| | 61 | Author: | EDITED BY N. P. WILLIS. | Add | | | Title: | The legendary  | | | | 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: | `Have you ever read Undine, Tom? Did you conceive
of a river of wondrous and perfect beauty?
Was it fringed with all manner of stooping trees, and
kissed to the very lip by clover? Did it wind constantly
in and out, as if both banks were enamoured of its flow
and enticed it from each other's bosoms? Was it hidden
sometimes by thick masses of leaves meeting over
it, and sometimes by the swelling of a velvet slope that
sent it rippling away into shadow? and did it steal out
again like a happy child from a hiding place, and flash
up to your eye till you would have sworn it was living
and intelligent? Did the banks lean away in a rich,
deep verdure, and were the meadows sleeping beneath
the light, like a bosom in a silk mantle? and when
your ear had drank in the music of the running water,
and the loveliness of color and form had unsettled the
earthliness within you, did you believe in your heart
that a strip of Eden had been left unmarred by the angel? `She who brings you this letter is my only child—
all the treasure I possess in this world. Therefore, I
trust her to you, relying on your honor. If the walls of
Soleure fall, I shall be buried under their ruins; but if
you grant your protection to my daughter, I shall have
no more anxiety for her. Give me some token that
you grant my petition, and you will receive your reward
from that Being who watches over the innocent, and
who knows our hearts. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 65 | Author: | Jones
J. B.
(John Beauchamp)
1810-1866 | Add | | | Title: | The Winkles, or, The merry monomaniacs | | | | 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: | Babbleton was an ancient village near the city of Philadelphia.
It had a wharf where the steamboats landed, and a
depot where the locomotives whistled. Hence, although the
principal mansions were situated on commodious lots, and in
many instances separated from each other by broad yards and
close fences, it is not to be inferred there was ever a monotonous
deficiency of noise and excitement in the place. It had
its proud and its miserable, its vanities and its humiliations,
its bank and its bakers, its millionaires and its milliners; and
was not unfrequently the scene of some of those entertaining
comedies of life, which have been considered in all enlightened
countries worthy of preservation in veracious and impartial
history. Such a record we have attempted to produce; and
although the direct manner of narration adopted may offend
the taste of the fastidious critic, yet the less acutely discerning
reader may possibly deem himself compensated for the
labor of perusal, by the reliable assurance of the anthenticity
of the story, and the interest attending the occurrences flitting
before his mental vision. “My Dear Aunt:—It becomes my melancholy duty to
announce a sad calamity—an unexpected suicide—which must
affect you deeply. This morning poor Jocko was found suspended
from the eve of the portico, and quite dead. That he
did it himself, must be evident from the fact that no human
being would be likely to climb down to the edge of the roof.
It seems that he had driven a large nail into the wood through
the last link of his chain, and then sprang over, either dislocuting.
his neck, or producing suffocation. I could not hear
his struggles, from the distant chamber I occupied, or you
should not have been called upon to lament his untimely end.
Poor Jocko! As the weather is very warm, I will have his
body taken down and packed in ice. It will keep, dear aunt,
until I receive your instructions, in regard to the disposition
you would have made of it. Every thing shall be done according
to your orders. You need not hasten your return to
the city. I am quite comfortable here, and the house is kept
very quiet from morning till night. My love to mother, sister,
uncle, all. “If I see so plainly the imprudence of such disgraceful
matches in others, you may suppose I shall be careful to avoid
falling into the like silly practices myself. It is true I intend
to marry. My nuptials will be celebrated some time during
the present year. But the man of my choice will be a gentleman
of distinction—a genius of celebrity. You know him,
Walter—Mr. Pollen, the poet. If he is poor—if he has been
sometimes, as you informed me, without a shirt—that is no
disgrace. How was it with Chatterton, Defoe, and even
Milton himself? And what lady in the world would not
have been honored by being the wife of a Chatterton, a Defoe,
a Milton? Shame upon the ladies who permitted them to
languish in poverty! I will set an example for the wealthy
ladies to follow hereafter. Genius is the very highest kind of
aristocracy, because it cannot be conferred by mortal man, nor
taken away even by the detracting tongue of women. Farewell.
