| | 41 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mary Hollis  | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Many persons, in the village of ———, in Massachusetts,
remember Mary Lowe, a diligent, ingenious
little girl of a respectable family, who was left an orphan
when quite young, with a very slender provision,
which her guardians wisely expended, in obtaining for
her a decent education and the tayloring trade. She
went from house to house, eating her bread in singleness
of heart. She was approved by the elderly and
judicious, for her prudent, industrious, and quiet ways;
and she made herself the delight of all the children, by
her obliging disposition and good humour. The little
boys said, “Mary would always put pockets in their
clothes;” and the older boys, who longed to be emancipated
from the indignity of having their clothes made
by a woman-taylor, were still conciliated by Mary's
gentle manners, and a little, too, by the smart look
which she contrived to give to their apparel. I think
I can see her now bending over her goose, and as it
heavily trod the seams, singing some playful song to
the little group around her; and smiling and blushing
as she caught the approving glances of the elders of
the family. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 42 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | On the last day of June, in the
year —, a small vessel, which traversed
weekly the waters of Lake Champlain,
was seen slowly entering one of the
most beautiful bays of that most beautiful
lake. A travelling carriage with
handsome equipments, a coachman in
livery and an outrider, were drawn up
on the shore, awaiting the approach of
the vessel. On the deck stood a group
of travellers for whom the equipage
was destined: a beautiful young woman,
and her attendant, a female slave, were
surveying it with pleased and equal
eagerness, while the father of the young
lady seemed quite absorbed in the contemplation
of a scene which poetry and
painting have marked for their own.
Not a breeze stirred the waters; their
mirror surface was quite unbroken, save
where the little vessel traced its dimpled
pathway. A cluster of islands lay in
beautiful fraternity opposite the harbour,
covered with a rich growth of wood,
and looking young, and fresh, and
bright, as if they had just sprung from
the element on which they seemed to
repose. The western shore presented
every variety of form; wooded headlands
jutting boldly into the lake, and
richly cultivated grounds sloping gently
to its margin. As the traveller's delighted
eye explored still farther, it
B 2
rested on the mountains that rise in four
successive chains, one above the other,
the last in the far distance dimly defining
and bounding the horizon. A cloud
at this moment veiled the face of the
sun, and its rich beams streamed aslant
upon the mountain tops, and poured
showers of gold and purple light into
the deep recesses of the valleys. Mr.
Redwood, a true admirer of nature's
lovely forms, turned his unsated gaze to
the village they were approaching,
which was indicated by a neat church
spire that peered over the hill, on the
height and declivities of which were
planted several new and neat habitations.
“Oh Caroline, my child,” exclaimed
the father, “was there ever
any thing more beautiful!” “Some months have elapsed, dear
Alsop, since we parted, and parted with
a truly juvenile promise to keep up
an unremitting epistolary intercourse.
And this I believe is the first essay made
by either of us; a fair illustration of the
common proportion which performance
bears to such promises. You, no doubt,
have been roving from pleasure to pleasure,
with an untiring impulse, and your
appetite, like the horse-leech, has still
cried, `give, give.' If one of your
vagrant thoughts has strayed after me,
you have doubtless fancied me immured
in my study, pursuing my free inquiries,
abandoning the fallen systems of vulgar
invention, and soaring far over the
misty atmosphere of imposture and credulity.
