as a man forbid my ever meeting your sister again till she has apologized. She never liked me, and always wronged me with doubts. Elliot acted like a fool and a villain, and I have nothing more to do with him. But your sister, in her anger and excitement, classed me with him. When you have been my loved and trusted wife for some length of time, I hope your family will do me justice. When you are here with me you will soon see why our marriage must be private for the present. You have known me since you were a child. I will be true to my word and will do exactly as I agreed. I will meet you any evening you wish on the down boat. Awaiting your reply with an anxiety which only the deepest love can inspire, I remain “I am going, Edith, to meet Mr. Van Dam, as he told me. I cannot—I will not believe that he will prove false to me. I leave his letter, which I received to-day. Perhaps you never will forgive me at home; but whatever becomes of poor little Zell, she will not cease to love you all. I would only be a burden if I stayed. There will be one less to provide for, and I may be able to help you far more by going than staying. Don't follow me. I've made my venture, and chosen my lot. “Mother, Edith, farewell! When you read these sad words I shall be dead. I fear death—I cannot tell you how I fear it, but I fear that dreadful gulf which daily grows nearer more. I must die. There is no other resource for a poor, weak woman like 16 me. If I were only strong—if I had only been taught something—but I am helpless. Do not be too hard upon poor little Zell. Her eyes were blinded by a false love; she did not see the black gulf as I see it. If God cares for what such poor forlorn creatures as I do, may He forgive. I have thought till my brain reels. I have tried to pray, but hardly knew what I was praying to. I don't understand God—He is far off. The world scorns us. There is none to help. There is no other remedy save the drug at my side, which will soon bring sleep which I hope will be dreamless. Farewell! “Miss Edith Allen: You need not fear that I shall offend again by either writing or speaking such rash words as those which so deeply pained you this morning. They would not have been spoken then, perhaps never, had I not been startled out of my self-control—had I not seen that you suspected me of evil. I was very unwise, and I sincerely ask your pardon. But I meant no wrong, and as you referred to my sister, I can say, before God, that I would shield you as I would shield her. “Guilliam:—You cannot know where I am. You cannot know what has happened. You could not be such a fiend as to cast me off and send me here to die—and die I shall. The edge of the grave seems crumbling under me as I write. If you have a spark of love for me, come and see me before I die. Oh, Guilliam, Guilliam! what a heaven of a home I would have made you, if you had only married me. It would have been my whole life to make you happy. I said bitter words to you—forgive them. We both have sinned—can God forgive us? I will not believe you know what has happened. You are grieving for me—looking for me. They took me away while you were gone. Come and see me before I die. Good-bye. I'm writing in the dark —I'm dying in the dark—my soul is in the dark— I'm going away in the dark—where, O God, where?
 Similar Items:  Find
45Author:  Sargent Epes 1813-1880Requires cookie*
 Title:  Peculiar  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: IT is a small and somewhat faded room in an unpretending brick house in one of the streets that intersect Broadway, somewhere between Canal Street and the Park. A woman sits at a writing-table, with the fingers of her left hand thrust through her hair and supporting her forehead, while in her right hand she holds a pen with which she listlessly draws figures, crosses, circles and triangles, faces and trees, on the blotting-paper that partly covers a letter which she has been inditing. DEAR HENRY: You kindly left word for me to write you. I have little of a cheering nature to say in regard to myself. We have moved from the house in Fourteenth Street into a smaller one nearer to the Park and to Mr. Charlton's business. His complaints of his disappointment in regard to my means have lately grown more bitter. Your allowance, liberal as it is, seems to be lightly esteemed. The other day he twitted me with setting a snare for him by pretending to be a rich widow. O Henry, what an aggravation of insult! I