Bertie Or Life In The Old Field: A Humorous Novel (1851) is a work of fiction written by Seaworthy Gregory. The novel is set in the Old Field, a rural area in the United States, and follows the adventures of Bertie, a young boy who is full of mischief and curiosity. The novel is written in a humorous style and explores the daily life and struggles of the people living in the Old Field.Bertie is a mischievous boy who loves to play pranks and cause trouble for the adults around him. He spends his days exploring the Old Field, getting into trouble, and making new friends. The novel follows Bertie's adventures as he navigates the challenges of growing up in a rural community.The novel is filled with colorful characters, including Bertie's family and friends, as well as the various people he encounters in the Old Field. The author uses humor to explore the quirks and idiosyncrasies of these characters, as well as the challenges they face in their daily lives.Overall, Bertie Or Life In The Old Field: A Humorous Novel (1851) is a charming and entertaining work of fiction that offers a unique glimpse into life in a rural community in the mid-19th century. The novel is sure to delight readers with its humor, colorful characters, and engaging storyline.With A Letter To The Author From Washington Irving.This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the old original and may contain some imperfections such as library marks and notations. Because we believe this work is culturally important, we have made it available as part of our commitment for protecting, preserving, and promoting the world's literature in affordable, high quality, modern editions, that are true to their original work.
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WE were not the only sufferers by the gale. We were fortunate for that matter, in comparison with others, that came straggling in like a covey of partridges, scattered by a sportsman and his well-trained pointer. We had escaped with so small an injury as the springing of the head of our foremast, while one vessel, that anchored near us, had been dismasted. They reminded me, as they flocked to the anchorage, of the frightened landbirds, which one sees flying to a ship's rigging, when blown off shore by a westerly gale. They seemed eager to be once more at rest; and the busy, useful, homely, Lilliputian canal-craft nestled to the wharves as if they did not feel safe, even there, from the fury of the still raging storm. One of these last lay near us. She was a schooner of--possibly forty-five tons. She was laden scuppers-to, with fish; and the muddy swells gave now and then, as they rose and fell, a glimpse of her name, achieved in no very clerkly characters on the much-battered and time-embrowned stern; reminding one of the mysterious hieroglyphics in the wasteful blazonry of the tea companies' importations. Most persons, however, would have decided that the characters were English--as, indeed, they were; to which assertion I hold myself ready to "qualify." She rode uneasily on the tossing waves, which were most literally casting up mire and dirt; and kept up a fussy, fidgety clatter of ropes, and creaking of booms, and rattle of blocks, and slamming of cabin-doors, as if she longed to hug the dilapidated, rat-haunted old wharf, and thus to feel that she was safe.
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