The Redskins; or, Indian and Injin, Volume 1.

by James Fenimore Cooper

  CHAPTER V.

  "And she hath smiles to earth unknown---- Smiles, that with motion of their own Do spread, and sink, and rise; That come and go with endless play And ever, as they pass away, Are hidden in her eyes."

  WORDSWORTH.

  I was early in costume the following morning. I question if my ownmother could have known me, had she lived long enough to see thewhiskers sprout on my cheeks, and to contemplate my countenance as aman. I went into Dunning's library, drew the little hurdy-gurdy from itshiding-place, slung it, and began to play St. Patrick's Day in theMorning, with spirit, and, I trust I may add, with execution. I was inthe height of the air, when the door opened, and Barney thrust hishigh-cheeked-bone face into the room, his mouth as wide open as that ofa frozen porker.

  "Where the divil did ye come from?" demanded the new footman, with themuscles of that vast aperture of his working from grin to grim, and grimto grin again. "Yee's wilcome to the tchune; but how comes ye here?"

  "I coomes vrom Halle, in Preussen. Vat isht your vaterland?"

  "Be yees a Jew?"

  "Nein--I isht a goot Christian. Vilt you haf Yankee Tootle?"

  "Yankee T'under! Ye'll wake up the masther, and he'll be displais'd,else ye might work upon t'at tchune till the end of time. That I shouldhear it here, in my own liberary, and ould Ireland t'ree thousandlaigues away!"

  A laugh from Dunning interrupted the dialogue, when Barney vanished, nodoubt anticipating some species of American punishment for a presumeddelinquency. Whether the blundering, well-meaning, honest fellow reallyascertained who we were that breakfasted with his master, I do notknow; but we got the meal and left the house without seeing his faceagain, Dunning having a young yellow fellow to do the service of thetable.

  I need scarcely say that I felt a little awkward at finding myself inthe streets of New York in such a guise; but the gravity andself-possession of my uncle were a constant source of amusement to me.He actually sold a watch on the wharf before the boat left it, though Iimputed his success to the circumstance that his price was what abrother dealer, who happened to be trading in the same neighbourhood,pronounced "onconscionably low." We took a comfortable state-roombetween us, under the pretence of locking-up our property, and strolledabout the boat, gaping and looking curious, as became our class.

  "Here are at least a dozen people that I know," said my uncle, as wewere lounging around--loafing around, is the modern Doric--about thetime that the boat was paddling past Fort Washington; "I havereconnoitred in all quarters, and find quite a dozen. I have beenconversing with an old school-fellow, and one with whom I have everlived in tolerable intimacy, for the last ten minutes, and find mybroken English and disguise are perfect. I am confident my dear motherherself would not recognise me."

  "We can then amuse ourselves with my grandmother and the young ladies,"I answered, "when we reach the Nest. For my part, it strikes me that wehad better keep our own secret to the last moment."

  "Hush! As I live, there is Seneca Newcome this moment! He is coming thisway, and we must be Germans again."

  Sure enough, there was 'Squire Seneky, as the honest farmers around theNest call him; though many of them must change their practices, or itwill shortly become so absurd to apply the term "honest" to them, thatno one will have the hardihood to use it. Newcome came slowly towardsthe forecastle, on which we were standing; and my uncle determined toget into conversation with him, as a means of further proving the virtueof our disguises, as well as possibly of opening the way to somecommunications that might facilitate our visit to the Nest. With thisview, the pretended pedlar drew a watch from his pocket, and, offeringit meekly to the inspection of the quasi lawyer, he said--

  "Puy a vatch, shentlemans?"

  "Hey! what? Oh! a watch," returned Seneca, in that high, condescending,vulgar key, with which the salt of the earth usually affect to treatthose they evidently think much beneath them in intellect, station, orsome other great essential, at the very moment they are bursting withenvy, and denouncing as aristocrats all who are above them. "Hey! awatch, is it? What countryman are you, friend?"

  "A Charmans--ein Teutscher."

  "A German--ine Tycher is the place you come from, I s'pose?"

  "Nein--ein Teutscher isht a Charman."

  "Oh, yes! I understand. How long have you been in Ameriky?"

  "Twelf moont's."

  "Why, that's most long enough to make you citizens. Where do you live?"