knew nothing, and of course said nothing, as to the extent of your father's wealth. I supposed, as every one else did, that he left a large property. His affairs proved to be in such a state that they could not be disentangled by his executors till two years after his death. Before that time I was married to Mr. Charlton. “To Carberry Ratcliff, Esq.: — Sir: By the time this letter reaches you I shall be out of your power, and with my freedom assured. Still I desire to be at liberty to return to New Orleans, if I should so elect, and therefore I request you to name the sum in consideration of which you will give me free papers. A friend will negotiate with you. Let that friend have your answer, if you please, in the form of an advertisement in the Picayune, addressed to “To Estelle: For fifty dollars, I will give you the papers you desire. “What shall I call thee? Dearest? But that word implies a comparative; and whom shall I compare with thee? Most precious and most beloved? O, that is not a tithe of it! Idol? Darling? Sweet? Pretty words, but insufficient. Ah! life of my life, there are no superlatives in language that can interpret to thee the unspeakable affection which swells in my heart and moistens my eyes as I commence this letter! Can we by words give an idea of a melody? No more can I put on paper what my heart would be whispering to thine. Forgive the effort and the failure. “Judge Onslow, late of Mississippi, and his son saved themselves by swimming. Among the bodies they identified was that of Mrs. Berwick of New York, wounded in the head. From the nature of the wound, her death must have been instantaneous. Her husband was badly scalded, and, on recognizing the body of his wife, and learning that his child was among the drowned, he became deeply agitated. He lingered till the next day at noon. The child had been in the keeping of a mulatto nurse. Mr. Burgess of St. Louis, who was saved, saw them both go overboard. It appears, however, that the nurse, with her charge in her arms, was seen holding on to a life-preserving stool; but they were both drowned, though every effort was made by Colonel Hyde, aided by Mr. Quattles of South Carolina, to save them. “To Perdita: I shall not be able to see you again to-day. Content yourself as well as you can in the company of Mozart and Beethoven, Bellini and Donizetti, Irving and Dickens, Tennyson and Longfellow. The company is not large, but you will find it select. Unless some very serious engagement should prevent, I will see you to-morrow. “Dear Brother: I have called, as you requested, on Mr. Charlton in regard to his real estate in New Orleans. Let me give you some account of this man. He is taxed for upwards of a million. He inherited a good part of this sum from his wife, and she inherited it from a nephew, the late Mr. Berwick, who inherited it from his infant daughter, and this last from her mother. Mother, child, and father — the whole Berwick family — were killed by a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi some fifteen or sixteen years ago. “Will you come and dine with me at five to-day without ceremony? Please reply by the bearer. “I thank you for all the hospitality I have received at your hands. Enclosed you will find my hotel bill receipted, also five dollars for the use of such dresses as I have worn. With best wishes for your mother's restoration to health and for your own welfare, I bid you good by. “Stricken down by a death-wound, I write this. When it reaches you, my son, you will be the last survivor of your family. The faithful negro who bears this letter will tell you all. You may rely on what he says. This crafty, this Satanic Slave Power has — I can use the pen no longer. But I can dictate. The negro must be my amanuensis.” “This Slave Power, which, for many weeks past, has been hunting down and hanging Union men, has at last laid its 14 * U bloody hand on our innocent household. Should you meet Colonel A. J. Hamilton,* * Late member of Congress from Texas. In his speech in New York (1862) he said: “I know that the loyalists of Texas have died deaths not heard of since the dark ages until now; not only hunted and shot, murdered upon their own thresholds, but tied up and scalded to death with boiling water; torn asunder by wild horses fastened to their feet; whole neighborhoods of men exterminated, and their wives and children driven away.” It is estimated by a writer in the New Orleans Crescent (June, 1863), that