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1Author:  Ingraham J. H. (Joseph Holt) 1809-1860Add
 Title:  The silver bottle, or, The adventures of "Little Marlboro" in search of his father  
 Published:  1997 
 Subjects:  University of Virginia Library, Text collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 
 Description: I am `Little Marlboro'.' That is my name, I may as well say at once. I dare say there are better names, and I dare say there are much worse names; but good or bad my name is Little Marlboro', and neither more nor less than Little Marlboro'! But let me begin at the beginning! for as I intend to write a true and veracious history of my life, I wish to start fair with my reader, giving and taking no advantage in the outset. I am stranger to you! You may never behold me again, yet I am about to cast myself upon your heart! I am about to entrust to you what is dearer to me than life—my infant child! Circumstances of the most painful character, which I cannot at present control and which may bind me till death releases me from this sad world, compel me to deny myself longer the blessed privilege of a mother. I must separate from my child, perhaps never more to clasp it to my bleeding bosom. I have been three days seeking somewhere to leave it,—alas, to leave it among strangers—unknowing and unknown. But no where could I desert it hitherto. The hour of delay cannot be extended. Providence I feel has brought me to your roof. Your heart is kind—for your voice and face are kindly and benevolent. I have had repeated to me your language at the table, and my heart has confidence in you. To you, then, dear madam, I entrust my little boy—my babe! my heart's idol. God forgive me, if I am committing a crime. But it is not mine to choose. I must part with my babe. I shall leave it in the bed. With it you will also find a package of its clothing. Take my child, cherish it tenderly for the poor mother's sake who is denied the trust, she now makes over to you with a broken heart.' Sir,—I have seen an advertisement this morning in one of the papers offering a reward of one hundred dollars for any information touching a device of an eagle treading upon a serpent. Although I do not covet the reward, I desire to serve you, if I can do so. Your advertisement brought to my recollection, a carriage which I painted twenty years ago (for I am by occupation a painter) on which I painted this very device, as I find on referring to my book where I keep patterns of every thing I have ever done in that way. The carriage was a double barouche, light yellow, and highly burnished. Trusting this little information I can give you may be of some service, I remain, I DEPARTED from Boston in the Acadia Steamship the Monday following the close of the First Series of my narration, and arrived here in safety three days ago. I have already stated that by the generosity of my kind foster-mother, Dame Darwell, I was amply provided with means to prosecute my search. According to my promise the reader shall now hear of my progress in a series of letters which I shall transmit to them in recompense for their indulgence in following me thus far in my narrative* *We have thought best to give the letters as they are, instead of bringing them into a narrative form. .
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