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
Here uncle Ro laughed so much like himself, when he ought clearly to
have laughed in broken English, that I was very much afraid he might
give the alarm to our companion; but he did not. From that time, the
best relations existed between us and Seneca, who, in the course of the
day, recognised us by sundry smiles and winks, though I could plainly
see he did not like the anti-aristocratic principle sufficiently to wish
to seem too intimate with us. Before we reached the islands, however, he
gave us directions where to meet him in the morning, and we parted, when
the boat stopped alongside of the pier at Albany that afternoon, the
best friends in the world.
"Albany! dear, good old Albany!" exclaimed my uncle Ro, as we stopped on
the draw of the bridge to look at the busy scene in the basin, where
literally hundreds of canal-boats were either lying to discharge or to
load, 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 you
are; and, though I miss your quaint old Dutch church, and your
rustic-looking old _English_ church from the centre of your principal
street, almost every change _you_ make is respectable. I know nothing
that tells so much against you as changing the name of Market street by
the paltry imitation of Broadway; but, considering that a horde of
Yankees have come down upon you since the commencement of the present
century, you are lucky that the street was not called the Appian Way.
But, excellent old Albany! whom even the corruptions of politics cannot
change in the core, lying against thy hillside, and surrounded with thy
picturesque scenery, there is an air of respectability about thee that I
admire, and a quiet prosperity that I love. Yet, how changed since my
boyhood! Thy simple stoups have all vanished; thy gables are
disappearing; marble and granite are rising in thy streets, too, but
they take honest shapes, and are free from the ambition of mounting on
stilts; thy basin has changed the whole character of thy once
semi-sylvan, semi-commercial river; but it gives to thy young manhood an
appearance of abundance and thrift that promise well for thy age!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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