  "Nowhere; I lifs jest asht it happens--soometimes here, ant soometimesdere."

  "Ay, ay! I understand--no legal domicile, but lead a wandering life.Have you many of these watches for sale?"

  "Yees--I haf asht many as twenty. Dey are as sheep as dirt, and go likepig clocks."

  "And what may be your price for this?"

  "Dat you can haf for only eight tollars. Effery poty wilt say it isgolt, dat doesn't know petter."

  "Oh! it isn't gold then--I swan!"--what this oath meant I never exactlyknew, though I suppose it to be a puritan mode of saying "I swear!" theattempts to cheat the devil in this way being very common among theirpious descendants, though even "Smith Thompson" himself can do no manany good in such a case of conscience--"I swan! you come plaguy neartaking even me in! Will you come down from that price any?"

  "If you wilt gif me some atfice, perhaps I may. You look like a gootshentlemans, and one dat woultn't sheat a poor Charmans; ant effery potywants so much to sheat de poor Charmans, dat I will take six, if youwill drow in some atfice."

  "Advice? You have come to the right man for that! Walk a little thisway, where we shall be alone. What is the natur' of the matter--actionon the case, or a tort?"

  "Nein, nein! it isht not law dat I wants, put atfice."

  "Well, but advice leads to law, ninety-nine times in a hundred."

  "Ya, ya!" answered the pedlar, laughing; "dat may be so; put it isht notwhat I vants--I vants to know vere a Charman can trafel wit' his gootsin de coontry, and not in de pig towns."

  "I understand you--six dollars, hey! That sounds high for such a lookingwatch"--he had just before mistaken it for gold--"but I'm always thepoor man's friend, and despise aristocracy"--what Seneca hated with thestrongest hate, he ever fancied he _despised_ the most, and byaristocracy he merely understood gentlemen and ladies, in the truesignification of the words--"why, I'm always ready to help along thehonest citizen. If you could make up your mind, now, to part with thisone watch for nawthin', I think I could tell you a part of the countrywhere you might sell the other nineteen in a week."

  "Goot!" exclaimed my uncle, cheerfully. "Take him--he ist your broberty,and wilcome. Only show me de town where I canst sell de nineteenudders."

  Had my uncle Ro been a true son of peddling, he would have charged adollar extra on each of the nineteen, and made eleven dollars by hispresent liberality.

  "It is no town at all--only a township," returned the literal Seneca."Did you expect it would be a city?"

  "Vat cares I? I woult radder sell my vatches to goot, honest, countrymen, dan asht to de best burghers in de land."

  "You're my man! The right spirit is in you. I hope you're no patroon--noaristocrat?"

  "I don't know vat isht badroon, or vat isht arishtocrat."

  "No! You are a happy man in your ignorance. A patroon is a nobleman whoowns another man's land; and an aristocrat is a body that thinks himselfbetter than his neighbours, friend."

  "Well, den, I isht no badroon, for I don't own no land at all, not evenmine own; and I ishn't petter asht no poty at all."

  "Yes, you be; you've only to think so, and you'll be the greatestgentleman of 'em all."

  "Well, den, I will dry and dink so, and be petter asht de greatestshentlemans of dem all. But dat won't do, nudder, as dat vilt make mepetter dan you; for you are one of de greatest of dem all, shentlemans."

  "Oh! as for me, let me alone. I scorn being on their level. I go for'Down with the rent!' and so'll you, too, afore you've been a week inour part of the country."<
br />
  "Vat isht de rent dat you vants to git down?"

  "It's a thing that's opposed to the spirit of the institutions, as youcan see by my feelin's at this very moment. But no matter! I'll keep thewatch, if you say so, and show you the way into that part of thecountry, as your pay."

  "Agreet, shentlemans. Vat I vants is atfice, and vat you vants is avatch."

  Here uncle Ro laughed so much like himself, when he ought clearly tohave laughed in broken English, that I was very much afraid he mightgive the alarm to our companion; but he did not. From that time, thebest relations existed between us and Seneca, who, in the course of theday, recognised us by sundry smiles and winks, though I could plainlysee he did not like the anti-aristocratic principle sufficiently to wishto seem too intimate with us. Before we reached the islands, however, hegave us directions where to meet him in the morning, and we parted, whenthe boat stopped alongside of the pier at Albany that afternoon, thebest friends in the world.

