The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains by Owen Wister (beach read book txt) 📗
- Author: Owen Wister
Book online «The Virginian: A Horseman of the Plains by Owen Wister (beach read book txt) 📗». Author Owen Wister
CONTENTS
To THEODORE ROOSEVELT
TO THE READER
THE VIRGINIAN
I. ENTER THE MAN
II. “WHEN YOU CALL ME THAT, SMILE!”
III. STEVE TREATS
IV. DEEP INTO CATTLE LAND
V. ENTER THE WOMAN
VI. EM'LY
VII. THROUGH TWO SNOWS
VIII. THE SINCERE SPINSTER
IX. THE SPINSTER MEETS THE UNKNOWN
X. WHERE FANCY WAS BRED
XI. “YOU RE GOING TO LOVE ME BEFORE WE GET THROUGH”
XII. QUALITY AND EQUALITY
XIII. THE GAME AND THE NATION—ACT FIRST
XIV. BETWEEN THE ACTS
XV. THE GAME AND THE NATION—ACT SECOND
XVI. THE GAME AND THE NATION—LAST ACT
XVII. SCIPIO MORALIZES
XVIII. “WOULD YOU BE A PARSON?”
XIX. DR. MACBRIDE BEGS PARDON
XX. THE JUDGE IGNORES PARTICULARS
XXI. IN A STATE OF SIN
XXII. “WHAT IS A RUSTLER?”
XXIII. VARIOUS POINTS
XXIV. A LETTER WITH A MORAL
XXV. PROGRESS OF THE LOST DOG
XXVI. BALAAM AND PEDRO
XXVII. GRANDMOTHER STARK
XXVIII. NO DREAM TO WAKE FROM
XXIX. WORD TO BENNINGTON
XXX. A STABLE ON THE FLAT
XXXI. THE COTTONWOODS
XXXII. SUPERSTITION TRAIL
XXXIII. THE SPINSTER LOSES SOME SLEEP
XXXIV. TO FIT HER FINGER
XXXV. WITH MALICE AFORETHOUGHT
XXXVI. AT DUNBARTON
To THEODORE ROOSEVELTSome of these pages you have seen, some you have praised, one stands new-written because you blamed it; and all, my dear critic, beg leave to remind you of their author's changeless admiration.
TO THE READER
Certain of the newspapers, when this book was first announced, made a mistake most natural upon seeing the sub-title as it then stood, A TALE OF SUNDRY ADVENTURES. “This sounds like a historical novel,” said one of them, meaning (I take it) a colonial romance. As it now stands, the title will scarce lead to such interpretation; yet none the less is this book historical—quite as much so as any colonial romance. Indeed, when you look at the root of the matter, it is a colonial romance. For Wyoming between 1874 and 1890 was a colony as wild as was Virginia one hundred years earlier. As wild, with a scantier population, and the same primitive joys and dangers. There were, to be sure, not so many Chippendale settees.
We know quite well the common understanding of the term “historical novel.” HUGH WYNNE exactly fits it. But SILAS LAPHAM is a novel as perfectly historical as is Hugh Wynne, for it pictures an era and personifies a type. It matters not that in the one we find George Washington and in the other none save imaginary figures; else THE SCARLET LETTER were not historical. Nor does it matter that Dr. Mitchell did not live in the time of which he wrote, while Mr. Howells saw many Silas Laphams with his own eyes; else UNCLE TOM'S CABIN were not historical. Any narrative which presents faithfully a day and a generation is of necessity historical; and this one presents Wyoming between 1874 and 1890. Had you left New York or San Francisco at ten o'clock this morning, by noon the day after to-morrow you could step out at Cheyenne. There you would stand at the heart of the world that is the subject of my picture, yet you would look around you in vain for the reality. It is a vanished world. No journeys, save those which memory can take, will bring you to it now. The mountains are there, far and shining, and the sunlight, and the infinite earth, and the air that seems forever the true fountain of youth, but where is
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