at least twenty-five hundred persons had been hung in Texas during the preceding two years for fidelity to the Union. The San Antonio (Texas) Herald, a Rebel sheet of November 13th, 1862, taunted the Unionists with the havoc that had been made among them! It says: “They (Union men) are known and will be remembered. Their numbers were small at first, and they are becoming every day less. In the mountains near Fort Clark and along the Rio Grande their bones are bleaching in the sun, and in the counties of Wire and Denton their bodies are suspended by scores from black-jacks.” Such are the shameless butchers and hangmen that Slavery spawns! he will tell you something of what the pro-slavery butchers have been doing. “The scoundrels have cut the telegraph wires, and we can't communicate with the forts. I leave here at once to engage a boat for the pursuit. Shall go in her myself. You must do this one thing for me without fail: Take up your abode at once, this very night, in my house, and stay there till I come back. Use every possible precaution to prevent another escape of that young person of whom I spoke to you. Do not let her move a step out of doors without you or your agents know precisely where she is. I shall hold you responsible for her security. I may not be back for a day or two, in which case you must have my wife's interment properly attended to. “Dear Mr. Vance: On leaving you at the Levee I drove straight for the stable where my horses belonged. I passed the night with my friend Antoine, the coachman. The next day I went to your house, where I have stayed with those kind people, the Bernards, ever since. “Do not think me fanciful, Mr. Vance, but the moment I set eyes on this young woman the conviction struck me, She is the lost Clara for whom we are seeking. The coincidence of age and the fact that I have had the search of her on my mind, may fully explain the impression. May. But you know I believe in the phenomena of Spiritualism. Belief is not the right word. Knowledge would be nearer the truth. “My dear little Granddaughter: This comes to you from one to whom you seem nearer than any other she leaves behind. She wishes she could make you wise through her experience. Since her heart is full of it, let her speak it. In that event, so important to your happiness, your marriage, may you be warned by her example, and neither let your affections blind your reason, nor your reason underrate the value of the affections. Be sure not only that you love, but that you are loved. Choose cautiously, my dear child, if you choose at all; and may your choice be so felicitous that it will serve for the next world as well as this. “Poor Peek, — rather let me say fortunate Peek! He fell nobly, as he always desired to fall, in the cause of freedom and humanity. His son, Sterling, is now with me; a bright, brave little fellow, who is already a great comfort and help.” “My dear Cousin: I received last night your letter from Meade's headquarters. 'T was a comfort to be assured you escaped unharmed amid your many exposures.
 Similar Items:  Find
46Author:  Sigourney L. H. (Lydia Howard) 1791-1865Requires cookie*
 Title:  Lucy Howard's journal  
 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: Wednesday, August 1st, 1810.
 Similar Items:  Find
47Author:  Simms William Gilmore 1806-1870Requires cookie*
 Title:  The cassique of Kiawah  
 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: Suppose the day to be a fine one — calm, placid, and without a cloud — even such a day as frequently comes to cheer us in the benign and bud-compelling month of April; — suppose the seas to be smooth; at rest, and slumbering without emotion; with a fair bosom gently heaving, and sending up only happy murmurs, like an infant's after a late passion of tears; suppose the hour to be a little after the turn of noon, when, in April, the sun, only gently soliciting, forbears all ardency; sweetly smiles and softly embraces; and, though loving enough for comfort, is not so oppressive in his attachments as to prompt the prayer for an iceberg upon which to couch ourselves for his future communion; supposing all these supposes, dear reader, then the voyager, running close in for the land — whose fortune it is to traverse that portion of the Atlantic which breaks along the shores of Georgia and the Carolinas — beholds a scene of beauty in repose, such as will be very apt to make him forgetful of all the dangers he has passed!