  "Albany! dear, good old Albany!" exclaimed my uncle Ro, as we stopped onthe draw of the bridge to look at the busy scene in the basin, whereliterally hundreds of canal-boats were either lying to discharge or toload, or were coming and going, to say nothing of other craft; "dear,good old Albany! you are a town to which I ever return with pleasure,for you at least never disappoint me. A first-rate country-place youare; and, though I miss your quaint old Dutch church, and yourrustic-looking old _English_ church from the centre of your principalstreet, almost every change _you_ make is respectable. I know nothingthat tells so much against you as changing the name of Market street bythe paltry imitation of Broadway; but, considering that a horde ofYankees have come down upon you since the commencement of the presentcentury, you are lucky that the street was not called the Appian Way.But, excellent old Albany! whom even the corruptions of politics cannotchange in the core, lying against thy hillside, and surrounded with thypicturesque scenery, there is an air of respectability about thee that Iadmire, and a quiet prosperity that I love. Yet, how changed since myboyhood! Thy simple stoups have all vanished; thy gables aredisappearing; marble and granite are rising in thy streets, too, butthey take honest shapes, and are free from the ambition of mounting onstilts; thy basin has changed the whole character of thy oncesemi-sylvan, semi-commercial river; but it gives to thy young manhood anappearance of abundance and thrift that promise well for thy age!"

  The reader may depend on it that I laughed heartily at this rhapsody;for I could hardly enter into my uncle's feelings. Albany is certainly avery good sort of a place, and relatively a more respectable-lookingtown than the "_commercial_ emporium," which, after all, externally, isa mere huge expansion of a very marked mediocrity, with the pretensionof a capital in its estimate of itself. But Albany lays no claim to beanything more than a provincial town, and in that class it is highlyplaced. By the way, there is nothing in which "_our_ people," to speakidiomatically, more deceive themselves, than in their estimate of whatcomposes a capital. It would be ridiculous to suppose that therepresentatives of such a government as this could impart to any placethe tone, opinions, habits and manners of a capital; for, if they did,they would impart it on the novel principle of communicating that whichthey do not possess in their own persons. Congress itself, thoughtolerably free from most shackles, including those of the constitution,is not up to that. In my opinion, a man accustomed to the world might beplaced blindfolded in the most finished quarter of New York, and theplace has new quarters in which the incongruities I have alreadymentioned do not exist, and, my life on it, he could pronounce, as soonas the bandage was removed, that he was not in a town where the tone ofa capital exists. The last thing to make a capital is trade. Indeed, theman who hears the words "business" and "the merchants" ringing in hisears, may safely conclude, _de facto_, that he is not in a capital. Now,a New-York village is often much less rustic than the villages of themost advanced country of Europe; but a New-York town is many degreesbelow any capital of a large State in the old world.

  Will New York ever be a capital? Yes--out of all question, yes. But theday will not come until after the sudden changes of condition whichimmediately and so naturally succeeded the revolution, have ceased toinfluence ordinary society, and those above again impart to those belowmore than they receive. This restoration to the natural state of thingsmust take place, as soon as society gets settled; and there will benothing to prevent a town living under our own institutions--spirit,_tendencies_ and all--from obtaining the highest tone that ever yetprevailed in a capital. The folly is in anticipating the natural courseof events. Nothing will more hasten these events, however, than aliterature that is controlled, not by the lower, but by the higheropinion of the country; which literature is yet, in a great degree, tobe created.

