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Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 2 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 18 0 Browse Search
Bliss Perry, The American spirit in lierature: a chronicle of great interpreters 14 0 Browse Search
Edward L. Pierce, Memoir and letters of Charles Sumner: volume 3 12 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Book and heart: essays on literature and life 10 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Atlantic Essays 10 0 Browse Search
Cambridge History of American Literature: volume 3 (ed. Trent, William Peterfield, 1862-1939., Erskine, John, 1879-1951., Sherman, Stuart Pratt, 1881-1926., Van Doren, Carl, 1885-1950.) 10 0 Browse Search
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Carlyle's laugh and other surprises 8 0 Browse Search
The Daily Dispatch: November 5, 1860., [Electronic resource] 8 4 Browse Search
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches 8 0 Browse Search
George Bancroft, History of the United States from the Discovery of the American Continent, Vol. 4, 15th edition. 6 0 Browse Search
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Eliza Frances Andrews, The war-time journal of a Georgia girl, 1864-1865, chapter 7 (search)
of his country. I don't know how father and Garnett managed it, but the fellow finally went off without the horses, followed by a parting growl from Toby. After this interruption we resumed our conversation, and became so much interested that father, Garnett, Capt. Hudson, and I sat up till twelve o'clock, much to the disgust of Mett and Mary Day, who were trying to sleep, in rooms overlooking the piazza. It was not politics, this time, either, but the relative merits of Dickens and Thackeray, and I think it would be much better if we would stick to peaceful encounters of this sort instead of the furious political battles we have, which always end in fireworks, especially when Henry and I cross swords with father-two hot-heads against one. June 5, Monday Went to call on Mrs. Elzey with some of our gentlemen, and talk over plans for a moonlight picnic on Thursday or Friday night; then to see Mrs. Foreman, and from there to the Alexanders. On my return home, found Porter
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, December, 1863. (search)
he gallant Lieutenant's application had been successful, and that she proposed to accompany him to the ball on horseback. As we galloped by the house, a little flaxen-haired, chubby boy, who had climbed the fence, extended his head over the top rail and jabbered at us at the top of his voice; but the handsome young lady (lid not favor us with even a glance. November, 31 It is late. Hours ago the bugles notified the boys that it was time to retire to their dens. I have been reading Thackeray's Lovell, the Widower, and as I sat alone in the silence of the middle night, the scenes depicted grew distinct and lifelike; the characters encompassed me about real living men and women; the drawing-rooms, dininghalls, parlors, opened out before me; the streets, walks, drives, were all visible, and I became a spectator instead of a reader. Suddenly a low, unearthly wail broke the stillness, and my hair stiffened somewhat at the roots, as the fancy struck me that I heard the voice of the
Heros von Borcke, Memoirs of the Confederate War for Independence, Chapter 8: (search)
luxuries to us, who often for days together had gone without food, and at best could secure only a meagre repast. The plantation of The Bower had been long in the possession of the family of Dandridge, one member of which, more than a century ago, was the pretty widow Martha Custis, nee Dandridge, afterwards the wife of George Washington, whose beauty and amiability have been preserved in history and fiction, who was delineated by the pencil of Stuart in one generation, and the pen of Thackeray in another. Nowhere, perhaps, in the wide limits of the State, could one have formed a better idea of the refined manners and profuse hospitable life of dear old Virginia, and before the breaking-out of the war The Bower had rarely been without its guests. The proprietor at the time I knew the place was a kind-hearted intelligent gentleman of fifty or thereabouts, whose charming wife retained, in a remarkable degree for America, the personal attractiveness of her youthful bloom. The re
John Esten Cooke, Wearing of the Gray: Being Personal Portraits, Scenes, and Adventures of War., Facetiae of the camp: souvenirs of a C. S. Officer. (search)
of the hospitable mansion in which I tarried; the family declared the incident exactly true; and the hero of the affair, the black baby, namely, is still living. Lastly, I know the woman, she is very worthless, but all are. Viii. There was down in Stafford, during the war, a youthful negro of six or eight years of age, who excited the admiration of everybody by his passionate devotion to the Confederacy, and the big words which he used. In fact, his vocabulary was made up of what Mr. Thackeray calls the longest and handsomest words in the dictionary. Still he could be terse, pointed, epigrammatic, and hard-cutting in speech. Of these statements two illustrations are given. 1. When an artillery fight took place near the mansion which had the honour of sheltering him, the young African was observed to pause, assume an attitude of extreme attention, remove his hat, scratch his head, and listen. Then turning to his master, he said with dignity, Hear that artillery, sir. Thos
Thomas C. DeLeon, Four years in Rebel capitals: an inside view of life in the southern confederacy, from birth to death., Chapter 24: echo of Seven days, North and South. (search)
