Home as Found - James Fenimore Cooper (ebook reader wifi txt) 📗
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"The farm you can see lying near yonder wood, Mr. Effingham," coolly
observed Aristabulus, "sold last spring for thirty dollars the acre,
and was bought for twenty, the summer-before!"
"_Chacun a son gout!_" said Eve.
"And yet, I fear, this glorious scene is marred by the envy,
rapacity, uncharitableness, and all the other evil passions of man!"
continued the more philosophical Mr. Effingham. "Perhaps, it were
better as it was so lately, when it lay in the solitude and peace of
the wilderness, the resort of birds and beasts."
"Who prey on each other, dearest father, just as the worst of our own
species prey on their fellows."
"True, child--true. And yet, I never gaze on one of these scenes of
holy calm, without wishing that the great tabernacle of nature might
be tenanted only by those who have a feeling for its perfection."
"Do you see the lady," said Aristabulus, "that is just coming out on
the lawn, in front of the 'Wig-wam?'" for that was the name John
Effingham had seen fit to give the altered and amended abode. "Here,
Miss Effingham, more in a line with the top of the pine beneath us."
"I see the person you mean; she seems to be looking in this
direction."
"You are quite right, miss; she knows that we are to stop on the
Vision, and no doubt sees us. That lady is your father's cook, Miss
Effingham, and is thinking of the late breakfast that has been
ordered to be in readiness against our arrival."
Eve concealed her amusement, for, by this time, she had discovered
that Mr. Bragg had a way peculiar to himself, or at least to his
class, of using many of the commoner words of the English language.
It would perhaps be expecting too much of Sir George Templemore, not
to expect him to smile, on such an occasion.
"Ah!" exclaimed Aristabulus, pointing towards the lake, across which
several skiffs were stealing, some in one direction, and some in
another, "there is a boat out, that I think must contain the poet."
"Poet!" repeated John Effingham. "Have we reached that pass at
Templeton?"
"Lord, Mr. John Effingham, you must have very contracted notions of
the place, if you think a poet a great novelty in it. Why, sir, we
have caravans of wild beasts, nearly every summer!"
"This is, indeed, a step in advance, of which I was ignorant. Here
then, in a region, that so lately was tenanted by beasts of prey,
beasts are already brought as curiosities. You perceive the state of
the country in this fact, Sir George Templemore."
"I do indeed; but I should like to hear from Mr Bragg, what sort of
animals are in these caravans?"
"All sorts, from monkeys to elephants. The last had a rhinoceros."
"Rhinoceros!--Why there was but one, lately, in all Europe. Neither
the Zoological Gardens, nor the _Jardin des Plantes_, had a
rhinoceros! I never saw but one, and that was in a caravan at Rome,
that travelled between St. Petersburgh and Naples."
"Well, sir, we have rhinoceroses here;--and monkeys, and zebras, and
poets, and painters, and congressmen, and bishops, and governors, and
all other sorts of creatures."
"And who may the particular poet be, Mr. Bragg," Eve asked, "who
honours Templeton, with his presence just at this moment?"
"That is more than I can tell you, miss, for, though some eight or
ten of us have done little else than try to discover his name for the
last week, we have not got even as far as that one fact. He and the
gentleman who travels with him, are both uncommonly close on such
matters, though I think we have some as good catechisers in
Templeton, as can be found any where within fifty miles of us!"
"There is another gentleman with him--do you suspect them both of
being poets?"
"Oh, no, Miss, the other is the waiter of the poet; that we know, as
he serves him at dinner, and otherwise superintends his concerns;
such as brushing his clothes, and keeping his room in order."
"This is being in luck for a poet, for they are of a class that are a
little apt to neglect the decencies. May I ask why you suspect the
master of being a poet, if the man be so assiduous?"
"Why, what else can he be? In the first place, Miss Effingham, he has
no name."
"That is a reason in point," said John Effingham "very few poets
having names."
"Then he is out on the lake half his time, gazing up at the 'Silent
Pine,' or conversing with the 'Speaking Rocks,' or drinking at the
'Fairy Spring.'"
"All suspicious, certainly; especially the dialogue with the rocks;
though not absolutely conclusive."
"But, Mr. John Effingham, the man does not take his food like other
people. He rises early, and is out on the water, or up in the forest,
all the morning, and then returns to eat his breakfast in the middle
of the forenoon; he goes into the woods again, or on the lake, and
comes back to dinner, just as I take my tea."
"This settles the matter. Any man who presumes to do all this, Mr.
Bragg, deserves to be called by some harder name, even, than that of
a poet. Pray, sir, how long has this eccentric person been a resident
of Templeton?"
"Hist--there he is, as I am a sinner; and it was not he and the other
gentlemen that were in the boat."