Present my adieus to your mother and Lucy. We
will not meet again, unless it be accidentally, and then it is
probable there will be no recognition on my part, and I desire
there shall be none on yours. You may say to Mr. Lowe that
a visit from him would be agreeable to me I believe him to
be a gentleman, and would have no objections to his society,
if he could answer one or two questions satisfactorily. You
may say to him that although I am resolved to marry, I don't
expect to feel what the silly girls call a romantic passion for
any man. I don't believe in any such nonsense. I want a
partner at whist as much as any thing else. “My Dear Niece:—I send my Edith for you, and I desire
that you will return with her, by the evening mail. She
is discreet, and no one knows her in Babbleton. By accompanying
her, your persecutor will not be able to trace you to
your asylum. Wear a thick veil, so that he may not recognize
your features when you go to the cars. You may safely
confide in Edith. She has been my confidant for many years,
as your mother knows. She was personally acquainted with
the Great Unknown—Sir Walter—and is familiar with the
plots and stratagems of villains. She reads for me every
night, and has a romantic and literary disposition. Since I
received your dear pathetic letter, I have been going over the
`Children of the Abbey' again, and find my eyes continually
suffused with the miseries of poor Amanda. My dear child!
You remind me of her so much, that I am painfully impatient
to clasp you to my heart! Do not delay a moment. My
love to sister Edith. Tell her not to insist on my Edith having
any refreshments, for she never takes any. “Dear Sir: Excuse my bad writing, for you know I write
with my left hand, and hold the paper down with my right
stump. I saw Col. Oakdale to-day, and he said you would be
home to-night, therefore I write. “Here is news from Babbleton,” said Lucy, and narrated
in my dear mother's merry vein. Listen, aunt:—“Griselda
still keeps my poor brother a close prisoner, while she dashes
about in her coach and four. But she has cut all her poor
acquaintances, and of course I am blotted out of her books.
She passes without calling, and without knowing how heartily
I laugh at the ridiculous figure she makes. But she patronized
our minister, Mr. Amble, and that is a charitable expenditure,
because the money will certainly reach the poor of
the parish. Mr. A. you know, has either nine or thirteen (I
forget which) children of his own, and they must be provided
for. I suppose it is because I could render no
assistance, that he has not called on me lately—not, I believe,
since my house was sold. Perhaps he did not hear I was the
purchaser * * * Still I think Roland is love mad. But his
passion is two-fold. He has laid regular siege to Virginia
Oakdale, who is my guest, and opens his batteries once or
twice every week, and then disappears most mysteriously. I
presume he occupies his blue carriage on the alternate days.
Virginia never refuses to see him; but the spirited girl laughs
at his pretensions, and banters him in such a moeking manner
that he must soon despair of making any progress. Why do
you not treat him in the same way? Or why do you not
marry him, and then have your revenge? It is so absurd to
see men of fortune running after the girls, and vainly teasing
them for a smile. Marry them, and they will run the other
way. Walter is still at Washington, and has not yet received
his appointment. I believe he has ceased writing to Virginia.
What does it mean? More tomfoolery? Lowe has been
absent some time—and I suppose you have seen him. Remember!
* * * We had an exciting scene in the street the
other day. Sergeant Blore, when stumping on his way to
see me, was seized by Mrs. Edwards. She demanded his
money—and he cried murder! He tripped her up with his
wooden leg and made his escape. But it seems he sprained
her ankle, and she has since threatened to bring “an haction”
against him for “hassault” and battery! You see how
husbands are served! Bill Dizzle gallants Patty O'Pan to
church every Sunday. I wrote you how Patty mortally
affronted the Arums and Crudles. She kept up till Bill
and Susan beat a retreat. It has been a mystery to me
how the impudent hussy obtained the means to perpetrate
such an annoyance. Some of her finery must have cost a
great deal of money, and no one ever supposed Lowe possessed
a superabundance of it. By the way, I forgot to
mention that Bell Arum has written home a precious budget
of news, which her mother, as usual, has published to all
her acquaintances. She says she saw you examining the
register, and that you were in the habit of wandering
about alone and unprotected. She says Mr. Lowe is likewise
in the city; and if her ma would put that and that together,
she would know as much as the writer, no doubt! And she
says they have an invitation to the aristocratic Mrs. Laurel's
parties, and that some of the British nobility of the highest rank
are expected over this winter. But (she says) if L. W. and
Mr. L. are to be met there, she is determined to expose them. “My impudent nephew Walter,
who will persist in writing me, notwithstanding I have cast
him off for sanctioning his uncle's marriage with that vulgar
bonnet-maker (I forget her name), informs me that Mr. Pollen,
the silly poet who abandoned my hospitality to borrow a few
dirty dollars of the milliner, is now working himself to death
in New York to earn a scanty living, which he might have had
for nothing by remaining here and behaving himself. He is a
fool—just like other poets who have genius, and therefore he
ought not to be permitted to kill himself. Enclosed I send a