Or, perhaps, you deem that I
have adopted your sapient advice, have
returned to my home a dutiful child,
gracefully worn the chains of filial obedience,
made my best bow to papa, and
with a, `just as you please, Sir,' fallen,
secundum artem, desperately in love
with my beautiful, and beautifully rich
cousin; have rather taken than asked
her willing hand, and thus opened for
myself the path of ambition, or the
golden gates that lead to the regions of
pleasure, and which none but fortune's
hand can open, But, alas! the most
reasonable hopes are disappointed by
our fantastic destiny. We are the sport
of chance; and as we confess no other
deity, you are bound not to deride any
of the whimsical dilemmas into which
his votaries are led. Alsop, you have
often commended the boldness of my
mind, while you laughed at a certain
involuntary homage I paid to the beautiful
pictures of goodness, which some
dreaming enthusiasts have presented to
us, or to the moral beauty which among
all the varieties of accidental combination,
is sometimes exhibited in real
life. “I am grateful for your interest, and
convinced by your arguments that I
ought no longer to doze away my brief
existence in this retirement. I have obtained
my father's consent to the arrangement
you propose; and what is still
more indispensable, an ample supply in
consideration of a promise I have given
to him, that I will solicit the hand of my
cousin immediately after my return. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 43 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | Those only who have observed the
magical effect produced upon a young
lady by the presence of a candidate for
her favour, whom she deems it worth
her efforts to obtain or retain, can have
an adequate notion of the change wrought
on Caroline Redwood since the arrival
of the Westalls. Instead of the listless,
sullen girl, who yawned away her days
in discontent or apathy, she became spirited,
active, and good-humoured. Even
her interest in the concerns of Ellen
Bruce, and her suspicions of that artless
girl's designs, were suspended in the
ardour of her present pursuit, and she
seemed to think of nothing and to care
for nothing but how she should secure
the triumph of her vanity. Every one
noticed the change; (excepting Ellen,
who had of late almost wholly withdrawn
from the family circle) indeed, it
was so manifest that Miss Deborah, who
had taken a decided dislike to Caroline,
and who was rather remarkable for the
inveteracy of her opinions, was heard to
say, that “since the girl's sweetheart
had come, she was as bright as a September
day after the fog was lifted; but
for her part she liked to see people have
sunshine within them like Ellen.” This
declaration was made by Miss Debby in
an imprudently loud tone of voice, as
she stood at a window gazing on Mr.
Redwood's carriage that had been ordered
for an afternoon's drive. Mr. Redwood,
Caroline, and Mrs. Westall were
B 2
already in the carriage, and Charles
Westall had returned to the parlour in
quest of some article Mr. Redwood had
forgotten; while he was looking for it,
Deborah's comment fell on his ear, and
probably gave a new direction to his
thoughts, for during the ride Caroline
rallied him on his extraordinary pensiveness;
and finally perceiving that his
gravity resisted all her efforts to dissipate
it, she proposed that if he had not lost
the use of his limbs as well as of his
tongue, he should alight from the carriage
with her and walk to a cottage, to
which they perceived a direct path
through a field, while the carriage approached
by the high road which ran
along the lake shore and was circuitous.
Westall assented rather with politeness
than eagerness; but when he was alone
with Caroline, when she roused all her
powers to charm him, he yielded to the
influence of her beauty and her vivacity.
Never had she appeared so engaging—
never so beautiful—the afternoon was
delicious—their path ran along the skirts
of an enchanting wood—its soft shadows
fell over them, the birds poured forth
their melody; and, in short, all nature
conspired to stimulate the lover's imagination
and to quicken his sensibility.
Charles forgot the sage resolutions he
had made to withhold his declaration till
he had satisfied certain doubts that had
sometimes obtruded on him, that all in
Caroline was not as fair and lovely as it
seemed; he forgot Miss Deborah's hint
—forgot every thing but the power and
the presence of his beautiful companion,
and only hesitated for language to express
what his eyes had already told her.
At this moment both his and Miss Redwood's
attention was withdrawn from
themselves to a little girl who appeared
at the door of the cottage, from which
they were now not many yards distant.
On perceiving them she bounded over
the door step, then stopped, put up her
hand to shade her eyes from the sun,
and gazed fixedly on them for a moment,
then again sprang forward, again stopped,
covered her eyes with both her
hands, threw herself at full length on the
grass, laid her ear to the ground and
seemed for a moment to listen intently;
she then rose, put her apron to her eyes
and appeared to be weeping, while she
retraced her way languidly to the cottage.
Caroline and Westall, moved by
the same impulse, quickened their pace,
and in a few moments reached the cottage
door, to which a woman had been
attracted by the sobs of the child, and
was expostulating with her in an earnest
tone. “God help us, Peggy, you'll just
ruin all if you go on in this way;” she
paused on perceiving that the child had
attracted the attention of the strangers;
and in reply to Westall's asking what
ailed the little girl, she said, “it's just
her simplicity, Sir; but if you and the
lady will condescend to walk into my
poor place here, I will tell you all about
it, or Peggy shall tell it herself, for when
she gets upon it her tongue runs faster
than mine: but bless me, here comes a
grand coach—look up, Peggy, you never
saw a real coach in your life.” Peggy
now let fall the apron with which she
had covered her face—a face if not
beautiful, full of feeling and intelligence.
