The Redskins; or, Indian and Injin, Volume 1.: Being the Conclusion of the Littlepage ManuscriptsCooper, James Fenimore
History
The Redskins; or, Indian and Injin, Volume 1.: Being the Conclusion of the Littlepage Manuscripts
Cooper, James Fenimore
Indians of North America -- Fiction; New York (State) -- History -- Colonial period, ca. 1600-1775 -- Fiction
There was no highway in the vicinity of the wigwam, for so the cabin was
generally called, though wigwam, in the strict meaning of the word, it
was not. As the little building stood in the grounds of the Nest House,
which contain two hundred acres, a bit of virgin forest included, and
exclusively of the fields that belonged to the adjacent farm, it was
approached only by foot-paths, of which several led to and from it, and
by one narrow, winding carriage-road, which, in passing for miles
through the grounds, had been led near the hut, in order to enable my
grandmother and sister, and, I dare say, my dear departed mother, while
she lived, to make their calls in their frequent airings. By this
sweeping road we approached the cabin.
"There are the two old fellows, sunning themselves this fine day!"
exclaimed my uncle, with something like tremor in his voice, as we drew
near enough to the hut to distinguish objects. "Hugh, I never see these
men without a feeling of awe, as well as of affection. They were the
friends, and one was the slave of my grandfather; and as long as I can
remember, have they been aged men! They seem to be set up here as
monuments of the past, to connect the generations that are gone with
those that are to come."
"If so, sir, they will soon be all there is of their sort. It really
seems to me that, if things continue much longer in their present
direction, men will begin to grow jealous and envious of history itself,
because its actors have left descendants to participate in any little
credit they may have gained."
"Beyond all contradiction, boy, there is a strange perversion of the old
and natural sentiments on this head among us. But you must bear in mind
the fact, that of the two millions and a half the State contains, not
half a million, probably, possess any of the true York blood, and can
consequently feel any of the sentiments connected with the birth-place
and the older traditions of the very society in which they live. A great
deal must be attributed to the facts of our condition; though I admit
those facts need not, and ought not to unsettle principles. But look at
those two old fellows! There they are, true to the feelings and habits
of their races, even after passing so long a time together in this hut.
There squats Susquesus on a stone, idle and disdaining work, with his
rifle leaning against the apple-tree; while Jaaf--or Yop, as I believe
it is better to call him--is pecking about in the garden, still a slave
at his work, in fancy at least."
"And which is the happiest, sir--the industrious old man or the idler?"
"Probably each finds most happiness in indulging his own early habits.
The Onondago never _would_ work, however, and I have heard my father
say, great was his happiness when he found he was to pass the remainder
of his days in _otium cum dignitate_, and without the necessity of
making baskets."
"Yop is looking at us; had we not better go up at once and speak to
them?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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