check for a trifling sum payable to bearer, which, perhaps, with
delicate management you may induce him to make use of for
his own benefit. Perhaps he needs some new shirts. I have
seen him twice without any—and I believe he has one of
Walter's yet. Speaking of checks and of Walter, I gave my
cast-off nephew one when he was on his way to that Babylonian
rendezvous of demagogues, which, for some reason—or
rather for the want of reason—he did not use. I suppose he
gave it to some fool or other poorer than himself. But the
cashier of the bank did not pay the money. There needed
Walter's name on it, he said, written with his own hand, as it
was drawn to his order, or something of the sort, which I did
not understand, and did not choose to inquire about. Walter
says Lucy is with you. Tell her I have five letters from
Ralph Roland begging me to intercede for him. I believe him
a knave—but if he writes me again I shall also believe him in
earnest, and that the rascal is absolutely in love. It would
be a better match than her uncle's, which she attended. “It must be for me,” said Walter. “Put it on the
table. I will look at it when I have searched my pockets
once more.” Not finding the check, he opened the letter and
read as follows: “Misther Walther Wankle, Sir — I have
sane Misthress Famble and mi busnes is faxd. She seed you
at super and sez she wants to no you. She ses she liks yer
lukes, and wud like to sarve you but ses Misther Famble is
beging for a nother man. Don't be onasy she kin do mor in
a dozzin husbins. Pleases anser this and lave at the barr for
your obeydant sarvint “Would you deign to read the news here, if I promise not
to be tedious? Well, I promise. The mortgage on our house
and grounds has been paid. Will you facilitate me on that?
You must not ask where the money came from, for that is a
secret upon which to exercise your faculty of guessing. But
that is not all. Colonel Oakdale's debt to Roland has been
paid. That must be news for you. You would never guess
who loaned him the money, and I will tell you, so that you
may pour out your gratitude to him should your relations
with the family of the senator—we have just heard of his election
by the Legislature—ever become more intimate than
they have been hitherto. It was John Dowly, whom every
one supposed to be in indigent circumstances. Blessings on
my old beau. Walter never slept more soundly, or enjoyed more pleasant
dreams, than he did in prison. And he had an excellent
appetite for breakfast, which was damaged, however, by the
contents of the letters and papers brought in by his keeper. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 67 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | Westward ho! | | | | 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: | “O rare Ben Jonson!” said some one, and
O rare Beaumont and Fletcher say we; for in
honest sincerity we prefer this gentle pair to all
the old English dramatic writers except Shakspeare.
For playful wit, richness of fancy, exuberance
of invention, and, above all, for the
sweet magic of their language, where shall we
find their superiors among the British bards?
It is not for us obscure wights to put on the
critical nightcap, and, being notorious criminals
ourselves, set up as judges of others; but we
should hold ourselves base and ungrateful if
we did not seize this chance opportunity to
raise our voices in these remote regions of
the West, where, peradventure, they never
dreamed of one day possessing millions of
readers, in humble acknowledgment of the
many hours they have whiled away by the creations
of their sprightly fancy, arrayed in the
matchless melody of their tuneful verse. But
mankind must have an idol, one who monopolizes
their admiration and devotion. The name
of Shakspeare has swallowed up that of his
predecessors, contemporaries, and successors;
thousands, tens of thousands echo his name that
never heard of Marlow,—Marlow, to whom
Shakspeare himself condescended to be indebted,
and whose conception of the character of
Faust is precisely that of Goëthe;—of Webster,
Marston, Randolph, Cartwright, May, and all
that singular knot of dramatists, who unite the
greatest beauties with the greatest deformities,
and whose genius has sunk under the licentiousness
of the age in which it was their misfortune
to live. The names of Massinger, Ben
Jonson, Beaumont and Fletcher are, it is true,
more familiar; but it is only their names and
one or two of their pieces that are generally
known. These last have been preserved, not
on the score of their superior beauties, but because
they afforded an opportunity for Garrick
and other great performers to reap laurels which
belonged to the poet, by the exhibition of some
striking character. Far be it from us to attempt
to detract from the fame of Shakspeare. Superior
he is, beyond doubt, to all his countrymen
who went before or came after him, in the peculiar
walk of his genius; but he is not so immeasurably
superior as to cast all others into
oblivion; and to us it seems almost a disgrace
to England that a large portion of her own
readers, and a still larger of foreigners, seem
ignorant that she ever produced more than one
dramatist. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 68 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The book of Saint Nicholas | | | | 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: | Everybody has heard of St. Nicholas, that
honest Dutch saint, whom I look upon as having
been one of the most liberal, good-natured little
fat fellows in the world. But, strange as it may
seem, though everybody has heard, nobody seems
to know anything about him. The place of his
birth, the history of his life, and the manner in
