The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 - J Fenimore Cooper (books to improve english TXT) 📗
- Author: J Fenimore Cooper
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Peaceful Hours Of Our Out-Lyings, Whether It Might Be On The Trail Of
A War-Party Of The Mingoes, Or On The Watch For A York Deer. I
Remember To Have Heard It, Then And There, Said, That The Blessed Land
Was Once Fertile As The Bottoms Of The Mississippi, And Groaning With
Its Stores Of Grain And Fruits; But That The Judgment Has Since Fallen
Upon It, And That It Is Now More Remarkable For Its Barrenness Than
Any Qualities To Boast Of."
"It Is True; But Egypt--Nay Much Of Africa Furnishes Still More
Striking Proofs Of This Exhaustion Of Nature."
"Tell Me," Interrupted The Old Man, "Is It A Certain Truth That
Buildings Are Still Standing In That Land Of Pharaoh, Which May Be
Likened, In Their Stature, To The Hills Of The 'Arth?"
"It Is As True As That Nature Never Refuses To Bestow Her Incisores On
The Animals, Mammalia; Genus, Homo--"
"It Is Very Marvellous! And It Proves How Great He Must Be, When His
Miserable Creatur's Can Accomplish Such Wonders! Many Men Must Have
Been Needed To Finish Such An Edifice; Ay, And Men Gifted With
Strength And Skill Too! Does The Land Abound With Such A Race To This
Hour?"
"Far From It. Most Of The Country Is A Desert, And But For A Mighty
River All Would Be So."
"Yes; Rivers Are Rare Gifts To Such As Till The Ground, As Any One May
See Who Journeys Far Atween The Rocky Mountains And The Mississippi.
But How Do You Account For These Changes On The Face Of The 'Arth
Part 3 Chapter 22 Pg 50Itself, And For This Downfall Of Nations, You Men Of The Schools?"
"It Is To Be Ascribed To Moral Cau--"
"You're Right--It Is Their Morals; Their Wickedness And Their Pride,
And Chiefly Their Waste That Has Done It All! Now Listen To What The
Experience Of An Old Man Teaches Him. I Have Lived Long, As These Grey
Hairs And Wrinkled Hands Will Show, Even Though My Tongue Should Fail
In The Wisdom Of My Years. And I Have Seen Much Of The Folly Of Man;
For His Natur' Is The Same, Be He Born In The Wilderness, Or Be He
Born In The Towns. To My Weak Judgment It Hath Ever Seemed That His
Gifts Are Not Equal To His Wishes. That He Would Mount Into The
Heavens, With All His Deformities About Him, If He Only Knew The Road,
No One Will Gainsay, That Witnesses His Bitter Strivings Upon 'Arth.
If His Power Is Not Equal To His Will, It Is Because The Wisdom Of The
Lord Hath Set Bounds To His Evil Workings."
"It Is Much Too Certain That Certain Facts Will Warrant A Theory,
Which Teaches The Natural Depravity Of The Genus; But If Science Could
Be Fairly Brought To Bear On A Whole Species At Once, For Instance,
Education Might Eradicate The Evil Principle."
"That, For Your Education! The Time Has Been When I Have Thought It
Possible To Make A Companion Of A Beast. Many Are The Cubs, And Many
Are The Speckled Fawns That I Have Reared With These Old Hands, Until
I Have Even Fancied Them Rational And Altered Beings--But What Did It
Amount To? The Bear Would Bite, And The Deer Would Run,
Notwithstanding My Wicked Conceit In Fancying I Could Change A Temper
That The Lord Himself Had Seen Fit To Bestow. Now If Man Is So Blinded
In His Folly As To Go On, Ages On Ages, Doing Harm Chiefly To Himself,
There Is The Same Reason To Think That He Has Wrought His Evil Here As
In The Countries You Call So Old. Look About You, Man; Where Are The
Multitudes That Once Peopled These Prairies; The Kings And The
Palaces; The Riches And The Mightinesses Of This Desert?"
"Where Are The Monuments That Would Prove The Truth Of So Vague A
Theory?"
"I Know Not What You Call A Monument."
"The Works Of Man! The Glories Of Thebes And Balbec--Columns,
Catacombs, And Pyramids! Standing Amid The Sands Of The East, Like
Wrecks On A Rocky Shore, To Testify To The Storms Of Ages!"
"They Are Gone. Time Has Lasted Too Long For Them. For Why? Time Was
Made By The Lord, And They Were Made By Man. This Very Spot Of Reeds
And Grass, On Which You Now Sit, May Once Have Been The Garden Of Some
Mighty King. It Is The Fate Of All Things To Ripen, And Then To Decay.