 Similar Items:  Find
48Author:  Simms William Gilmore 1806-1870Requires cookie*
 Title:  Charlemont, or, The pride of the village  
 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 stormy and rugged winds of March were overblown — the first fresh smiling days of April had come at last — the days of sunshine and shower, of fitful breezes, the breath of blossoms, and the newly-awakened song of birds. Spring was there in all the green and glory of her youth, and the bosom of Kentucky heaved with the prolific burden of the season. She had come, and her messengers were everywhere, and everywhere busy. The birds bore her gladsome tidings to “Alley green, Dingle or bushy dell of each wild wood, And every bosky bourn from side to side—” nor were the lately-trodden and seared grasses of the forests left unnoted; and the humbled flower of the wayside sprang up at her summons. Like some loyal and devoted people, gathered to hail the approach of a long-exiled and well-beloved sovereign, they crowded upon the path over which she came, and yielded themselves with gladness at her feet. The mingled songs and sounds of their rejoicing might be heard, and far-off murmurs of gratulation, rising from the distant hollows, or coming faintly over the hilltops, in accents not the less pleasing because they were the less distinct. That lovely presence which makes every land blossom, and every living thing rejoice, met, in the happy region in which we meet her now, a double tribute of honor and rejoicing. “Dear Barnabas: The strangest adventure — positively the very strangest — that ever happened to a son of Murkey's, will keep me from the embraces of the brethren a few weeks longer. I am benighted, bewildered, taken with art-magic, transmuted, transmogrified, not myself nor yet another, but, as they say in Mississippi, `a sort of betweenity.' Fancy me suddenly become a convert to the bluest presbyterianism, as our late excellent brother Woodford became, when he found that he could not get Moll Parkinson on any other terms — and your guess will not be very far from the true one. I am suddenly touched with conviction. I have seen a light on my way from Tarsus. The scales have fallen from my eyes. I have seen the wickedness of my ways, and yours too, you dog; and, having resolved on my own repentance, I am taking lessons which shall enable me to effect yours. Precious deal of salt will it need for that! Salt river will fall, while its value rises. But the glory of the thing — think of that, my boy! What a triumph it will be to revolutionize Murkey's! — to turn out the drinkers, and smokers, and money-changers; to say, `Hem! my brethren, let us pay no more taxes to sin in this place!' There shall be no more cakes and ale. Ginger shall have no heat i' the mouth there; and, in place of smoking meats and tobacco, give you nothing but smoking methodism! Won't that be a sight and a triumph which shall stir the dry bones in our valley — ay, and bones not so dry? There shall be a quaking of the flesh in sundry places. Flam will perish in the first fit of consternation; and if Joe Burke's sides do not run into sop and jelly, through the mere humor of the thing, then prophecy is out of its element quite. “Sir: If I understood your last assurance on leaving you this day, I am to believe that the stroke of my whip has made its proper impression on your soul — that you are willing to use the ordinary means of ordinary persons, to avenge an indignity which was not confined to your cloth. If so, meet me at the lake with whatever weapons you choose to bring. I will be there, provided with pistols for both, at any hour from three to six. I shall proceed to the spot as soon as I receive your answer. “I will meet you as soon as I can steal off without provoking suspicion. I have pistols which I will bring with me.
 Similar Items:  Find
49Author:  Simms William Gilmore 1806-1870Requires cookie*
 Title:  The forayers, or, The raid of the dog-days  
 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 district of Orangeburg, in South Carolina, constitutes one of the second tier (from the seaboard) of the political and judicial divisions or districts of that state. It is a vast plain, with a surface almost unbroken, in the southern and western portions, by elevations of any sort. In this region, it is irrigated by numerous watercourses, rivers, and creeks, that make their way through swamps of more or less width and density. These are all thickly covered with a wild and tangled forest-growth, skirted with great pines, and dwarf-oaks, to say nothing of a vast variety of shrub-trees; the foliage of which, massed together by gadding vines, usually presents, in midsummer, the appearance of a solid wall, impervious to sight and footstep. “These, old Sinkeler, are to signify that ef you don't surrender up our friend and brother officer and sodger, Leftenant Joel Andrews sometimes called `Hell-fire Dick,' of his royal majesty's regiment of loyal rangers, third company of foragers, we'll have your heart's blood out of your body, and thar shant be stick or stone standing of your big house after we've gone through it. These is to say to you that you must give him up to the barrer of dispatches, in hafe an hour after you reads 'em, or you may expeck the eternal vengeance of all consarned. “If he of H— D— [Holly-Dale] is honest, and will speak the truth, giving proof as he promises, he shall have the guaranty which he seeks. I will give him the meeting. See to the arrangemeuts for it as soon as possible. We have reached that stage of the game, when the loss of a pawn may be that of a castle; when the gain, even of a pawn, may enable us to give check-mate to a king! “Let him of H. D. know that I see no reason to depart from our arrangement as originally made. “I shall take the liberty, my dear Captain Porgy, of bringing with me a couple of additional guests, in General Greene and Colonel Lee, knowing that your provision will not only be ample, but that the taste which usually presides over your banquets will give to our friends from Rhode Island and Virginia such a notion of the tastes of Apicius and Lucullus, as certainly never yet dawned upon them in their own half-civilized regions. Your own courtesy will do the rest and will, I trust, sufficiently justify the confidence with which I have insisted upon their coming.
