In the midst of unimaginable hardship, an enslaved teenager in colonial Boston penned verses that would echo through the centuries and earn her the distinction of being the first African American woman to publish a book of poetry. Her 1773 collection, Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral, astonished readers on both sides of the Atlantic and challenged the era’s deeply held prejudices about race and intellect.

Among her most striking works is “On Imagination,,” a soaring neoclassical ode that celebrates the boundless power of the human mind. In it, Wheatley personifies Imagination as an “imperial queen” capable of transcending winter’s frost, traveling among the stars, and transforming harsh reality into beauty and joy. Written while she was still enslaved, the poem stands as a profound testament to mental freedom and creative resilience—the idea that even when the body is chained, the spirit and intellect can soar.

Though composed some 250 years ago, Wheatley’s words still resonate powerfully today, reminding us of the enduring strength of imagination in the face of adversity. Below is the entirety of this masterpiece. Perhaps allow your imagination to run free.

On Imagination
by Phillis Wheatley (1773)

Thy various works, imperial queen, we see,
How bright their forms! how deck’d with pomp by thee!
Thy wond’rous acts in beauteous order stand,
And all attest how potent is thine hand.

From Helicon’s refulgent heights attend,
Ye sacred choir, and my attempts befriend:
To tell her glories with a faithful tongue,
Ye blooming graces, triumph in my song.

Now here, now there, the roving Fancy flies,
Till some lov’d object strikes her wand’ring eyes,
Whose silken fetters all the senses bind,
And soft captivity involves the mind.

Imagination! who can sing thy force?
Or who describe the swiftness of thy course?
Soaring through air to find the bright abode,
Th’ empyreal palace of the thund’ring God,
We on thy pinions can surpass the wind,
And leave the rolling universe behind:
From star to star the mental optics rove,
Measure the skies, and range the realms above.
There in one view we grasp the mighty whole,
Or with new worlds amaze th’ unbounded soul.

Though Winter frowns to Fancy’s raptur’d eyes
The fields may flourish, and gay scenes arise;
The frozen deeps may break their iron bands,
And bid their waters murmur o’er the sands.
Fair Flora may resume her fragrant reign,
And with her flow’ry riches deck the plain;
Sylvanus may diffuse his honours round,
And all the forest may with leaves be crown’d:
Show’rs may descend, and dews their gems disclose,
And nectar sparkle on the blooming rose.

Such is thy pow’r, nor are thine orders vain,
O thou the leader of the mental train:
In full perfection all thy works are wrought,
And thine the sceptre o’er the realms of thought.
Before thy throne the subject-passions bow,
Of subject-passions sov’reign ruler thou;
At thy command joy rushes on the heart,
And through the glowing veins the spirits dart.

Fancy might now her silken pinions try
To rise from earth, and sweep th’ expanse on high:
From Tithon’s bed now might Aurora rise,
Her cheeks all glowing with celestial dies,
While a pure stream of light o’erflows the skies.
The monarch of the day I might behold,
And all the mountains tipt with radiant gold,
But I reluctant leave the pleasing views,
Which Fancy dresses to delight the Muse;
Winter austere forbids me to aspire,
And northern tempests damp the rising fire;
They chill the tides of Fancy’s flowing sea,
Cease then, my song, cease the unequal lay.

Many lives were lost in the French & Indian War, the Revolutionary War, and the 19th century events of the War of 1812 and Mexican War, but until the invention of photography, there was a certain amount of callousness to what war was really about.

The Civil War changed all that, and perhaps one person, Matthew Brady, did more to make that change than anyone.

The Civil War was the first war to be photographed. In 1862, famed photographer Mathew Brady exhibited a series of pictures taken by protégés Alexander Gardner and James Gibson immediately after the Battle of Antietam. Gardner and Gibson, two of the many photographers Brady hired to document the war, produced at least 95 images at Antietam. Their images were the first to show dead bodies on the field.

The October 20, 1862 issue of the “New York Times” contains one of the more moving articles on the horrors of war, brought home to the residents of New York through an exhibition of “Pictures of the Dead at Antietam” in Matthew Brady’s Manhattan Gallery.
The article is headed: “‘Brady’s Photographs” and it reports on the exhibition by comparing the brutality & reality of war, to the callousness of New York’s residents who read the daily papers but did not relate to the horrors they reported.

The article is extremely well-written, taking most of a column. The full text can be seen in the attached photos, however a few bits are worthy of noting here: “The living that throng Broadway care little perhaps for the dead at Antietam, but…they would jostle less carelessly down the great thoroughfare, saunter less at their ease, were a few dripping bodies, fresh from the field, laid along the payment…We see the list in the morning papers…but dismiss its recollection with the coffee. There is a confused mass of names, but they are all strangers…We recognize the battle-field as a reality, but it stands as a remote one…” with more.