  I had dispensed with the monkey, after trying to get along with thecreature for an hour or two, and went around only with my music. I wouldrather manage an army of anti-renters than one monkey. With thehurdy-gurdy slung around my neck, therefore, I followed my uncle, whoactually sold another watch before we reached a tavern. Of course we didnot presume to go to Congress Hall, or the Eagle, for we knew we shouldnot be admitted. This was the toughest part of our adventures. I am ofopinion my uncle made a mistake; for he ventured to a second-classhouse, under the impression that one of the sort usually frequented bymen of our supposed stamp might prove too coarse for us, altogether. Ithink we should have been better satisfied with the coarse fare of acoarse tavern, than with the shabby-genteel of the house we blunderedinto. In the former, everything would have reminded us, in a way weexpected to be reminded, that we were out of the common track; and wemight have been amused with the change, though it is one singularly hardto be endured. I remember to have heard a young man, accustomed fromchildhood to the better habits of the country, but who went to sea alad, before the mast, declare that the coarseness of his shipmates, andthere is no vulgarity about a true sailor, even when coarsest, gave himmore trouble to overcome, than all the gales, physical sufferings,labour, exposures and dangers, put together. I must confess, I havefound it so, too, in my little experience. While acting as a strollingmusician, I could get along with anything better than the coarse habitswhich I encountered at the table. Your silver-forkisms, and your purelyconventional customs, as a matter of course, no man of the worldattaches any serious importance to; but there are conventionalities thatbelong to the fundamental principles of civilized society, which becomesecond nature, and with which it gets to be hard, indeed, to dispense. Ishall say as little as possible of the disagreeables of my new trade,therefore, but stick to the essentials.

  The morning of the day which succeeded that of our arrival at Albany, myuncle Ro and I took our seats in the train, intending to go to Saratoga,via Troy. I wonder the Trojan who first thought of playing thistravestie on Homer, did not think of calling the place Troyville, orTroyborough! That would have been semi-American, at least, whereas thepresent appellation is so purely classical! It is impossible to walkthrough the streets of this neat and flourishing town, which alreadycounts its twenty thousand souls, and not have the images of Achilles,and Hector, and Priam, and Hecuba, pressing on the imagination a littleuncomfortably. Had the place been called Try, the name would have been asensible one; for it is trying all it can to get the better of Albany;and, much as I love the latter venerable old town, I hope Troy maysucceed in its trying to prevent the Hudson from being bridged. By theway, I will here remark, for the benefit of those who have never seenany country but their own, that there is a view on the road betweenSchenectady and this Grecian place, just where the heights give thefirst full appearance of the valley of the Hudson, including glimpses ofWaterford, Lansingburg and Albany, with a full view of both Troys,which gives one a better idea of the affluence of European scenery, thanalmost any other spot I can recall in America. To my hurdy-gurdy:

  I made my first essay as a musician in public beneath the windows of theprincipal inn of Troy. I cannot say much in favour of the instrument,though I trust the playing itself was somewhat
respectable. This I knowfull well, that I soon brought a dozen fair faces to the windows of theinn, and that each was decorated with a smile. Then it was that Iregretted the monkey. Such an opening could not but awaken the dormantambition of even a "patriot" of the purest water, and I will own I wasgratified.

  Among the curious who thus appeared, were two whom I at once supposed tobe father and daughter. The former was a clergyman, and, as I fancied bysomething in his air, of "_the_ Church," begging pardon of those whotake offence at this exclusive title, and to whom I will just give ahint in passing. Any one at all acquainted with mankind, will at onceunderstand that no man who is certain of possessing any particularadvantage, ever manifests much sensibility because another lays claim toit also. In the constant struggles of the jealous, for instance, on thesubject of that universal source of jealous feeling, social position,the man or woman who is conscious of claims never troubles himself orherself about them. For them the obvious fact is sufficient. If it beanswered to this that the pretension of "_the_ Church" is exclusive, Ishall admit it is, and "conclusive," too. It is not exclusive, however,in the sense urged, since no one denies that there are many branches to"the Church," although those branches do not embrace everything. I wouldadvise those who take offence at "our" styling "ourselves" "_the_Church," to style themselves "_the_ Church," just as they call all theirparsons bishops, and see who will care about it. That is a touchstonewhich will soon separate the true metal from the alloy.

  My parson, I could easily see, was a _Church_ clergyman--not a_meeting_-house clergyman. How I ascertained that fact at a glance, Ishall not reveal; but I also saw in his countenance some of thatcuriosity which marks simplicity of character: it was not a vulgarfeeling, but one which induced him to beckon me to approach a littlenearer. I did so, when he invited me in. It was a little awkward, atfirst, I must acknowledge, to be beckoned about in this manner; butthere was something in the air and countenance of the daughter thatinduced me not to hesitate about complying. I cannot say that her beautywas so _very_ striking, though she was decidedly pretty; but theexpression of her face, eyes, smile, and all put together, was sosingularly sweet and feminine, that I felt impelled by a sympathy Ishall not attempt to explain, to enter the house, and ascend to the doorof a parlour that I saw at once was public, though it then contained noone but my proper hosts.