 Similar Items:  Find
50Author:  Simms William Gilmore 1806-1870Requires cookie*
 Title:  The golden Christmas  
 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 was during that premature spell of cold weather which we so unseasonably had this year in October,—anticipating our usual winter by a full month or more,—cutting off the cotton crop a fourth, and forcing us into our winter garments long before they were ordered from the tailor,—when, one morning, as I stood shivering before the glass, and clumsily striving, with numbed fingers, to adjust my cravat à la nœud Gordien,—my friend, Ned Bulmer, burst into my room, looking as perfect an exquisite as Beau Brummell himself. He was in the gayest clothes and spirits, a thousand times more exhilarated than usual—and Ned is one of those fellows upon whom care sits uneasily, whom, indeed, care seldom sets upon at all! He laughed at my shiverings and awkwardness, seized the ends of my handkerchief, and, with the readiest fingers in the world, and in the most perfect taste, adjusted the folds of the cravat, and looped them up into a rose beneath my chin, in the twinkling of an eye, and to my own perfect satisfaction.
 Similar Items:  Find
51Author:  Simms William Gilmore 1806-1870Requires cookie*
 Title:  Marie de Berniere  
 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: “Start not, dear Marie; nor, if possible, exhibit the least surprise or emotion as you discover the writing to be mine, or note the character of its contents. At all events, make no remark on what you read, and let your answer be in writing also, and addressed to Madame de Chateauneuve, though really intended for myself. There are reasons, believe me, for all these precautions. In brief, dear Marie, I have come to the conclusion, after deep study and long reflection, that you are the victim of a cunning and monstrous imposition, to combat which, successfully, requires the utmost vigilance, and a distrust even of the walls of your chamber. So well am I persuaded of this, that I feel it unwise to whisper to you here the several processes of reasoning by which I have reached these suspicions, or to urge my inquiries farther towards a discovery of the truths. My purpose, therefore, is to entreat that, if you really love me, if you really desire my happiness, as well as your own, and, if you would really revolt at the idea of being deluded by a most audacious piece of jugglery, you will contrive to give me a meeting at my sister's to-morrow morning at 11 o'clock; when I will unfold to you the whole progress of my conjectures. In consenting to this arrangement, I must warn you to suffer no person to know your intentions, not even your servants. Do not order your carriage, but wait for that of Madame de Chateauneuve, who will call for you, a little before this hour. Let me implore you, dear Marie, to accede to this application. Your health will now admit—nay, require some such exercise; exertion, and the fresh pure air of these pleasant days will exhilarate and strengthen you. Supposing even that the decree which you have heard is really the voice of an almighty Providence, His benevolence will not be offended, nor His sense of authority outraged, if you resort to all reasonable and proper means to be assured of its divine origin. Scripture itself counsels us that the world shall be full of false prophets and false signs in these latter days—and there are spirits of evil as well as of good—perhaps a far greater number, who are still permitted, for purposes of mischief, to hover around the habitations of earth. You owe it to me, dear Marie, no less than to yourself —to my future and my heart as well as your own— not to yield to a decree which threatens the wreck of both, until it has been narrowly searched by every probe and principle which human reason has ever invented or conceived for the detection of error, and the discovery of truth. As this revelation appears to be so entirely miraculous—so far beyond all the ordinary events of life—it requires that it should be scrutinized in proportion to its eccentricity, and in just degree with the vital interests which depend upon its execution. Yield to this entreaty, dear Marie, even though you should persist, finally, in the cruel resolution to hearken to no other from the lips of one whose every prayer will still eternally be yours. “Sense of duty, &c. Foreclosure of mortgage, &c. Unavoidable, &c. Very sorry, &c. “Dear Sir: Meeting with the sheriff, and being in want of a sufficient force for my Cedar Island plantation, I have ventured to assume your bond, with interest, being perfectly satisfied to pay the same price for the negroes at which you bought them. As I hold them to be amply worth the amount, I leave it entirely with yourself to retain them, if you please, paying me at your leisure; though I should prefer to have them, on my assumption of your several responsibilities in regard to this property. Whatever may be your decision, which you can make at your leisure, it will at least be proper that they should remain in your keeping until after the holidays. Very faithfully, and with great respect, I am, my dear sir,