The rebuked manner of Aristabulus, and the dropping of his voice,
induced the whole party to look in the direction of his eye, and,
sure enough, a gentleman approached them, in the dress a man of the
world is apt to assume in the country, an attire of itself that was
sufficient to attract comment in a place where the general desire was
to be as much like town as possible, though it was sufficiently neat
and simple. He came from the forest, along the table-land that
crowned the mountain for some distance, following one of the foot-
paths that the admirers of the beautiful landscape have made all over
that pleasant wood. As he came out into the cleared spot, seeing it
already in possession of a party, he bowed, and was passing on, with
a delicacy that Mr. Bragg would be apt to deem eccentric, when
suddenly stopping, he gave a look of intense and eager interest at
the whole party, smiled, advanced rapidly nearer, and discovered his
entire person.
"I ought not to be surprised," he said, as he advanced so near as to
render doubt any longer impossible, "for I knew you were expected,
and indeed waited for your arrival, and yet this meeting has been so
unexpected as to leave me scarcely in possession of my faculties."
It is needless to dwell upon the warmth and number of the greetings.
To the surprise of Mr. Bragg, his poet was not only known, but
evidently much esteemed by all the party, with the exception of Miss
Van Cortlandt, to whom he was cordially presented by the name of Mr.
Powis. Eve managed, by an effort of womanly pride, to suppress the
violence of her emotions, and the meeting passed off as one of mutual
surprise and pleasure, without any exhibition of unusual feeling to
attract comment.
"We ought to express our wonder at finding you here before us, my
dear young friend," said Mr. Effingham, still holding Paul's hand
affectionately between his own; "and, even now, that my own eyes
assure me of the fact, I can hardly believe you would arrive at New-
York, and quit it, without giving us the satisfaction of seeing you."
"In that, sir, you are not wrong; certainly nothing could have
deprived me of that pleasure, but the knowledge that it would not
have been agreeable to yourselves. My sudden appearance here,
however, will be without mystery, when I tell you that I returned
from England, by the way of Quebec, the Great Lakes, and the Falls,
having been induced by my friend Ducie to take that route, in
consequence of his ship's being sent to the St. Lawrence. A desire
for novelty, and particularly a desire to see the celebrated
cataract, which is almost _the_ lion of America, did the rest."
"We are glad to have you with us on any terms, and I take it as
particularly kind, that you did not pass my door. You have been here
some days?"
"Quite a week. On reaching Utica I diverged from the great route to
see this place, not anticipating the pleasure of meeting you here so
early; but hearing you were expected, I determined to remain, with a
hope, which I rejoice to find was not vain, that you would not be
sorry to see an old fellow-traveller again."
Mr. Effingham pressed his hands warmly again, before he relinquished
them; an assurance of welcome that Paul received with thrilling
satisfaction.
"I have been in Templeton almost long enough," the young man resumed,
laughing, "to set up as a candidate for the public favour, if I
rightly understand the claims of a denizen. By what I can gather from
casual remarks, the old proverb that 'the new broom sweeps clean'
applies with singular fidelity throughout all this region.
"Have you a copy of your last ode, or a spare epigram, in your
pocket?" inquired John Effingham.
Paul looked surprised, and Aristabulus, for a novelty, was a little
dashed. Paul looked surprised, as a matter of course, for, although
he had been a little annoyed by the curiosity that is apt to haunt a
village imagination, since his arrival in Templeton, he did not in
the least suspect that his love of a beautiful nature had been
imputed to devotion to the muses. Perceiving, however, by the smiles
of those around him, that there was more meant than was expressed, he
had the tact to permit the explanation to come from the person who
had put the question, if it were proper it should come at all.
"We will defer the great pleasure that is in reserve," continued John
Effingham, "to another time. At present, it strikes me that the lady
of the lawn is getting to be impatient, and the _dejeuner a la
fourchette_, that I have had the precaution to order, is probably
waiting our appearance. It must be eaten, though under the penalty of
being thought moon-struck rhymers by the whole State. Come, Ned; if
you are sufficiently satisfied with looking at the Wigwam in a
bird's-eye view, we will descend and put its beauties to the severer
test of a close examination."
This proposal was readily accepted, though all tore themselves from
that lovely spot with reluctance, and not until they had paused to
take another look.
"Fancy the shores of this lake lined with villas." said Eve, "church-
towers raising their dark heads among these hills; each mountain
crowned with a castle, or a crumbling ruin, and all the other
accessories of an old state of society, and what would then be the
charms of the view!"
"Less than they are to-day, Miss Effingham," said Paul Powis; "for
though poetry requires--you all smile, is it forbidden to touch on
such subjects?"
"Not at all, so it be done in wholesome rhymes," returned the
baronet. "You ought to know that you are expected even to speak in
doggerel."
Paul ceased, and the whole party walked away from the place, laughing
and light-hearted.
Chapter X. ("It is the spot, I came to seek, My father's ancient burial place--)
"It is the spot--I know it well, Of which our old traditions tell."
BRYANT.
From the day after their arrival in New-York, or that on which the
account of the arrests by the English cruiser had appeared in the
journals, little had been said by any of our party concerning Paul
Powis, or of the extraordinary manner in which he had left the
packet, at the very moment she was about to enter her haven. It is
true that Mr. Dodge, arrived at Dodgeopolis, had dilated on the
subject in his hebdomadal, with divers additions and conjectures of
his own, and this, too, in a way to attract, a good deal of attention
in the interior; but, it being a rule
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