  "Walk in, young man," said the father, in a benevolent tone of voice. "Iam curious to see that instrument; and my daughter here, who has a tastefor music, wishes it as much as I do myself. What do you call it?"

  "Hurty-gurty," I answered.

  "From what part of the world do you come, my young friend?" continuedthe clergyman, raising his meek eyes to mine still more curiously.

  "Vrom Charmany; vrom Preussen, vere did reign so late de good KoenigWilhelm."

  "What does he say, Molly?"

  So the pretty creature bore the name of Mary! I liked the Molly, too; itwas a good sign, as none but the truly respectable dare use suchfamiliar appellations in these ambitious times. Molly sounded as ifthese people had the _aplomb_ of position and conscious breeding. Hadthey been vulgar, it would have been Mollissa.

  "It is not difficult to translate, father," answered one of the sweetestvoices that had ever poured its melody on my ear, and which was renderedstill more musical by the slight laugh that mingled with it. "He says heis from Germany--from Prussia, where the good King William latelyreigned."

  I liked the "father," too--that sounded refreshing, after passing anight among a tribe of foul-nosed adventurers in humanity, every one ofwhom had done his or her share towards caricaturing the once prettyappellatives of "Pa" and "Ma." A young lady may still say "Papa," oreven "Mamma," though it were far better that she said "Father" and"Mother;" but as for "Pa" and "Ma," they are now done with inrespectable life. They will not even do for the nursery.

  "And this instrument is a hurdy-gurdy?" continued the clergyman. "Whathave we here--the name spelt on it?"

  "Dat isht de maker's name--_Hochstiel fecit_."

  "Fecit!" repeated the clergyman; "is that German?"

  "Nein--dat isht Latin; _facio_, _feci_, _factum_, _facere_--_feci_,_feciste_, FECIT. It means make, I suppose you know."

  The parson looked at me, and at my dress and figure, with open surprise,and smiled as his eye glanced at his daughter. If asked why I made thissilly display of lower-form learning, I can only say that I chafed atbeing fancied a mere every-day street musician, that had left his monkeyat home, by the charming girl who stood gracefully bending over herfather's elbow, as the latter examined the inscription that was stampedon a small piece of ivory which had been let into the instrument. Icould see that Mary shrunk back a little under the sensitive feeling, sonatural to her sex, that she was manifesting too much freedom of mannerfor the presence of a youth who was nearer to her own class than shecould have supposed it possible for a player on the hurdy-gurdy to be. Ablush succeeded; but the glance of the soft blue eye that instantlyfollowed, seemed to set all at rest, and she leaned over her father'selbow again.

  "You understand Latin, then?" demanded the parent, examining me over hisspectacles from head to foot.

  "A leetle, sir--just a ferry leetle. In my coontry, efery mans ishtobliget to be a soldier some time, and them t'at knows Latin can be madesergeants and corporals."

  "That is Prussia, is it?"

  "Ya--Preussen, vere so late did reign de goot Koenig Wilhelm."

  "And is Latin much understood among you? I have heard that, in Hungary,most well-informed persons even speak the tongue."

  "In Charmany it isht not so. We all l'arnts somet'ing, but not all dostl'arn efery t'ing."

  I could see a smile struggling around the sweet lips of that dear girl,after I had thus delivered myself, as I fancied, with a most accurateinaccuracy; but she succeeded in repressing it, though those provokingeyes of hers continued to laugh, much of the time our interview lasted.

  "Oh! I very well know that in Prussia the schools are quite good, andthat your government pays great attention to the wants of all classes,"rejoined the clergyman; "but I confess some surprise that _you_ shouldunderstand anything of Latin. Now, even in this country, where we boastso much----"

  "Ye-e-s," I could not refrain from drawling out, "dey does poast a greatteal in dis coontry!"

  Mary actually laughed; whether it was at my words, or at the somewhatcomical manner I had assumed--a manner in which simplicity was _tantsoit peu_ blended with irony--I shall not pretend to say. As for thefather, his simplicity was of proof; and, after civilly waiting until myinterruption was done, he resumed what he had been on the point ofsaying.