She seemed instantly to forget her affliction,
whatever it was, in the pleasure of
gazing on the spectacle of the real coach.
“Ah, aunt Betty,” she exclaimed, “it
is the grand sick gentleman that is staying
at Mr. Lenox's.” The carriage drew
up to the door, and Mrs. Westall and
Mr. Redwood, attracted by the uncommonly
neat appearance of the cottage,
alighted and followed Caroline and
Charles, who had already entered it.
The good woman, middle-aged and of a
cheerful countenance, was delighted with
the honour conferred on her, bustled
around to furnish seats for her guests—
shook up the cushion of a rocking chair
for Mr. Redwood, and made a thousand
apologies for the confusion and dirt of
her house, which had the usual if not the
intended effect of calling forth abundance
of compliments on its perfect order
and neatness. “And now, Peggy,” she
said, as soon as they were all quietly
seated, “take the pitcher and bring some
cold water from the spring, that's what
the poor have, thank God, as good as
the rich, and it is all we have to offer.”
The little girl obeyed, and as soon as she
was out of hearing, the woman turned to
Westall. “It was your wish, Sir, to
know what ailed the child; the poor
thing has just got the use of her eyesight,
and she has been expecting some
one that she loves better than all the
world; and when she saw this young
lady with you, she thought it was her
friend—though to be sure she is shorter
than this lady; but then Peggy, poor
thing, does not see quite right yet, and
then when she is puzzled she just lies
down to the ground as you saw her, for
that was her way to listen, and she knows
Miss Ellen's step, for as light as it is,
when my poor ear can't hear a sound.” | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 44 | Author: | Sedgwick
Catharine Maria
1789-1867 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Redwood | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | | | | Description: | It was a fine afternoon in the month
of August when our travellers passed
the romantic road which traverses the
mountain that forms the eastern boundary
of the valley of Hancock. The
varied pleasures they had enjoyed during
the day, and the excitement of drawing
near to the object of their long journey,
animated them both with unusual spirits.
Deborah's tongue was voluble in praise
of the rich farms that spread out on the
declivities of the hills, or embosomed in
the protected vallies, called forth, as
they deserved, the enthusiastic commendations
of our experienced rustic. Ellen
listened in silence while she gazed with
the eye of an amateur upon this beautiful
country, which possesses all the elements
of the picturesque. Green hills
crowned with flourishing villages—village
spires rising just where they should
rise; for the scene is nature's temple, and
the altar should be there—lakes sparkling
like gems in the distant vallies—Saddle
mountain lifting his broad shoulders to
the northern sky, and the Catskills defining
with their blue and misty outline
the western horizon. “I guess you will be surprised to see
my pot-hooks and trammels, and puzzled
enough you will be to read them;
but I could not let so good an opportunity
pass without letting you know that
the Lord has spared our lives to this date,
and that all your friends at Eton are
well, except the minister, who enjoys
a poor state of health. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 45 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Last of the Mohicans | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Leather-stocking tales | leather stocking tales | | | | Description: | It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of
North America, that the toils and dangers of the wilderness
were to be encountered, before the adverse
hosts could meet in murderous contact. A wide,
and, apparently, an impervious boundary of forests,
severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of
France and England. The hardy colonist, and the
trained European who fought at his side, frequently
expended months in struggling against the rapids of
the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the
mountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit
their courage in a more martial conflict. But, emulating
the patience and self-denial of the practised
native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;
and it would seem, that in time, there was
no recess of the woods so dark, nor any secret place
so lovely, that it might claim exemption from the inroads
of those who had pledged their blood to satiate
their vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish
policy of the distant monarchs of Europe. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 46 | Author: | Cooper
James Fenimore
1789-1851 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | The Last of the Mohicans | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Leather-stocking tales | leather stocking tales | | | | Description: | The bloody and inhuman scene which we have
rather incidentally mentioned than described, in the
close of the preceding volume, is conspicuous in the
pages of colonial history, by the merited title of
“The massacre of William Henry.” It so far deepened
the stain which a previous and very similar
event had left upon the reputation of the French
commander, that it was not entirely erased by his
early and glorious death. It is now becoming obscured
by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm
died like a hero on the plains of Abraham, have
yet to learn how much he was deficient in that moral
courage, without which no man can be truly great.
