By Susan Cummins Miller
During this ebook are bits and items of desires, lives, stories, and vistas, like squares minimize from previous fabric and assembled right into a loopy cover of writing kinds and varieties. The patchwork layout mirrors either the complexity of the chroniclers and the stark strains and angles of the yankee frontier. —Susan Cummins Miller, from the creation during this anthology of thirty-four writers who released throughout the cost years of the yank frontier, Miller assembles nonfiction, fiction, poetry, and coffee writings from girls of Anglo, chinese language, Hispanic, and local American ethnicity. Variously addressing such issues as isolation, drudgery, friendship, mourning, or even mysticism, those writers provide up a unique frontier, person who makes a speciality of women’s stories up to men’s. briefly biographical and ancient introductions to every author, Miller stocks insights and context as enticing because the choices themselves.
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Extra resources for A Sweet, Separate Intimacy: Women Writers of the American Frontier, 1800-1922
But I have since been convinced, that sleeping in an exhausted atmosphere, of which those who slept on the bedsteads felt the effect more sensibly than those who lay on the floor, had no small agency in producing this depression of spirits, so unusual with me. ' I have heard that eels get accustomed to being skinned, but I doubt the fact. That morning was the first and the last time I ever attempted to carry through the ordinary nursery routine, in a log hut, without a servant, and with a skillet for a wash basin.
You must mount your remaining horse, if you have one, and ride on till you find a farmer and one, two, or three pairs of oxen—and all this accomplished, you may generally hope for a release in time. I never knew children who did not, when there was no water to be had. The basket which had contained, when we left the city, a store of cakes and oranges, which the children thought inexhaustible, held now nothing but the napkins, which had enveloped those departed joys, and those napkins, suspended cornerwise, and soaken long and often in the crystal water, served for business and pleasure, till papa came back.
He tried to keep cool under it all; but the glittering blade made tremulous motions in his hands. On, on went the boat, circling round the bend, while he whittled away at his hoop, unwilling, like many other old men, to own, even to himself, that nature was struggling for utterance in his soul; unwilling to let her speak aloud in the language of joy and triumph. Green[e], who was an old friend, passed the spot where the settler's cabin had stood at first; where the tall peartree pointed to the sky, and the great elm spread its mighty arms over an acre of soil,— where he had often moored his keelboat, and built his campfire, in years long gone,—and ordered another salute in memory of those days.