| | 61 | Author: | Hale
Sarah Josepha Buell
1788-1879 | Add | | | 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 |
| 62 | Author: | Halpine
Charles G.
(Charles Graham)
1829-1868 | Add | | | 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 |
| 63 | Author: | Harris
George Washington
1814-1869 | Add | | | 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 |
| 64 | Author: | Harte
Bret
1836-1902 | Add | | | 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 |
| 65 | Author: | Harte
Bret
1836-1902 | Add | | | 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 |
| 66 | Author: | Holmes
Mary Jane
1825-1907 | Add | | | 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 |
| 67 | Author: | Jones
J. B.
(John Beauchamp)
1810-1866 | Add | | | 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 |
| 70 | Author: | Phelps
Elizabeth Stuart
1844-1911 | Add | | | Title: | Hedged in | | | | 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: | “HOUSES in streets are the places to live
in”? Would Lamb ever have said it
if he had spent, as I did, half a day in, and in
the region of, No. 19 Thicket Street, South
Atlas? “And how, if it were lawful, I could pray for
greater trouble, for the greater comfort's sake.”
John Bunyan provided you and me with a morning's
discussion when he said that. Do you remember?
Because I am writing to you, and
because Nixy sits studying beside me, are reasons
sufficient why I should recall the words on this
particular occasion. I am crowded for time, but I write to
tell you — for I would prefer that you should
hear it from me — that we have at length identified
and brought home Eunice's child. Whatever there is to tell you this time
is the quiet close of a stormy epoch in our
family history, — rich in wrecks, like all stormy
things. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 71 | Author: | Warner
Anna Bartlett
1824-1915 | Add | | | Title: | Dollars and cents | | | | 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: | I WAS but a young thing, not yet
“Standing with reluctant feet
Where the brook and river meet,
Womanhood and childhood fleet”—
when there came a change in our outward circumstances.
During my first years, we had enjoyed what some of our
ancestors had toiled for; and my father after each day's
soaring and diving into philosophy and science walked about
our garden in silk stockings and with a rose in his mouth,—
at that time I was a little thing that the rose-bushes looked
down upon. And I looked up to them, with admiring eyes
that often went higher still, and took in the straw hat that
Mr. Howard wore of an afternoon: certainly that hat was
a miracle for all purposes of shade and adornment. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 74 | Author: | Evans
Augusta J.
(Augusta Jane)
1835-1909 | Add | | | Title: | Vashti, or, "Until death us do part" | | | | 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: | “I CAN hear the sullen, savage roar of the breakers, if
I do not see them, and my pretty painted bark —
expectation — is bearing down helplessly upon them.
Perhaps the unwelcome will not come to-day. What then? I
presume I should not care; and yet, I am curious to see him, —
anxious to know what sort of person will henceforth rule the
house, and go in and out here as master. Of course the pleasant,
peaceful days are at an end, for men always make din and strife
in a household, — at least my father did, and he is the only one I
know much about. But, after all, why borrow trouble? — the
interloper may never come.” “I congratulate you, my young friend, on the correctness of
your French themes, which I leave in the drawer of the library-table.
When I return I will examine those prepared during my
absence; and, in the interim, remain, “Dr. Grey: For God's sake come as quick as possible.
I am afraid my mother is dying. “Edith, — No lingering vestige of affection, no remorseful
tenderness, prompted that mission from which I have recently
returned, and only the savage scourgings of implacable duty
could have driven me, like a galley-slave, to my hated task.
The victim of a horrible and disfiguring disease which so completely
changed his countenance that his own mother would
scarcely have recognized him, — and the tenant of a charity hospital
in the town of —, I found that man who has proved the
Upas of your life and of mine. During his delirium I watched
and nursed him — not lovingly (how could I?) but faithfully,
kindly, pityingly. When all danger was safely passed, and his
clouded intellect began to clear itself, I left him in careful
hands, and provided an ample amount for his comfortable
maintenance in coming years. I spared him the humiliation
of recognizing in his nurse his injured and despised wife; and,
as night after night I watched beside the pitiable wreck of a
once handsome, fascinating, and idolized man, I fully and freely
forgave Maurice Carlyle all the wrongs that so completely
stranded my life. To-day he is well, and probably happy, while
he finds himself possessed of means by which to gratify his
extravagant tastes; but how long his naturally fine constitution
can hold at bay the legion of ills that hunt like hungry wolves
along the track of reckless dissipation, God only knows. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 77 | Author: | Winthrop
Theodore
1828-1861 | Add | | | Title: | John Brent | | | | 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: | I write in the first person; but I shall not
maunder about myself. I am in no sense the
hero of this drama. Call me Chorus, if you
please, — not Chorus merely observant and impassive;
rather Chorus a sympathizing monitor
and helper. Perhaps I gave a certain crude
momentum to the movement of the play, when
finer forces were ready to flag; but others bore
the keen pangs, others took the great prizes,
while I stood by to lift the maimed and cheer
the victor. “We are hastening on. I can write you but
one word. Our journey has been prosperous.