Pages might be written to prove, from this illustrious
example, the defects of human excellence; to
show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high
courtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence
beneath the chilling ascendency of mistaken
selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who
was great in all the minor attributes of character,
but who was found wanting, when it became necessary
to prove how much principle is superior to policy.
But the task would exceed our fanciful prerogatives;
and, as history, like love, is so apt to surround
her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary
brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Véran
will be viewed by posterity only as the gallant defender
of his country, while his cruel apathy on the
shores of the Oswego and of the Horican, will be
forgotten. Deeply regretting this weakness on the
part of our sister muse, we shall at once retire from
her sacred precincts, within the proper limits of our
own humbler vocation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 47 | Author: | Hawthorne
Nathaniel
1804-1864 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mosses from an Old Manse | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books | | | | Description: | In the latter part of the last century, there lived a man of science—
an eminent proficient in every branch of natural philosophy—who,
not long before our story opens, had made experience of a spiritual:
affinity, more attractive than any chemical one. He had left his,
laboratory to the care of an assistant, cleared his fine countenance
from the furnace-smoke, washed the stain of acids from his fingers,
and persuaded a beautiful woman to become his wife. In those
days, when the comparatively recent discovery of electricity, and
other kindred mysteries of nature, seemed to open paths into the
region of miracle, it was not unusual for the love of science to rival
the love of woman, in its depth and absorbing energy. The higher
intellect, the imagination, the spirit, and even the heart, might all-find
their congenial aliment in pursuits which, as some of their
ardent votaries believed, would ascend from one step of powerful
intelligence to another, until the philosopher should lay his hand
on the secret of creative force, and perhaps make new worlds for
himself. We know not whether Aylmer possessed this degree of
faith in man's ultimate control over nature. He had devoted himself,
however, too unreservedly to scientific studies, ever to be weaned
from them by any second passion. His love for his young wife
might prove the stronger of the two; but it could only be by
intertwining itself with his love of science, and uniting the strength
of the latter to its own. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 48 | Author: | Hawthorne
Nathaniel
1804-1864 | Requires cookie* | | | Title: | Mosses from an Old Manse | | | | Published: | 1997 | | | | Subjects: | University of Virginia Library, Modern English collection | UVA-LIB-Text | University of Virginia Library, Early American Fiction, 1789-1875 | UVA-LIB-EarlyAmFict1789-1875 | Wiley and Putnam's library of American books | wiley and putnams library of american books | | | | Description: | We, who are born into the world's artificial system, can never
adequately know how little in our present state and circumstances
is natural, and how much is merely the interpolation of the perverted
mind and heart of man. Art has become a second and
stronger Nature; she is a step-mother, whose crafty tenderness
has taught us to despise the bountiful and wholesome ministrations
of our true parent. It is only through the medium of the
imagination that we can lessen those iron fetters, which we call
truth and reality, and make ourselves even partially sensible what
prisoners we are. For instance, let us conceive good Father
Miller's interpretation of the prophecies to have proved true. The
Day of Doom has burst upon the globe, and swept away the whole
rece of men. From cities and fields, sea-shore, and mid-land
mountain region, vast continents, and even the remotest islands of
the ocean—each living thing is gone. No breath of a created
being disturbs this earthly atmosphere. But the abodes of man,
and all that he has accomplished, the foot-prints of his wanderings,
and the results of his toil, the visible symbols of his intellectual
cultivation, and moral progress—in short, everything
physical that can give evidence of his present position—shall
remain untouched by the hand of destiny. Then, to inherit and
repeople this waste and deserted earth, we will suppose a new
Adam and a new Eve to have been created, in the full development
of mind and heart, but with no knowledge of their predecessors,
nor of the diseased circumstances that had become encrusted
around them. Such a pair would at once distinguish between
art and nature. Their instincts and intuitions would immediately
recognize the wisdom and simplicity of the latter, while the
former, with its elaborate perversities, would offer them a continual
succession of puzzles. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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