 Similar Items:  Find
52Author:  Smith Seba 1792-1868Requires cookie*
 Title:  'Way down East, or, Portraitures of Yankee life  
 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 pilgrim fathers of New England, and their children of the first and second generations, are justly renowned for their grave character, their moral uprightness, which sometimes was rather more than perpendicular, and the vigilant circumspection which each one exercised over his neighbor as well as himself. It is true that Connecticut, from an industrious promulgation of her “Blue Laws,” has acquired more fame on this score than other portions of the “universal Yankee nation,” but this negative testimony against the rest of New England ought not to be allowed too much weight, for wherever the light of history does gleam upon portions further “Down East,” it shows a people not a whit behind Connecticut in their resolute enforcement of all the decencies of life, and their stern and watchful regard for the well-being of society. The justice of this remark will sufficiently appear by a few brief quotations from their judicial records. In the name of Captain Kidd, Amen.—On Jewell's So saying, he opened the paper, which was so much worn at the folds as to drop into several pieces, and read from it as follows:-- PAGE 180. 689EAF. Illustration page. A man sits at a table and reads from a piece of paper. Two other men are looking on listening as he reads the paper. One is stting at the table and the other is standing hunched over the table, leaning forward. There is a woman standing behind the table who is listening in as well. Island, near the harbor of Falmouth, in the District of Maine, is buried a large iron pot full of gold, with an iron cover over it, and also two large iron pots full of silver dollars and half dollars, with iron covers over them; and also one other large iron pot, with an iron cover over it, full of rich jewels, and gold rings and necklaces, and gold watches of great value. In this last pot is the paper containing the agreement of the four persons who buried these treasures, and the name of each one is signed to it with his own blood. In that agreement it is stated that this property belongs equally to the four persons who buried it, and is not to be dug up or disturbed while the whole four are living, except they be all present. And in case it shall not be reclaimed during the lifetime of the four, it shall belong equally to the survivors, who shall be bound to each other in the same manner as the four were bound. And in case this property shall never be dug up by the four, or any of them, the last survivor shall have a right to reveal the place where it is hid, and to make such disposition of it as he may think proper. And in that same paper, the evil spirit of darkness is invoked to keep watch over this money, and to visit with sudden destruction any one of the four who may violate his agreement. This property was buried at the hour of midnight, and only at the hour of midnight can it ever be reclaimed. And it can be obtained only in the most profound silence on the part of those who are digging for it. Not a word or syllable must be uttered from the time the first spade is struck in the ground, till a handful of the money is taken out of one of the pots. This arrangement was entered into with the spirit of darkness, in order to prevent any unauthorized persons from obtaining the money. I am the last survivor of the four. If I shall dispose of this paper to any one before my death, or leave it to any one after I am gone, he may obtain possession of this great treasure by observing the following directions. Go to the north side of the island, where there is a little cove, or harbor, and a good landing on a sandy beach. Take your compass and run by it due south a half a mile, measuring from high-water mark. Then run fifty rods east by compass, and there you will find a blue stone, about two feet long, set endwise into the ground. From this stone, measure fifteen rods brandy-way, and there, at the depth of five feet from the surface of the ground, you will find the pots of money.