which he came to be the dispenser of Newyear
cakes, and the patron of good boys, are matters
that have hitherto not been investigated, as they
ought to have been long and long ago. I am about
to supply this deficiency, and pay a debt of honour
which is due to this illustrious and obscure tutelary
genius of the jolly Newyear. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 69 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The old Continental, or, The price of liberty | | | | 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: | During the most gloomy and disastrous period of
our revolutionary war, there resided in the county of
Westchester a family of plain country people, who
had, in time long past, seen better days; but who
now had nothing to boast of, but a small farm, a good
name, and a good conscience. Though bred in the
city, they had lived so long in a retired part of the
country, that their habits, tastes, and manners, had become
altogether rural, and they had almost outlived
every vestige of former refinements, except in certain
modes of thinking, and acting, which had survived
in all changes of time and circumstances. Their residence
was an old stone-house, bearing the date of
1688, the figures of which were formed by Holland
bricks, incorporated with the walls. The roof
was green with mossy honours, and the entire edifice
bore testimony, not only to the lapse of time, but to
the downhill progress of its inmates. Though not in
ruins, it was much decayed; and, though with a good
rousing fire in the broad capacious chimney, it was
comfortable enough in winter, it afforded nothing
without to indicate anything but the possession of
those simple necessaries of life, which fall to the lot
of those who derive their means of happiness from
the labours of their hands, the bounties of the earth,
and the blessing of a quiet soul. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 70 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The old Continental, or, The price of liberty | | | | 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: | The old sugar-house to which our hero and his companion
in misfortune were consigned, is still standing[1]
[1]It has since been pulled down.
to remind us of the sufferings of our fathers, and the
price they paid for liberty. To those who have never
seen the building, it may not be amiss to state that it
is a large, massive, gloomy pile of red-stone, with narrow
grated windows, which gives it the air of a prison;
standing at the northeast corner of the yard of the
Dutch church fronting on Liberty street, which, during
the occupation of the city by the British, was used as
a riding-school. The aspect of the structure is forbidding,
corresponding with the recollections which will
long accompany its contemplation, by the descendants
and countrymen of many nameless and humble patriots
that here became the martyrs to the oppression of
a haughty parent, and a petty tyrant whose infamous
name is forever associated with the recollection of
their fate. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 71 | Author: | Paulding
James Kirke
1778-1860 | Add | | | Title: | The Puritan and his daughter | | | | 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: | In the reign of King Charles—courteously styled
the Martyr—there resided in an obscure corner of the
renowned kingdom of England, a certain obscure
country gentleman, claiming descent from a family
that flourished in great splendor under a Saxon monarch
whose name is forgotten. This ancient family,
like most others of great pretensions to antiquity, had
gone by as many names as certain persons who live in
the fear of the law, but finally settled down on that of
Habingdon, or Habingden, by which they were now
known. They were somewhat poor, but very proud,
and looked down with contempt on the posterity of the
upstart Normans who usurped the domains of their
ancestors. They had resided on the same spot for
more than eight hundred years, during which time,
not one of them had ever performed an act worthy of
being transmitted to posterity, with the single exception
of one Thurkill Habingdonne who flourished in
the reign of King John—of unblessed memory—and
who is recorded to have given one-third of a caracut of
land, and a wind-mill, to the priory of Monks Kirby,
“to the end,” as he expresses it, “that his obit should
be perpetually there observed, and his name written
in the Martyrologe.” It hath been a mooted point with that class of philosophical
inquirers, which so usefully occupies itself
with discussions that can never be brought to a conclusion,
whether the age gives the tone to literature,
or literature to the age. It is a knotty question, and
not being of the least consequence to any practical
purpose, it will be passed over with the single remark,
that it is quite useless for an author to write in good
taste if the public won't read, and equally idle for the
public to cherish a keen relish for polite literature, if
there are no authors to administer food to its appetite. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 72 | Author: | Pike
Albert
1809-1891 | Add | | | Title: | Prose sketches and poems | | | | 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: | The world of prairie which lies at a distance of more
than three hundred miles west of the inhabited portions of
the United States, and south of the river Arkansas and its
branches, has been rarely, and parts of it never, trodden
by the foot or beheld by the eye of an Anglo-American.
Rivers rise there in the broad level waste, of which, mighty
though they become in their course, the source is unexplored.