Then: “Mr. Brady has done something to bring home to us the terrible reality and earnestness of war. If he has not brought bodies and laid them in our dooryards and along the streets, he has done something very like it. At the door of his gallery hangs a little placard, ‘The Dead of Antietam’…There is one side of the picture that the sun did not catch…It is the background of widows and orphans, torn from the bosom of their natural protectors by the red remorseless hand of Battle, and thrown upon the fatherhood of God. Homes have been made desolate & the light of life in thousands of hearts has been quenched forever. All of this desolation imagination must paint–broken hearts cannot be photographed…” and much more.
In 50 years of selling early newspapers, this issue most powerfully brings home the grief, sorrows, tragedies, realities, and unanswered questions that war inflicts upon a nation. What a difference a photograph can make.

Spinning the Yarn—written by author Paul M. Bohannon—offers a compelling and original contribution to early baseball history, grounded firmly in the rich evidentiary value of historic newspapers. Drawing extensively from period sources such as Porter’s Spirit of the Times and the Sunday Mercury, the book highlights how contemporary reporting captured not just the scores of early games, but the culture, personalities, and pivotal moments that shaped the sport.

One of the book’s most intriguing revelations centers on an 1855 dinner hosted by Samuel Godwin, president of Brooklyn’s Putnam Base Ball Club. This gathering—held after a decisive victory—brought together players, dignitaries, and crucially, newspaper representatives. As documented in these early publications, the evening marked a turning point: an intentional and strategic outreach to the press that helped ignite sustained baseball coverage. The following year’s reports, including detailed accounts of the Putnam Club’s contests, reveal the emergence of a narrative style that would evolve into modern sports writing.

We extend our thanks (and best wishes for success) to Paul for demonstrating so powerfully how (rare &) early newspapers serve as invaluable primary sources for uncovering and preserving… and in this instance, instrumental on forming the story of America’s past.

[newspapers with baseball content]

After two decades, we (Timothy Hughes Rare & Early Newspapers), have a brand-new website!

The enhancements are best enjoyed first-hand.

Start your discovery at:

RareNewspapers.com

When it comes to “man on the street” interviews, the lack of knowledgeable responses often received never fails to confound. We enjoy watching these—which is a bit troubling in itself—but if an interviewer asked, “Who invented the light bulb?”, I’d bet 75% would answer correctly, especially with a few “Thom…  Thomas… Thomas Ed…” clues.

However, and to be fair, few of us (myself included) could name the pioneers who paved the way. Enter Moses G. Farmer. Thanks to a January 11, 1879, issue of Scientific American titled “THE FIRST ELECTRIC LAMPS,” I discovered this fascinating inventor who lit his Salem, MA, home in 1859—two decades before Edison’s breakthrough.

Using platinum filaments and batteries he had mounted for the purpose in his cellar, Farmer proved electricity could replace gas. Though the cost of platinum and the lack of a vacuum prevented commercial success, his “parlor lights” were the first to move electric light from the lab into a domestic reality – often enlightening dinner guests with his invention.

Farmer provided the “blueprint of failures” Edison needed. He proved electricity could light a home; Edison simply figured out how to make it last longer than a dinner party.

A modern sketch comparing Farmer’s and Edison’s work is shown below.

I love this collectible – and how it fuels the engine of life-long learning.

• Hope and Defiance – French Sympathy (E39)

• The New-England Chronicle – A Rare Voice (E40)

• Powerful Resolves – Battlefield Successes (E41)

• Addressing Military Overreach – Precedent for Restraint (E42)

• Common Sense – Condemnation of Monarchy (E43)

We hope you are enjoying this year-long trek to the 250th anniversary of The United States through the eyes of those who were fully engaged, first hand. As mentioned previously, all accounts are rooted in what they read in the newspapers of the day.

“History is never more fascinating than when read from the day it was first reported.” (Timothy Hughes, 1975)

The “Boston Daily Journal” of April 14, 1865 shares the date of the Lincoln assassination, he attending a performance of “Our American Cousin” at Ford’s Theatre in Washington, D.C. Page 3 of this newspaper has an advertisement for the Boston Theatre, noting: “This (Friday) Evening Benefit and Positively Last Night of EDWIN BOOTH who will appear as Sir Edward Mortimer…To-Morrow (Saturday Afternoon, Farewell Appearance of EDWIN BOOTH, Who will sustain his Great Character of Hamlet…”.
So what did we find? The very evening that famed actor Edwin Booth was performing in a Boston theater, his younger brother was assassinating the President in a theater less than 400 miles away.

This advertisement, logically, would only be found in a Boston newspaper.

This is similar to another of our blog posts, concerning Lincoln attending a Washington, D.C. stage performance of John Wilkes Booth in 1863, the irony being Lincoln’s assumed applause at the conclusion of the performance for the person who would assassinate him less than 2 years later.

Such tidbits of history are fascinating finds, and could only be discovered in newspapers of the day. So look carefully at the issues you purchase. Will you discover a historical gem that the world knew nothing about?