Home as Found, James Fenimore Cooper [bookreader txt] 📗
- Author: James Fenimore Cooper
Book online «Home as Found, James Fenimore Cooper [bookreader txt] 📗». Author James Fenimore Cooper
wish to find any thing in America where you left it! The whole
country is in such a constant state of mutation, that I can only
liken it to that game of children, in which as one quits his corner,
another runs into it, and he that finds no corner to get into, is the
laughing-stock of the others. Fancy that dwelling the residence of
one man from childhood to old age; let him then quit it for a year or
two, and on his return he would find another in possession, who would
treat him as an impertinent intruder, because he had been absent two
years. An American 'always,' in the way of usages, extends no further
back than eighteen months. In short, every thing is condensed into
the present moment; and services, character, for evil as well as good
unhappily, and all other things, cease to have weight, except as they
influence the interests of the day."
"This is the colouring of a professed cynic," observed Mr. Effingham,
smiling.
"But the law, Mr. John Effingham," eagerly inquired the
baronet--"surely the law would not permit a stranger to intrude in
this manner on the rights of an owner."
"The law-_books_ would do him that friendly office, perhaps, but what
is a precept in the face of practices so ruthless. '_Les absents out
toujours tort_,' is a maxim of peculiar application in America."
"Property is as secure in this country as in any other, Sir George;
and you will make allowances for the humours of the present
annotator."
"Well, well, Ned; I hope you will find every thing _couleur de rose_,
as you appear to expect. You will get quiet possession of your house,
it is true, for I have put a Cerberus in it, that is quite equal to
his task, difficult as it may be, and who has quite as much relish
for a bill of costs, as any squatter can have for a trespass; but
without some such guardian of your rights, I would not answer for it,
that you would not be compelled to sleep in the highway."
"I trust Sir George Templemore knows how to make allowances for Mr.
John Effingham's pictures," cried Grace, unable to refrain from
expressing her discontent any longer.
A laugh succeeded, and the beauties of the river again attracted
their attention. As the boat continued to ascend, Mr. Effingham
triumphantly affirmed that the appearance of things more than
equalled his expectations, while both Eve and the baronet declared
that a succession of lovelier landscapes could hardly be presented to
the eye.
"Whited sepulchres!" muttered John Effingham--"all outside. Wait
until you get a view of the deformity within."
As the boat approached Albany, Eve expressed her satisfaction in
still stronger terms; and Grace was made perfectly happy, by hearing
her and Sir George declare that the place entirely exceeded their
expectations.
"I am glad to find, Eve, that you are so fast recovering your
American feelings," said her beautiful cousin, after one of those
expressions of agreeable disappointment, as they were seated at a
late dinner, in an inn. "You have at last found words to praise the
exterior of Albany; and I hope, by the time we return, you will be
disposed to see New-York with different eyes."
"I expected to see a capital in New-York, Grace, and in this I have
been grievously disappointed. Instead of finding the tastes, tone,
conveniences, architecture, streets, churches, shops, and society of
a capital, I found a huge expansion of common-place things, a
commercial town, and the most mixed and the least regulated society,
that I had ever met with. Expecting so much, where so little was
found, disappointment was natural. But in Albany, although a
political capital, I knew the nature of the government too well, to
expect more than a provincial town; and in this respect, I have found
one much above the level of similar places in other parts of the
world. I acknowledge that Albany has as much exceeded my expectations
in one sense, as New-York has fallen short of them in another."
"In this simple fact, Sir George Templemore," said Mr. Effingham,
"you may read the real condition of the country. In all that requires
something more than usual, a deficiency; in all that is deemed an
average, better than common. The tendency is to raise every thing
that is elsewhere degraded to a respectable height, when there
commences an attraction of gravitation that draws all towards the
centre; a little closer too than could be wished perhaps."
"Ay, ay, Ned; this is very pretty, with your attractions and
gravitations; but wait and judge for yourself of this average, of
which you now speak so complacently.
"Nay, John, I borrowed the image from you; if it be not accurate, I
shall hold you responsible for its defects."
"They tell me," said Eve, "that all American villages are the towns
in miniature; children dressed in hoops and wigs. Is this so, Grace?"
"A little; there is too much desire to imitate the towns, perhaps,
and possibly too little feeling for country life."
"This is a very natural consequence, after all, of people's living
entirely in such places," observed Sir George Templemore. "One sees
much of this on the continent of Europe, because the country
population is purely a country population; and less of it in England,
perhaps, because those who are at the head of society, consider town
and country as very distinct things."
"_La campagne est vraiment delicieuse en Amerique_," exclaimed
Mademoiselle Viefville, in whose eyes the whole country was little
more than _campagne_.
The next morning, our travellers proceeded by the way of Schenectady,
whence they ascended the beautiful valley of the Mohawk, by means of
a canal-boat, the cars that now rattle along its length not having
commenced their active flights, at that time. With the scenery, every
one was delighted; for while it differed essentially from that the
party had passed through the previous day, it was scarcely less
beautiful.