Deserts are there, too barren of grass to support
even the hardy buffalo; and in which water, except in
here and there a hole, is never found. Ranged over by
the Comanches, the Pawnees, the Caiwas, and other
equally wandering, savage and hostile tribes, its very
name is a mystery and a terror. The Pawnees have their
villages entirely north of this part of the country; and
their war parties—always on foot—are seldom to be met
with to the south of the Canadian, except close in upon
the edges of the white and civilized Indian settlements.
Extending on the south to the Rio del Norte, on the north
to a distance unknown, eastwardly to within three or four
hundred miles of the edge of Arkansas Territory, and
westwardly to the Rocky Mountains, is the range of the
Comanches. Abundantly supplied with good horses from
the immense herds of the prairie, they range, at different
times of the year, over the whole of this vast country.
Their war and hunting parties follow the buffalo continually.
In the winter they may be found in the south,
encamped along the Rio del Norte, and under the mountains;
and in the summer on the Canadian, and to the
north of it, and on the Pecos. Sometimes they haunt the
Canadian in the winter, but not so commonly as in the
summer. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 73 | Author: | Poe
Edgar Allan
1809-1849 | Add | | | Title: | The narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym. Of Nantucket | | | | 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: | My name is Arthur Gordon Pym. My father was a respectable
trader in sea-stores at Nantucket, where I was
born. My maternal grandfather was an attorney in good
practice. He was fortunate in everything, and had speculated
very successfully in stocks of the Edgarton New-Bank,
as it was formerly called. By these and other
means he had managed to lay by a tolerable sum of money.
He was more attached to myself, I believe, than
to any other person in the world, and I expected to inherit
the most of his property at his death. He sent me,
at six years of age, to the school of old Mr. Ricketts, a
gentleman with only one arm, and of eccentric manners
—he is well known to almost every person who has
visited New Bedford. I stayed at his school until I was
sixteen, when I left him for Mr. E. Ronald's academy
on the hill. Here I became intimate with the son of
Mr. Barnard, a sea captain, who generally sailed in the
employ of Lloyd and Vredenburgh—Mr. Barnard is also
very well known in New Bedford, and has many relations,
I am certain, in Edgarton. His son was named
Augustus, and he was nearly two years older than myself.
He had been on a whaling voyage with his father
in the John Donaldson, and was always talking to me of
his adventures in the South Pacific Ocean. I used frequently
to go home with him, and remain all day, and
sometimes all night. We occupied the same bed, and
he would be sure to keep me awake until almost light,
telling me stories of the natives of the Island of Tinian,
and other places he had visited in his travels. At last I
could not help being interested in what he said, and by
degrees I felt the greatest desire to go to sea. I owned
a sail-boat called the Ariel, and worth about seventy-five
dollars. She had a half-deck or cuddy, and was rigged
sloop-fashion—I forget her tonnage, but she would hold
ten persons without much crowding. In this boat we
were in the habit of going on some of the maddest freaks
in the world; and, when I now think of them, it appears
to me a thousand wonders that I am alive to-day. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 74 | Author: | Irving
Washington
1783-1859 | Add | | | Title: | A book of the Hudson | | | | 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: | It used to be a favorite assertion of the venerable Diedrich
Knickerbocker, that there was no region more rich in themes
for the writer of historic novels, heroic melodramas, and
rough-shod epics, than the ancient province of the New
Netherlands, and its quondam capital, at the Manhattoes.
“We live,” he used to say, “in the midst of history, mystery,
and romance; he who would find these elements, however,
must not seek them among the modern improvements and
monied people of the monied metropolis; he must dig for
them, as for Kidd the pirate's treasures, in out of the way
places, and among the ruins of the past.” Never did sage
speak more truly. Poetry and romance received a fatal blow
at the overthrow of the ancient Dutch dynasty, and have ever
since been gradually withering under the growing domination
of the Yankees. They abandoned our hearths when the old
Dutch tiles were superseded by marble chimney pieces; when
brass andirons made way for polished grates, and the crackling
and blazing fire of nut wood gave place to the smoke and
stench of Liverpool coal; and on the downfall of the last
crow-step gables, their requiem was tolled from the tower of
the Dutch Church in Nassau street, by the old bell that came
from Holland. But poetry and romance still lurk unseen
among us, or seen only by the enlightened few who are able
to contemplate the common-place scenes and objects of the
metropolis, through the medium of tradition, and clothed with
the associations of foregone ages. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 75 | Author: | Jones
J. B.
(John Beauchamp)
1810-1866 | Add | | | Title: | The western merchant | | | | 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 was born in one of the eastern cities, and was the sixth
of eleven children, of poor parents. When I was about
six years of age, my family emigrated to Kentucky, then
considered the “far west.” At the end of six years, my
father failed in business; and as he was now entirely too
poor to provide for his large family, those that were deemed
old enough sought employment to support themselves.