Mr. Armstrong is very kind. My dear father,
I fear, is shattered out of all steadiness. God
guard him, and guide me! My undying love
to your friend. “We sail at once for home. My father cannot
be at peace until he is in Lancashire again.
Don't forget me, dear friends. I go away sick
at heart. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 79 | Author: | Woolson
Constance Fenimore
1840-1894 | Add | | | Title: | Castle nowhere | | | | 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: | NOT many years ago the shore bordering the head
of Lake Michigan, the northern curve of that
silver sea, was a wilderness unexplored. It is a wilderness
still, showing even now on the school-maps
nothing save an empty waste of colored paper, generally
a pale, cold yellow suitable to the climate, all
the way from Point St. Ignace to the iron ports on
the Little Bay de Noquet, or Badderknock in lake
phraseology, a hundred miles of nothing, according to
the map-makers, who, knowing nothing of the region,
set it down accordingly, withholding even those
long-legged letters, “Chip-pe-was,” “Ric-ca-rees,” that
stretch accommodatingly across so much townless territory
farther west. This northern curve is and always
has been off the route to anywhere; and mortals, even
Indians, prefer as a general rule, when once started,
to go somewhere. The earliest Jesuit explorers and
the captains of yesterday's schooners had this in common,
that they could not, being human, resist a crosscut;
and thus, whether bark canoes of two centuries
ago or the high, narrow propellers of to-day, one and
all, coming and going, they veer to the southeast or
west, and sail gayly out of sight, leaving this northern
curve of ours unvisited and alone. A wilderness
still, but not unexplored; for that railroad of the
future which is to make of British America a garden
of roses, and turn the wild trappers of the Hudson's
Bay Company into gently smiling congressmen, has it
not sent its missionaries thither, to the astonishment
and joy of the beasts that dwell therein? According
to tradition, these men surveyed the territory, and
then crossed over (those of them at least whom the
beasts had spared) to the lower peninsula, where,
the pleasing variety of swamps being added to the
labyrinth of pines and sand-hills, they soon lost
themselves, and to this day have never found what
they lost. As the gleam of a camp-fire is occasionally
seen, and now and then a distant shout heard
by the hunter passing along the outskirts, it is supposed
that they are in there somewhere, surveying
still. “Respected Sir, — I must see you, you air in
danger. Please come to the Grotter this afternoon
at three and I remain yours respectful, “Mr. Solomon Bangs: My cousin Theodora Wentworth
and myself have accepted the hospitality of
your house for the night. Will you be so good as
to send tidings of our safety to the Community, and
oblige, “E. Stuart: The woman Dorcas Bangs died this
day. She will be put away by the side of her husband,
Solomon Bangs. She left the enclosed picture,
which we hereby send, and which please acknowledge
by return of mail. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 80 | Author: | unknown | Add | | | Title: | The arrow of gold, or, The shell gatherer | | | | 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 young man, about eighteen years of age,
five feet ten inches high, with brown complexion,
dark hazel eyes very bright, and black
curling hair, left the Arrow Inn on the morning
of the 27th, to go to St. James's Palace. He
was an entire stranger in London; and, as he has
not returned, and had considerable money in his
purse, it is feared he has met with foul play, or
is lost. He wore a snuff-colored Lincolnshire
frock, blue kersey trowsers, and a brown seal-skin
cap with a visor. He has a proud air, and
is gentle-spoken. “Dear Dame Cresset: I lost my way—I
was pressed in a man-of-war—I am now a prisoner.
This man, Bolton, says he will give you
this, if he escapes free. Take care of my things!
I do not know the name of the ship—but I hope
yet to escape, sooner or later. Farewell. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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