 Similar Items:  Find
53Author:  Spofford Harriet Elizabeth Prescott 1835-1921Requires cookie*
 Title:  The amber gods, and other stories  
 Published:  2003 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Similar Items:  Find
54Author:  Spofford Harriet Elizabeth Prescott 1835-1921Requires cookie*
 Title:  Azarian  
 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: Life, which slips us along like beads on a leash, strung summer after summer on Ruth Yetton's thread, yet none so bright as that one where the Azarian had pictured his sunny face and all his infinite variety of pranksome ways. Ruth's mother had thrown her up in despair, as good for nothing under the sun, but her father always took her on his knee at twilight, listened to her little idealities, and dreamed the hour away with her. Yet without the mother's constructive strength, all Ruth's inherited visioning would have availed her ill.
 Similar Items:  Find
55Author:  Spofford Harriet Elizabeth Prescott 1835-1921Requires cookie*
 Title:  Sir Rohan's ghost  
 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: THERE is a Ghost in all aristocratic families, and therefore it is not to be presumed that the great house of Belvidere was destitute. But though it had dragged on a miserable existence some three hundred years without one, at last that distinction was to arrive. Sir Rohan had a Ghost. Not by any means a common ghost that appeared at midnight on the striking of a bell, and trailed its winding-sheet through the upper halls nearest the roof, but a Ghost that, sleeping or waking, never left him, a Ghost whose long hair coiled round and stifled the fair creations of his dreams, and whose white garments swept leprously into his sunshine.
 Similar Items:  Find
56Author:  Spofford Harriet Elizabeth Prescott 1835-1921Requires cookie*
 Title:  The thief in the night  
 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 garden lay sparkling under the earliest light of a June morning. A heaven everywhere a field of rose and azure soared over it; charming bird-songs trilled from its thickets; a breeze, that was only living fragrance, rifled its roses, swept up its avenues, and struck leaf and bough and blossom into light before it stripped them of their dewdrops in a shower. The Triton at the lower end of the little lake sent up a shaft of water-streams from his horn to catch the sunbeams and sprinkle them over the surface beneath, and beds of faintly blue forget-me-nots crept out to meet the pickerel-weed and lily-pads, — blue flags, and bluer weed, and waxen-white lilies just unclasping their petals, with here and there a floating ball of gold among them, — where the breeze dipped again in a shining ripple, and weeds and flags and lilies rocked and swayed before it. On the one side, the sweet-brier, climbing a pear-tree to reach the robin's nest, looked back with a hundred blushing blossoms, and blew a breath of delight to the damask-rose on the other. The damask said good-morning to the moss-rose; the moss-rose to the red; the red would have passed on the cheerful salutation, but the pale-white rose, upon its lofty stem, had been awake all night, had looked into the sick man's chamber, and learned what the ruddy-cheeked flowers, which hung their heads and went to sleep with the birds, were not to know. Nevertheless, a red-winged blackbird, lighting there and leaving, shook it so that half its petals fluttered away in pursuit; a little piece of jewel-work of a humming-bird darted by to join the frolic; a bluebird dropped a measure of melody from the spray where he was tilting, and followed after. Every thing, in all the bright and blooming garden, moved and glanced and blushed and glittered. Every thing spoke of life and joy and hope and health: nothing spoke of sad secrets or ill deeds. Every thing told of beauty and breath, the luxury of living: nothing told of death, or desolation.
 Similar Items:  Find
Page: Prev  1 2 3