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Updated: August 20, 2024
One man took the poor, bed-ridden, fretful old creature into his home, paid for medical attendance, and waited on her himself, when his housekeeper couldn't endure her tantrums and temper. Sarah Cooper died two years afterwards, and her latest breath was a benediction on Robert Monroe the best man God ever made. "Eight years ago Jack Blewitt wanted a place.
Cooper manifest as much enthusiasm with any other person when occasion was felicitous, the subject of interest, and the comedian in his happy vein. In 1832 William Dunlap's "History of the American Theatre" was "Dedicated to James Fenimore Cooper Esq., by his Friend, the Author." It was in this year of 1850 that the author's daughter, Susan Augusta, had her "Rural Hours" about ready to print.
This work for which the author was sent to jail, though a lunatic asylum would have been a far fitter place is only of interest here because it bears direct and positive evidence to the fact that at this time Cooper was the most widely read of American authors. But jealousy of his fame could be found among men of much higher pretensions than this wretched poetaster.
They both ran to the window and saw dashing down the avenue a picture out of Fenimore Cooper; a saddleless horse with a rider whose fingers merely touched the bridle, riding as on a journey of life and death. "My God, it's Lali! She's mad she's mad! She is striking that horse! It will bolt! It will kill her!" cried the general. Then he rushed for a horse to follow her. Mrs.
He took counsel with Cooper's friends as to a monument to the author, and among his papers was found an elaborate design for the work. Cooper loved to encourage rising talent in young artists. He gave them orders, and also his cheering sympathy.
Fenton the ragged and gigantic robber, who was so much changed by famine and misery that he did not know him the stranger his daughter Ginty Cooper, the fortune-teller Lord Cullamore the terrible pistol at his brain Dunroe and all those who were more or less concerned in or affected by his schemes, flitted through his disturbed fancy like the figures in a magic lantern, rendering his sleep feverish, disturbed, and by many degrees more painful than his waking reflections.
"Well, then, I suppose they are so." "I assure you, sir," rejoined Harry, "they are not; and as the lives of passengers as well as men depend upon the vessel being in a seaworthy condition, I do trust that you will have her examined by some one more competent to judge than Mr Cooper."
"I'll go over in the morning," said Evans, who, now that things had been adjusted, was secretly disappointed that Miss Cooper had not witnessed the meeting. "If you're not going ashore, we might have a hand o' cards as soon's we're made fast." The mate assenting, they went below, and were soon deep in the mysteries of three-hand cribbage.
Some of our living novelists have a limited list of characters; they have half a dozen types which we recognize as inevitably as we do the face and voice of an actor in the king, the lover, the priest, or the bandit: but Cooper is not a mere mannerist, perpetually copying from himself.
From the 'Change to Captain Cocke's, and there, by agreement, dined, and there was Charles Porter, Temple, Fern, Debasty, whose bad English and pleasant discourses was exceeding good entertainment, Matt. Wren, Major Cooper, and myself, mighty merry and pretty discourse. They talked for certain, that now the King do follow Mrs.
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