o longer a temperate struggle for authority, it became one for conquest and annihilation. He boldly threw off the mask that had hitherto concealed its uglier features, and commenced a systematic course of pillage and petty plundering-backed by a series of curiously bombastic and windy orders. Calmly to read these wonderful effusions-dated from Headquarters in the saddle --by the light of his real deeds, one could only conceive that General Pope coveted that niche in history filled by Thackeray's O'Grady Gahagan; and that much of his reading had been confined to the pleasant rambles of Gulliver and the doughty deeds of Trenck and Munchausen. To sober second thought, the sole reason for his advancement might seem his wonderful power as a braggart. He blustered and bragged until the North was bullied into admiration; and his sounding boasts that he had only seen the backs of his enemies, and that he had gone to look for the rebel, Jackson --were really taken to mean what they
Thomas Wentworth Higginson, Army Life in a Black Regiment, Chapter 5: out on picket. (search)
amin? How you find yourself dis mornin‘, Tittawisa (Sister Louisa)? Such salutations rang out to everybody, known or unknown. In return, venerable, kerchiefed matrons courtesied laboriously to every one, with an unfailing Bress de Lord, budder. Grave little boys, blacker than ink, shook hands with our laughing and utterly unmanageable drummers, who greeted them with this sure word of prophecy, Dem's de drummers for de nex‘ war Pretty mulatto girls ogled and coquetted, and made eyes, as Thackeray would say, at half the young fellows in the battalion. Meantime the singing was brisk along the whole column, and when I sometimes reined up to see them pass, the chant of each company, entering my ear, drove out from the other ear the strain of the preceding. Such an odd mixture of things, military and missionary, as the successive waves of song drifted by! First, John Brown, of course; then, What make old Satan for follow me so? then, Marching along ; then, Hold your light on Canaan
Louisa May Alcott, Hospital Sketches: An Army Nurse's True Account of her Experience during the Civil War., Chapter 3: a day. (search)
eighth commandment was reduced to a very fragmentary condition, both by the blacks and whites, who ornamented our hospital with their presence. Pocket books, purses, miniatures, and watches, were sealed u), labelled, and handed over to the matron, till such times as the owners thereof were ready to depart homeward or campward again. The letters dictated to me, and revised by me, that afternoon, would have made an excellent chapter for some future history of the war; for, like that which Thackeray's Ensign Spooney wrote his mother just before Waterloo, they were full of affection, pluck, and bad spelling ; nearly all giving lively accounts of the battle, and ending with a somewhat sudden plunge from patriotism to provender, desiring Marm, Mary Ann, or ( Aunt Peters, to send along some pies, pickles, sweet stuff, and apples, to yourn in haste, Joe, Sam, or Ned, as the case might be. My little Sergeant insisted on trying to scribble something with his left hand, and patiently acco
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing), Libraries, free public (search)
sity do get prompt response, and the new novels are freely bought. How freely I have recently sought to ascertain. I asked of some seventy libraries their yearly expenditure for current fiction in proportion to their total expenditure for books. The returns show an average of from 10 to 15 per cent. In one case the amount reached 50 per cent., in others it fell as low as 2 per cent. The ratio for fiction in general is much higher on the average; but fiction in general includes Scott and Thackeray and other standards, an ample supply of which would not usually be questioned. At Providence and at Worcester, two of the most active and popular of public libraries, the purchases of fiction, current and standard, formed in a single year but 7 and 11 per cent., respectively, of the entire expenditure for books. At Boston there were selected but 178 titles of current fiction (out of nearly 600 read and considered). But some dozen copies were bought of each title, so that the entire pur
Harper's Encyclopedia of United States History (ed. Benson Lossing), Westminster Abbey. (search)
in the history of America that the founders of the greatest religious movement of the last century preached also in the New World, and that Whitefield, who succeeded John at Savannah, made many voyages to Georgia, and now lies in his peaceful grave at Newburyport. A few steps farther will take you into the south transept, and there, in Poets' Corner, among the many busts, tombs, and statues of great authors, there are some in which Americans may claim an immediate interest. Dickens and Thackeray, whose memorials are not far from the statue of Addison, were known to thousands in the United States by their readings and lectures. The bust of Coleridge—who has hitherto been uncommemorated in the abbey, and for some memorial of whose greatness Queen Emma of Hawaii asked in vain when she visited Westminster—is the work of an American artist and the gift of an American citizen; and the American poet and minister, Mr. J. R. Lowell, pronounced the oration when the bust was unveiled. Here
Frank Preston Stearns, Cambridge Sketches, C. P. Cranch. (search)
accomplishments, made him a very brilliant man in society, and he counted among his friends the finest literati in Rome, London, and the United States. He knew Thackeray as he knew Curtis and Lowell, and was once dining with him in a London chop-house, when Thackeray said: Have you read the last number of The Newcombs?-if not, I Thackeray said: Have you read the last number of The Newcombs?-if not, I will read it to you. Accordingly he gave the waiter a shilling to obtain the document, and read it aloud to Cranch and a friend who was with him. Both mentioned in Hawthorne's Notebook. Cranch could never understand this, for it was the last thing he would have done himself without an invitation; but he enjoyed the reading, an and Kobboltozo, ought not to be overlooked, for the illustrations in them are the only remains we have of his rare pencil drawings, as good, if not better, than Thackeray's drawings. It is likely that the parents read these stories with more pleasure than their children; for they not only contain a deal of fine wit, but there i
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