Nor were they wholly unprepared for the exigency; for
our honored parent, in more propitious times, had placed
the proper estimate upon the importance of education, and
from the time we were old enough to go to school, until
the loss of his fortune, (and every dollar was honorably
offered up to his creditors,) we had excellent preceptors.
Being unluckily the sixth child, I was not so far advanced
in the books as my seniors, when the disaster alluded to
befell us—but as I had the advantage of my five juniors,
there was no just cause of complaint. I had the rudiments
of a good English education, and an insatiable passion for
books, which they deemed quite sufficient for the very
humble part it seemed I was destined to play in the great
drama of life. “Dear Luke:—I cannot restrain myself any longer from
writing to you. Your last letter, informing me of your good
prospects, and of your intention to commence business for
yourself at Hanover, was directed to me, and not in an
envelope to a third person—so it fell into the hands of
my guardian-uncle, and excited his wrath and indignation
to a frightful extent. But the worst of it was that he did
not tell me what it was all about, but kept the letter himself.
Now, I am my own mistress, and have some fortune
here in old Virginia in my own right. I might at any time
13
relieve myself of his supervision, and his eccentric solicitude.
Yet as my uncles are the nearest of kin that I have,
I hope to be able to avoid a rupture with them. But to
my narration. A few days after your letter fell into his
hands, he announced his intention to take me to Virginia,
and leave me under the protection of his brother, my uncle
Edgar Beaufort. Not being aware of the cause which induced
this step on his part, I was delighted with the idea
of going back to old Virginia, and so I readily agreed to
his proposition, without paying any particular attention to
his remarks about the opportunity the change would afford
me of marrying some one of my own station, equal in birth
and fortune. “Luke, if you come to see me, remember it is merely
the careless passing visit of a friend. There is a Methodist
meeting house near the — hotel, in which they are
holding a protracted meeting. If you follow a merry little
old woman (you will know her by her shouting in the meeting
house) to her broading-house, you will find me. My
uncle is here, and might be harsh if he met you. Should
you meet, you must not resent anything he may say, and
above all, have no hostile collision with him. You must
register a promise in heaven to do as I bid, before starting
hitherward; else you have not my permission to come.
Remember “Sir—In violation of the expressed desire of my brother,
you have persisted in addressing letters to my niece; you
have not only done that, but you have had the presumption
to seek and obtain a clandestine interview with her.
Being her next of kin, and natural protector, I deem it incumbent
on me to demand, in this formal manner, the satisfaction
which one gentleman has a right to require of another
(and which no gentleman can refuse), for such an intrusive
disregard of the wishes expressed by my brother, and endorsed
by myself. “Dear Sir—I am at No. 6, — hotel, an entire stranger,
and have received a challenge from Mr. E. Beaufort to
meet him in mortal combat. I have never seen Mr. Beaufort
before to-day, and certainly never insulted or injured
him. If you will consent to give me the benefit of your
advice in the premises, I will avail myself of the opportunity
to relate all the circumstances of the case to you. “Luke:—The servant who hands you this, belongs to
me, and has informed me that my uncle has challenged
you to mortal combat. He says he heard my uncle tell
his friends that he liked your appearance so much, he was
almost sorry that he had quarreled with you, and that if
you behaved well on the field, he would tender you his
friendship, after an exchange of shots, which he hoped
might have no serious result. Now, Luke, are you willing
to fight for me? You have never said you desired to
have me, nor I that I was at your service. I desire it to
be distinctly understood by you, as it is sufficiently by
him, that I am not at the disposal of my uncle. I am of
age, and am my own mistress. My uncle is kind to me
in my presence, and never seeks to control my actions.
Should I make an unworthy alliance, the worst thing he
could do, or would have a desire to attempt, would be to
abandon my society. You now understand the relation in
which we stand. I do not, however, wish to break with
my uncle. He is generous, brave, and magnanimous; and
of course it would wound me past recovery if you, my
friend, should slay him in a duel. Thus you see that, by
acceding to his proposition, to obtain his friendship, you
would lose mine. Of that you may be assured. If you
resolve to meet him, I resolve never to see you again. You
must choose between him and me. But if you determine
to accede to my request, and depart without a collision with
him, you have my promise that, at a future day, should
it be your pleasure, you can see me again, unchanged
in every particular. “Sir:—I have the honor to acknowledge the receipt of
your note of this morning. In reply, I have to state that,
inasmuch as no definite proposal has been made by me to
your niece, and as my engagements will demand my unintermitting
presence at a point some two thousand miles
distant from this, for at least a year to come, I must decline
the meeting you demand, at least for the present.