The Tree Blossoms, And Bears Its Fruit, Which Falls, Rots, Withers,
And Even The Seed Is Lost! Go, Count The Rings Of The Oak And Of The
Sycamore; They Lie In Circles, One About Another, Until The Eye Is
Blinded In Striving To Make Out Their Numbers; And Yet A Full Change
Of The Seasons Comes Round While The Stem Is Winding One Of These
Little Lines About Itself, Like The Buffaloe Changing His Coat, Or The
Part 3 Chapter 22 Pg 51Buck His Horns; And What Does It All Amount To? There Does The Noble
Tree Fill Its Place In The Forest, Loftier, And Grander, And Richer,
And More Difficult To Imitate, Than Any Of Your Pitiful Pillars, For A
Thousand Years, Until The Time Which The Lord Hath Given It Is Full.
Then Come The Winds, That You Cannot See, To Rive Its Bark; And The
Waters From The Heavens, To Soften Its Pores; And The Rot, Which All
Can Feel And None Can Understand, To Humble Its Pride And Bring It To
The Ground. From That Moment Its Beauty Begins To Perish. It Lies
Another Hundred Years, A Mouldering Log, And Then A Mound Of Moss And
'Arth; A Sad Effigy Of A Human Grave. This Is One Of Your Genuine
Monuments, Though Made By A Very Different Power Than Such As Belongs
To Your Chiseling Masonry! And After All, The Cunningest Scout Of The
Whole Dahcotah Nation Might Pass His Life In Searching For The Spot
Where It Fell, And Be No Wiser When His Eyes Grew Dim, Than When They
Were First Opened. As If That Was Not Enough To Convince Man Of His
Ignorance; And As Though It Were Put There In Mockery Of His Conceit,
A Pine Shoots Up From The Roots Of The Oak, Just As Barrenness Comes
After Fertility, Or As These Wastes Have Been Spread, Where A Garden
May Have Been Created. Tell Me Not Of Your Worlds That Are Old! It Is
Blasphemous To Set Bounds And Seasons, In This Manner, To The Works Of
The Almighty, Like A Woman Counting The Ages Of Her Young."
"Friend Hunter, Or Trapper," Returned The Naturalist, Clearing His
Throat In Some Intellectual Confusion At The Vigorous Attack Of His
Companion, "Your Deductions, If Admitted By The World, Would Sadly
Circumscribe The Efforts Of Reason, And Much Abridge The Boundaries Of
Knowledge."
"So Much The Better--So Much The Better; For I Have Always Found That
A Conceited Man Never Knows Content. All Things Prove It. Why Have We
Not The Wings Of The Pigeon, The Eyes Of The Eagle, And The Legs Of
The Moose, If It Had Been Intended That Man Should Be Equal To All His
Wishes?"
"There Are Certain Physical Defects, Venerable Trapper, In Which I Am
Always Ready To Admit Great And Happy Alterations Might Be Suggested.
For Example, In My Own Order Of Phalangacru--"
"Cruel Enough Would Be The Order, That Should Come From Miserable
Hands Like Thine! A Touch From Such A Finger Would Destroy The Mocking
Deformity Of A Monkey! Go, Go; Human Folly Is Not Needed To Fill Up
The Great Design Of God. There Is No Stature, No Beauty, No
Proportions, Nor Any Colours In Which Man Himself Can Well Be
Fashioned, That Is Not Already Done To His Hands."
"That Is Touching Another Great And Much Disputed Question," Exclaimed
The Doctor, Who Seized Upon Every Distinct Idea That The Ardent And
Somewhat Dogmatic Old Man Left Exposed To His Mental Grasp, With The
Vain Hope Of Inducing A Logical Discussion, In Which He Might Bring
His Battery Of Syllogisms To Annihilate The Unscientific Defences Of
His Antagonist.
It Is, However, Unnecessary To Our Narrative To Relate The Erratic
Discourse That Ensued. The Old Man Eluded The Annihilating Blows Of
Part 3 Chapter 22 Pg 52His Adversary, As The Light Armed Soldier Is Wont To Escape The
Efforts Of The More Regular Warrior, Even While He Annoys Him Most,
And An Hour Passed Away Without Bringing Any Of The Numerous Subjects,
On Which They Touched, To A Satisfactory Conclusion. The Arguments
Acted, However, On The Nervous System Of The Doctor, Like So Many
Soothing Soporifics, And By The Time His Aged Companion Was Disposed
To Lay His Head On His Pack, Obed, Refreshed By His Recent Mental
Joust, Was In A Condition To Seek His Natural Rest, Without Enduring
The Torments Of The Incubus, In The Shapes Of Teton Warriors And
Bloody Tomahawks.
Part 3 Chapter 23 Pg 53
--Shakspeare.
The Sleep Of The Fugitives Lasted For Several Hours. The Trapper Was
The First To Shake Off Its Influence, As He Had Been The Last To Court
Its Refreshment. Rising, Just As The Grey Light Of Day Began To
Brighten That Portion Of The Studded Vault Which Rested On The Eastern
Margin Of The Plain, He Summoned His Companions From Their Warm Lairs,
And Pointed Out The Necessity Of Their Being Once More On The Alert.
While Middleton Attended To The Arrangements Necessary To The Comforts
Of Inez And Ellen, In The Long And
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