At a point where the necessary route diverged from the direction of
the canal, carriages of Mr. Effingham's were in readiness to receive
the travellers, and here they were also favoured by the presence of
Mr. Bragg, who fancied such an attention might be agreeable to the
young ladies, as well as to his employer.
Chapter IX. ("Tell me, where is fancy bred--)Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?"
SONG IN SHAKSPEARE.
The travellers were several hours ascending into the mountains, by a
country road that could scarcely be surpassed by a French wheel-track
of the same sort, for Mademoiselle Viefville protested, twenty times
in the course of the morning, that it was a thousand pities Mr.
Effingham had not the privilege of the _corvee_, that he might cause
the approach to his _terres_ to be kept in better condition. At
length they reached the summit, a point where the waters began to
flow south, when the road became tolerably level. From this time
their progress became more rapid, and they continued to advance two
or three hours longer at a steady pace.
Aristabulus now informed his companions that, in obedience to
instructions from John Effingham, he had ordered the coachmen to take
a road that led a little from the direct line of their journey, and
that they had now been travelling for some time on the more ancient
route to Templeton.
"I was aware of this," said Mr. Effingham, "though ignorant of the
reason. We are on the great western turnpike."
"Certainly, sir, and all according to Mr. John's request. There would
have been a great saving in distance, and agreeably to my notion, in
horse-flesh, had we quietly gone down the banks of the lake."
"Jack will explain his own meaning," returned Mr. Effingham, "and he
has stopped the other carriage, and alighted with Sir George,--a
hint, I fancy, that we are to follow their example."
Sure enough, the second carriage was now stopped, and Sir George
hastened to open its door.
"Mr. John Effingham, who acts as cicerone," cried the baronet,
"insists that every one shall put _pied a terre_ at this precise
spot, keeping the important reason still a secret, in the recesses of
his own bosom."
The ladies complied, and the carriages were ordered to proceed with
the domestics, leaving the rest of the travellers by themselves,
apparently in the heart of a forest.
"It is to be hoped, Mademoiselle, there are no banditti in America,"
said Eve, as they looked around them at the novel situation in which
they were placed, apparently by a pure caprice of her cousin.
"_Ou des sauvages_," returned the governess, who, in spite of her
ordinary intelligence and great good sense, had several times that
day cast uneasy and stolen glances into the bits of dark wood they
had occasionally passed.
"I will ensure your purses and your scalps, _mesdames_," cried John
Effingham gaily, "on condition that you will follow me implicitly;
and by way of pledge for my faith, I solicit the honour of supporting
Mademoiselle Viefville on this unworthy arm."
The governess laughingly accepted the conditions, Eve took the arm of
her father, and Sir George offered his to Grace; Aristabulus, to his
surprise, being left to walk entirely alone. It struck him, however,
as so singularly improper that a young lady should be supported on
such an occasion by her own father, that he frankly and gallantly
proposed to Mr. Effingham to relieve him of his burthen, an offer
that was declined with quite as much distinctness as it was made.
"I suppose cousin Jack has a meaning to his melodrama," said Eve, as
they entered the forest, "and I dare say, dearest father, that you
are behind the scenes, though I perceive determined secrecy in your
face."
"John may have a cave to show us, or some tree of extraordinary
height; such things existing in the country."
"We are very confiding, Mademoiselle, for I detect treachery in every
face around us. Even Miss Van Cortlandt has the air of a conspirator,
and seems to be in league with something or somebody. Pray Heaven, it
be not with wolves."
"_Des loups_!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Viefville, stopping short, with
a mien so alarmed as to excite a general laugh--"_est ce qu'il y a
des loups et des sangliers dans cette foret_?"
"No, Mademoiselle," returned her companion--"this is only barbarous
America, and not civilized France. Were we in _le departement de la
Seine_, we might apprehend some such dangers, but being merely in the
mountains of Otsego, we are reasonably safe."
"_Je l'espere_," murmured the governess, as she reluctantly and
distrustfully proceeded, glancing her eyes incessantly to the right
and left. The path now became steep and rather difficult; so much so,
indeed, as to indispose them all to conversation. It led beneath the
branches of lofty pines, though there existed, on every side of them,
proofs of the ravages man had committed in that noble forest. At
length they were compelled to stop for breath, after having ascended
considerably above the road they had left.
"I ought to have said that the spot where we entered on this path, is
memorable in the family history," observed John Effingham, to
Eve--"for it was the precise spot where one of our predecessors
lodged a shot in the shoulder of another."
"Then I know precisely where we are!" cried our heroine, "though I
cannot yet imagine why we are led into this forest, unless it be to
visit some spot hallowed by a deed of Natty Bumppo's!"
"Time will solve this mystery, as well as all others. Let us
proceed."
Again they ascended, and, after a few more minutes of trial, they
reached a sort of table-land, and drew near an opening in the trees,
where a small circle had evidently been cleared of its wood, though
it was quite small and untilled. Eve looked curiously about her, as
did all the others to whom the place was novel, and she was lost in
doubt.
"There seems to be a void beyond us," said the baronet--- "I rather
think Mr. John Effingham has led us to the verge of a view."
At this suggestion the party moved on in a body, and were well
rewarded for the toil of the
Comments (0)