Should fortune bring me again in the vicinity of your niece,
at some future day, and it should then be your pleasure to
renew the demand, that will be the proper time for me to
announce my final decision. “Luke,” said Blanche, “if you have seen proper to afflict
yourself without reason, it was cruel to afflict Blanche
also, who never did you any harm. And now, if you persist
in dying, you may have the consolation, if the fact
can console you, of knowing that Blanche will die also,
murdered by you. * * * * You declare your love, and announce
your purpose never to see me more. Would it
not have been generous to have withheld the declaration,
and left me in doubt? Luke, did you know that the passion
was mutual? You have spoken plainly, at last; and
I will do so too. Never, since we first parted, no, never for
a moment, have I entertained the shadow of a thought that
I could or would bestow my hand on any other than yourself—and
such is the case still. * * * * * Luke, I have
been addressed by several since we parted last, and all
have abandoned the pursuit on learning my purpose,
which I have frankly made known to them. My uncle
took me to the falls of Niagara, Saratoga Springs, and
divers other gay places last summer; but all in vain: he
found that it was impossible to wean me from my first
attachment. On my return, I pronounced my last positive
rejection of the suit of the one whom my uncle preferred.
Luke, we were standing on the balcony of a hotel in
23
Philadelphia, when he desired to know my decision. At
that moment I thought I beheld your pale features, and
that you cast upon me a look of reproach and sadness. A
monosyllable sufficed for my petitioner, and I did not even
have the curiosity to look after him, and observe how
deeply he was disappointed and piqued. I had eyes only
for the vision before me, if vision it was. I felt that Providence
had linked our destinies together by adamantine
chains, and I had no disposition to rupture them if they
had been formed of a weaker material. Luke, was it you?
Oh, if it was, how cruel not to come and speak to me!
* * * * * * Luke, when I learned through the newspapers
of your loss on that terrible steamer, my mind was made
up. It was my fixed determination to place myself and
my little fortune in your keeping, if you desired it, as soon
as we met. How could you suppose that the loss of your
money might involve the loss of my affection? No, Luke,
you have not yet learned fully the character of Blanche.
In misfortune she will cling the more closely to you, and
be all the bolder in her ministrations of solace and encouragement.
* * * * * Adhere Steadfastly to your Business. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 78 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | | Title: | Horse Shoe Robinson | | | | 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: | The belt of mountains which traverses the state of Virginia
diagonally, from north-east to south-west, it will be seen by an
inspection of the map, is composed of a series of parallel ranges,
presenting a conformation somewhat similar to that which may be
observed in miniature on the sea-beach, amongst the minute lines of
sand hillocks left by the retreating tide. This belt may be said to
commence with the Blue Ridge, or more accurately speaking, with
that inferior chain of highlands that runs parallel to this mountain
almost immediately along its eastern base. From this region westward
the highlands increase in elevation, the valleys become narrower,
steeper and cooler, and the landscape progressively assumes the
wilder features which belong to what is distinctly meant by “the
mountain country.” “`By ill luck I have fallen into the possession of the Whigs. They have
received intelligence of the capture of Major Butler, and, apprehending that
some mischief might befal him, have constrained me to inform you that my
life will be made answerable for any harsh treatment that he may receive
at the hands of our friends. They are resolute men, and will certainly
make me the victim of their retaliation. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 79 | Author: | Kennedy
John Pendleton
1795-1870 | Add | | | Title: | Quodlibet | | | | 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: | It was at the close of the year 1833—or rather, I should
say, at the opening of the following spring, that our Borough
of Quodlibet took that sudden leap to greatness, which has,
of late, caused it to be so much talked about. Our folks
are accustomed to set this down to the Removal of the Deposites.
Indeed, until that famous event, Quodlibet was,
as one might say in common parlance, a place not worth
talking about—it might hardly be remarked upon the maps.
But since that date, verily, like Jeshurun, it has waxed fat.