  "I was about to add," continued the clergyman, "that even in thiscountry, where we boast so much"--the little minx of a daughter passedher hand over her eyes, and fairly coloured with the effort she made notto laugh again--"of the common schools, and of their influence on thepublic mind, it is not usual to find persons of your condition whounderstand the dead languages."

  "Ye-e-s," I replied; "it isht my condition dat misleats you, sir. Minefat'er wast a shentlemans, and he gifet me as goot an etication as deKoenig did gif to de Kron Prinz."

  Here, my desire to appear well in the eyes of Mary caused me to run intoanother silly indiscretion. How I was to explain the circumstance of theson of a Prussian gentleman, whose father had given him an education asgood as that which the King of his country had given to its CrownPrince, being in the streets of Troy, playing on a hurdy-gurdy, was adifficulty I did not reflect on for a moment. The idea of being thoughtby that sweet girl a mere uneducated boor, was intolerable to me; and Ithrew it off by this desperate falsehood--false in its accessories, buttrue in its main facts--as one would resent an insult. Fortune favouredme, however, far more than I had any right to expect.

  There is a singular disposition in the American character to believeevery well-mannered European at least a count. I do not mean that thosewho have seen the world are not like other persons in this respect; buta very great proportion of the c
ountry never has seen any other worldthan a world of "business." The credulity on this subject surpassethbelief; and, were I to relate facts of this nature that might beestablished in a court of justice, the very parties connected with themwould be ready to swear that they are caricatures. Now, well-mannered Itrust I am, and, though plainly dressed and thoroughly disguised,neither my air nor attire was absolutely mean. As my clothes were new, Iwas neat in my appearance; and there were possibly some incongruitiesabout the last, that might have struck eyes more penetrating than thoseof my companions. I could see that both father and daughter felt alively interest in me, the instant I gave them reason to believe I wasone of better fortunes. So many crude notions exist among us on thesubject of convulsions and revolutions in Europe, that I dare say, had Itold any improbable tale of the political condition of Prussia, it wouldhave gone down; for nothing so much resembles the ignorance thatprevails in America, generally, concerning the true state of things inEurope, as the ignorance that prevails in Europe, generally, concerningthe true state of things in America. As for Mary, her soft eyes seemedto me to be imbued with thrice their customary gentleness andcompassion, as she recoiled a step in native modesty, and gazed at me,when I had made my revelation.

  "If such is the case, my young friend," returned the clergyman, withbenevolent interest, "you ought, and _might_ easily be placed in abetter position than this you are now in. Have you any knowledge ofGreek?"

  "Certainly--Greek is moch study in Charmany."

  'In for a penny, in for a pound,' I thought.

  "And the modern languages--do you understand any of them?"

  "I speaks de five great tongues of Europe, more ast less well; and I readdem all, easily."

  "The _five_ tongues!" said the clergyman, counting on his fingers;"what can they be, Mary?"

  "French, and German, and Spanish, and Italian, I suppose, sir."

  "These make but four. What can be the fifth, my dear?"

  "De yoong laty forgets de Englisch. De Englisch is das funf."

  "Oh! yes, the English!" exclaimed the pretty creature, pressing her lipstogether to prevent laughing in my face.

  "True--I had forgotten the English, not being accustomed to think of itas a mere European tongue. I suppose, young man, you naturally speak theEnglish less fluently than any other of your five languages?"

  "Ya!"

  Again the smile struggled to the lips of Mary.

  "I feel a deep interest in you as a stranger, and am sorry we have onlymet to part so soon. Which way shall you be likely to direct your steps,my Prussian young friend?"

  "I go to a place which is callet Ravensnest--goot place to sell vatch,dey tells me."

  "Ravensnest!" exclaimed the father.

  "Ravensnest!" repeated the daughter, and that in tones which put thehurdy-gurdy to shame.

  "Why, Ravensnest is the place where I live, and the parish of which I amthe clergyman--the Protestant Episcopal clergyman, I mean."

