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Other editions of book My Young Master

  • My Young Master

    OPIE READ

    (, Nov. 19, 2019)
    Opie Percival Read (1852-1939) was an American journalist and humorist born in Nashville, Tennessee who published around 60 books. He edited five separate newspapers, all in the Southern states, and in 1882 founded his own humor magazine, the Arkansas Traveler, which he carried on after leaving newspaper journalism in 1887. In that year he relocated to Chicago where he spent the remainder of his life and during his first 20 years there he published 54 separate books, of which 31 were novels, 18 were full-length compilations of short fiction such as that published in the Arkansas Traveler, and five were works of non-fiction. After 1908 he appears to have gone into semi-retirement, publishing only six further books over the last 30 years of his life. He is known for his command of Southern dialect, although his literary standing was affected by the fact that many of his works were published as dime novels, and later critics have dismissed him as a presenter of lower-class white Southern stereotypes for middle-class Northerners. This novel is reprinted from the edition of 1896 and includes two full-page illustrations and a facsimile of the original cover
  • My young master: a novel...

    Read Opie Percival 1852-1939

    (HardPress Publishing, Dec. 13, 2013)
    Unlike some other reproductions of classic texts (1) We have not used OCR(Optical Character Recognition), as this leads to bad quality books with introduced typos. (2) In books where there are images such as portraits, maps, sketches etc We have endeavoured to keep the quality of these images, so they represent accurately the original artefact. Although occasionally there may be certain imperfections with these old texts, we feel they deserve to be made available for future generations to enjoy.
  • My Young Master

    Opie Read

    (, Dec. 28, 2019)
    This scarce antiquarian book is a facsimile reprint of the original. Due to its age, it may contain imperfections such as marks, notations, marginalia and flawed pages. 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 the original work.
  • My Young Master

    Opie Percival Read

    (, July 1, 2019)
    This is the story of a master, told by his slave. As I sit now, after the flight of so many years, and gaze at the pictures in the fire—the hills and the valleys of my boyhood, so bright, so glowing—I am oppressed with the fear that my rude hand can but ill execute the work that I have undertaken. And yet, I feel the force that truth alone can lend, for although my transcript may be crude, I know that in the years now far away but which are coming toward us, my history will be read by the thoughtful man who seeks to portray the strange social conditions that once existed in our country.I was born in the State of Kentucky, on the blue-grass farm owned by Guilford Gradley. Many changes may have taken place, but in my day the northern boundary line of the farm and the southern corporate limit of the town of Litchford here came together; and I think that one of my earliest recollections is of a Sunday morning, when my young master and I got on the ground and parted the long grass to search for the line. I know it must have been on a Sunday, for the church bells were ringing, and Old Master and Old Miss (as we always called his wife) passed us on their way to town. Old Master was one of the most prominent men in the State (had been a general in the militia), and this influence was felt even by the humblest negro on the place, for to belong to a great man was of itself a social prominence not enjoyed by the bondman of the ordinary individual. Why, I remember seeing a little negro boy weep bitterly because a playmate had taunted him with the humiliating fact that his master lived in a log house. Ah, those old days, by turns a sad and a happy freak in the history of man!Old Master had three children, Miss Lou, who had married a doctor; Miss May, about twelve years old, when my story begins; and Mars. Bob, about my age. The doctor that married Miss Lou was a neat man, all the time picking at himself and cleaning his fingernails, it seemed to me, and I had thought that he must be a great man, being a doctor and wearing so white a shirt, until one day I heard Old Master tell Old Miss that he wasn't worth the powder and lead to kill him. And after that I noticed that he didn't amount to much, and I firmly believed that Toney, the yellow blacksmith on our farm, could throw him down. Miss Lou was a handsome young woman, with beautiful eyes; and even now her voice sometimes comes to me at twilight, singing, 'I have no mother now.' The song always made me cry, for I had no mother. Old Balch, the shoemaker, used to tell me about my mother. He said that he had often seen her standing in the door of the cabin, with me in her arms, singing that song; and he said that she was a beautiful creature, with hair almost straight. And I recall that the first time he told me this, I slipped away, into old Mammy Liza's cabin, where I climbed upon a chair to look at myself in an old broken glass, to see how white I was. And it occurs to me that this must have been the day when a preacher, evidently from the North, made Old Miss boiling mad by patting me on the head and saying, "What a handsome little fellow." Mars. Bob was with me on the veranda at the time and it was a great scandal that the preacher should not have given him his first and most flattering attention. But he did not, and his stay in our house was short.
  • My Young Master: A Novel

    Opie Read

    (Forgotten Books, Jan. 19, 2018)
    Excerpt from My Young Master: A NovelL136 after shat I noticed that he didn't amount to much, and I firmly believed that Toney, the yellow blacksmith on our farm, could throw him down. Miss Lou was a handsome young woman, with beautiful eyes; and even now her voice sometimes comes to me at twilight, singing, 'i have no mother now.' The song always made me cry, for I had no mother. Old Balch, the shoemaker, used to tell me about my mother. He said that he had often seen her standing in the door of the cabin, with me in her arms, singing that song; and he said that she was a beautiful crea ture, with hair almost straight. And I recall that the first time he told me this, I slipped away, into old Mammy Liza's cabin, where I climbed upon a chair to look at myself in an old broken glass, to see how white I was. And it occurs to me that this must have been the day when a preacher, evidently from the North, made Old Miss boiling mad by patting me on the head and saying, What a handsome little fellow. Mars. Bob was with me on the veranda at the time and it was a great scandal that the preacher should not have given him his first and most flattering attention. But he did not, and his stay in our house was short.About the PublisherForgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.comThis book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully; any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.
  • My Young Master: A Novel

    Opie Percival Read

    (Prabhat Prakashan, Sept. 19, 2019)
    This is the story of a master; told by his slave. As I sit now; after the flight of so many years; and gaze at the pictures in the fire—the hills and the valleys of my boyhood; so bright; so glowing—I am oppressed with the fear that my rude hand can but ill execute the work that I have undertaken. And yet; I feel the force that truth alone can lend; for although my transcript may be crude; I know that in the years now far away but which are coming toward us; my history will be read by the thoughtful man who seeks to portray the strange social conditions that once existed in our country.