It has thus come to pass that “The Removal” is a great epoch
in our annals—our Hejirah—the A. U. C. of all Quodlibetarians. “Sir:—The Patriotic Copper-plate Bank of Quodlibet has
been selected by this department as the depository of the public
money collected in Quodlibet and its vicinity; and the Marshal
will hand you the form of a contract proposed to be executed,
with a copy of his instructions from this department. In selecting
your institution as one of the fiscal agents of the government,
I not only rely on its solidity and established character, as
affording a sufficient guarantee for the safety of the public money
entrusted to its keeping, but I confide also in its disposition to
adopt the most liberal course which circumstances will admit,
towards other moneyed institutions generally, and particularly
those in your vicinity. The deposites of the public money will
enable you to afford increased facilities to commerce, and to extend
your accommodations to individuals; and as the duties which
are payable to the government arise from the business and enterprise
of the merchants engaged in foreign trade, it is but reasonable
that they should be preferred in the additional accommodations
which the public deposites will enable your institution to
give, whenever it can be done without injustice to the claims of
other classes of the community. “This is to give notice, that we who have put our sign-manuals
to the foot thereof, being till now snorting Whigs,
having heard our Postmaster, Clem Straddle, Esq., say that
he knows General Harrison sold five white men as slaves
off his plantation, and is for Abolition, and whipped four
naked women on their bare backs, and is for imprisonment
for debt, and moreover is for making a King, and goes for
raising the expenses of the Government up to fifteen millions,
and is a coward and wears petticoats, and is kept in
a cage, and wants to reduce wages, and for that purpose is
a going to have a standing army of two hundred thousand
men, which our free and independent spirits wont bear, and
wants to give the public money, which comes from the sweat
of our brows, and public lands, to Sam. Swartwout and
Price, and a gang of British Whigs, which we consider
against the Constitution, and moreover we dont believe he
wont answer, and has got no principles excepting them
what he used to have, and is against the Independent Treasury
which was signed Fourth of July, whereby it is the
Declaration of Independence; and the aforesaid Clem Straddle,
Esq., which writeth this for us and in our names, being
against all office-holders which the British Whigs is a striving
after, and tells us to vote for Van Buren, we being an
affectionate father and five orphan children without any mother,
and never had any since infancy, make known that in
21
the next Presidential election in this Territory, if we had a
vote, and if not we shall vote in Missouri, we goes against
Tip. and Ty. and all that disgusting mummery of Log
Cabins, Hard Cider, Coonskins, Possums, and Gourds, in
regard of their lowering morals, and goes for Jackson, Hickory
Poles, Whole Hogs, and Van Buren, as witness our
hands and seals. Gentle reader, I have performed my covenant. Quod
meum fuit præstiti. What content these chronicles, and the
poor skill with which they are set forth, may have brought to
our respcctable Committee, I am in no position to decide;
since I know that an author is seldom honestly commended
to his face. That there is division of opinion on this matter
I am aware; for upon the reading at the last meeting on
Wednesday night, I could not fail to observe certain signs
of dissent, if not of displeasure, passing between Eliphalet
Fox and Zachary Younghusband; and that more than once.
But Mr. Flam, who has always shown himself a true friend
and patron to me, took up my cause with such spirit and
effect, being well supported by Mr. Doubleday and Mr.
Snuffers—that a unanimous vote of approbation was finally
passed by the Committee. Thus sheltered under the shield
of triple brass and tough bull hide of our Grand Central
Committee, I cheerfully submit my labors to the judgment
of the good folks of Quodlibet; promising, if they approve
and should again call me to the desk, to contribute what my
opportunity may allow to the better elucidation of their character,
both social and public, wherein it is manifest an eager
desire to be instructed hath lately grown up in this nation.
Non sum qui oblivionis artem, quam memoriæ mallem. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
| 80 | Author: | Eastman
Mary Henderson
1818-1890 | Add | | | Title: | Dahcotah, or, Life and legends of the Sioux around Fort Snelling | | | | 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: | Within a few miles of Fort Snelling lives Checkered
Cloud. Not that she has any settled habitation; she is far too
important a character for that. Indeed she is not often two
days in the same place. Her wanderings are not, however,
of any great extent, so that she can always be found when
wanted. But her wigwam is about seven miles from the fort,
and she is never much farther off. Her occupations change
with the day. She has been very busy of late, for Check
ered Cloud is one of the medicine women of the Dahcotahs;
and as the Indians have had a good deal of sickness
among them, you might follow her from teepee to teepee, as
she proceeds with the sacred rattle[2]
[2]Sacred rattle. This is generally a gourd, but is sometimes made of bark.
Small beads are put into it. The Sioux suppose that this rattle, in the hands
of one of their medicine men or women, possesses a certain virtue to charm
away sickness or evil spirits. They shake it over a sick person, using a circular
motion. It is never, however, put in requisition against the worst spirits
with which the Red Man has to contend.
in her hand, charming
away the animal that has entered the body of the Dahcotah
to steal his strength. | | | Similar Items: | Find |
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