  This, then, was the Rev. Mr. Warren, the divine who had been called toour church the very summer I left home, and who had been there eversince! My sister Martha had written me much concerning these people, andI felt as if I had known them for years. Mr. Warren was a man of goodconnexions, and some education, but of no fortune whatever, who had goneinto _the_ Church--it was the church of his ancestors, one of whom hadactually been an English bishop, a century or two ago--from choice, andcontrary to the wishes of his friends. As a preacher, his success hadnever been great; but for the discharge of his duties no man stoodhigher, and no man was more respected. The living of St. Andrew's,Ravensnest, would have been poor enough, had it depended on thecontributions of the parishioners. These last gave about one hundred andfifty dollars a-year, for their share of the support of a priest. Igave another hundred, as regularly as clock-work, and had been made todo so throughout a long minority; and my grandmother and sister made upanother fifty between them. But there was a glebe of fifty acres ofcapital land, a wood-lot, and a fund of two thousand dollars atinterest; the whole proceeding from endowments made by my grandfather,during his lifetime. Altogether, the living may have been worth a clearfive hundred dollars a year, in addition to a comfortable house, hay,wood, vegetables, pasture, and some advantages in the way of smallcrops. Few country clergymen were better off than the rector of St.Andrew's, Ravensnest, and all as a consequence of the feudal andaristocratic habits of the Littlepages, though I say it, perhaps, whomight better not, in times like these.

  My letters had told me that the Rev. Mr. Warren was a widower; that Marywas his only child; that he was a _truly_ pious, not a _sham_-pious, anda really zealous clergyman; a man of purest truth, whose word wasgospel--of great simplicity and integrity of mind and character; that henever spoke evil of others, and that a complaint of this world and itshardships seldom crossed his lips. He loved his fellow-creatures, bothnaturally and on principle; mourned over the state of the diocese, andgreatly preferred piety even to high-churchism. High-churchman he was,nevertheless; though it was not a high-churchmanship that outweighed theloftier considerations of his Christian duties, and left him equallywithout opinions of his own in matters of morals, and without a properrespect, in practice, for those that he had solemnly vowed to maintain.

  His daughter was described as a sweet-tempered, arch, modest, sensible,and well-bred girl, that had received a far better education than herfather's means would have permitted him to bestow, through theliberality and affection of a widowed sister of her mother's, who wasaffluent, and had caused her to attend the same school as that to whichshe had sent her own daughters. In a word, she was a most charmingneighbour; and her presence at Ravensnest had rendered Martha's annualvisits to the "old house" (built in 1785) not only less irksome, butactually pleasant. Such had been my sister's account of the Warrens andtheir qualities, throughout a correspondence of five years. I have evenfancied that she loved this Mary Warren better than she loved any of heruncle's wards, herself of course excepted.

  The foregoing flashed through my mind, the instant the clergymanannounced himself; but the coincidence of our being on the way to thesame part of the country, seemed to strike him as forcibly as it didmyself. What Mary thought of the matter, I had no means of ascertaining.

  "This is singular enough," resumed Mr. Warren. "What has directed yoursteps towards Ravensnest?"

  "Dey tell mine ooncle 'tis goot place to sell moch vatch."

  "You have an uncle, then? Ah! I see him there in the street, showing awatch at this moment to a gentleman. Is your uncle a linguist, too, andhas he been as well educated as you seem to be yourself?"

  "Certain--he moch more of a shentleman dan ast de shentleman to whom henow sell vatch."

  "These must be the very persons," put in Mary, a little eagerly, "ofwhom Mr. Newcome spoke, as the"--the dear girl did not like to saypedlars, after what I had told them of my origin; so she added--"dealersin watches and trinkets, who intended to visit our part of the country."

  "You are right, my dear, and the whole matter is now clear. Mr. Newcomesaid he expected them to join us at Troy, when we should proceed in thetrain together as far as Saratoga. But here comes Opportunity herself,and her brother cannot be far off."

  At that moment, sure enough, my old acquaintance, Opportunity Newcome,came into the room, a public parlour, with an air of greatself-satisfaction, and a _nonchalance_ of manner that was not a littlemore peculiar to herself than it is to most of her caste. I trembled formy disguise, since, to be quite frank on a very delicate subject,Opportunity had made so very dead a set at me--"setting a cap" is but apitiful phrase to express the assault I had to withstand--as scarcely toleave a hope that her feminine instinct, increased and stimulated withthe wish to be mistress of the Nest house, could possibly overlook thethousand and one personal peculiarities that must still remain aboutone, whose personal peculiarities she had made her particular study.