Alida; or, Miscellaneous Sketches of Incidents During the Late American War.: Founded on Fact — John Shaqi
Alida; or, Miscellaneous Sketches of Incidents During the Late American War.: Founded on FactComfield, Amelia Stratton
History
Alida; or, Miscellaneous Sketches of Incidents During the Late American War.: Founded on Fact
Comfield, Amelia Stratton
United States -- History -- Revolution, 1775-1783 -- Juvenile fiction
She was honourably descended from English parents, who had resided in
New-York since the revolution. Her father had been actively engaged in
business there, which had been ultimately crowned with the successful
gifts of fortune.
Her education had been governed by the strictness of the English
discipline. A foundation laid in early piety continued to influence her
mind with unaffected ardour, blended with a generous benevolence, the
genuine effects of the inexhaustible goodness of her heart. She was one
who manifested to the world that a "doer of good" is far preferable to
any other character, and in a superlative degree above those who
maintain high principles in theory, without ever once reducing them to
practice.
This lady had an only sister, who married a native of Ireland, and after
the course of a few years went to reside there, where she had recently
died. The children returned to this country, having lost their father
long before, and several of her nephews now resided in the city. Having
been always accustomed to reside in town herself, where her many
excellent qualities had endeared her to numerous friends and
acquaintances, who would now feel themselves lost without her society,
therefore the parents of Alida formed the conclusion to pass their
winters in the city, and return to the country in the summer season.
In the mean time, Alida's father thought the event fortunate, and was
pleased at this time to remove his daughter from the place where the
late scenes appeared so trying and afflictive, with the hope that in
mingling her with the gay world she would in a while forget Theodore,
while he in his turn would be induced to leave the neighbourhood.
It was now at that season when weary summer had lapsed into the fallow
arms of autumn, and was approaching to the chilly breezes of winter. The
morning was clear, and the light gales bore invigorating coolness on
their wings as they tremulously agitated the foliage of the western
forest, or fluttered among the branches of the trees that surrounded the
mansion. The green splendours of the lawn had faded into a yellow
lustre; the flowery verdure of the fields was changed to a russet hue.
A robin chirped in a favourite tree in the yard; a wren chattered
beneath, while some few solitary birds still continued to warble their
notes among the leaves of the aspen.
The surrounding groves partially rung with melody; while deep in the
adjacent wilderness the woodpecker, hammering on some dry and blasted
trees, filled the woods with reverberant echoes.
The face of the Sound was ruffled by the lingering breezes, as they idly
wandered over its surface. Long Island was thinly enveloped in smoky
vapour; scattered along its shores lay the numerous small craft, with
larger ships, of the hostile fleet. A few skiffs were passing and
re-passing the Sound. Several American war-sloops lay on a point which
jutted out from the mainland into the river.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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