Littlepage Manuscripts: Satanstoe, The Chainbearer & The Redskins (Complete Edition). James Fenimore Cooper
means of inquiries, more or less direct, sought to advance his ends through conjectures; taking those that were the most plausible, if any such could be found, but putting up with those that had not even this questionable recommendation, if nothing better offered. He was, consequently, for ever falling into the grossest errors, for, necessarily making his conclusions on premises drawn from his own ignorance and inexperience, he was liable to fall into serious mistakes at the very outset. Nor was this the worst; the tendency of human nature not being very directly to charity, the harshest constructions were sometimes blended with the most absurd blunders, in his mind, and I have known him to be often guilty of assertions, that had no better foundation than these conjectures, which might have subjected him to severe legal penalties.
On the present occasion, Jason was not long in ascertaining where we were bound. This was done in a manner so characteristic and ingenious, that I will attempt to relate it.
“Why, you’re out early, this morning, gentlemen,” exclaimed Jason, affecting surprise. “What in natur’ has started you off before breakfast?”
“So as to be certain not to lose our suppers at Satanstoe, this evening,” I answered.
“Suppers? why, you will almost reach home (Jason would call this word hum) by dinner-time; that is, your York dinner-time. Perhaps you mean to call by the way?”
“Perhaps we do, Mr. Newcorne; there are many pleasant families between this and Satanstoe.”
“I know there be. There’s the great Mr. Van Cortlandt’s at Yonker’s; perhaps you mean to stop there?”
“No, sir; we have no such intention.”
“Then there’s the rich Count Philips’s, on the river; that would be no great matter out of the way?”
“It’s farther than we intend to turn.”
“Oh! so you do intend to turn a bit aside! Well, there’s that Mr. Mordaunt, whose daughter you pulled out of the lion’s paws;—he has a house near King’s-Bridge, called Lilacsbush.”
“And how did you ascertain that, Jason?”
“By asking. Do you think I would let such a thing happen, and not inquire a little about the young lady? Nothing is ever lost by putting a few questions, and inquiring round; and I did not forget the rule in her case.”
“And you ascertained that the young lady’s father has a place called Lilacsbush, in this neighbourhood?”
“I did; and a queer York fashion it is to give a house a name, just as you would a Christian being; that must be a Roman Catholic custom, and some way connected with idolatry.”
“Out of all doubt. It is far better to say, for instance, that we are going to breakfast at Mr. Mordaunt’s-es-es, than to say we intend to stop at Lilacsbush.”
“Oh! you be, be you? Well, I thought it would turn out that some such place must have started you off so early. It will be a desperate late breakfast, Corny!”
“It will be at ten o’oclock, Jason, and that is rather later than common; but our appetites will be so much the better.”
To this Jason assented, and then commenced a series of manoeuvres to be included in the party. This we did not dare to do, however, and all Jason’s hints were disregarded, until, growing desperate by our evasions, he plumply proposed to go along, and we as plumply told him we would take no such liberty with a man of Herman Mordaunt’s years, position and character. I do not know that we should have hesitated so much had we considered Jason a gentleman, but this was impossible. The custom of the colony admitted of great freedom in this respect, being very different from what it is at home, by all accounts, in these particulars; but there was always an understanding that the persons one brought with him should be of a certain stamp and class in life; recommendations to which Jason Newcome certainly had no claim.
The case was getting to be a little embarrassing, when the appearance of Herman Mordaunt himself, fortunately removed the difficulty. Jason was not a man to be thrown off very easily; but here was one who had the power, and who showed the disposition to set things right. Herman Mordaunt had ridden down the road a mile or two to meet us, intending to lead us by a private and shorter way to his residence, than that which was already known to us. He no sooner saw that Jason was of our company, than he asked that as a favour, which our companion would very gladly have accepted as a boon.
Chapter IX
“I question’d Love, whose early ray
So heavenly bright appears;
And love, in answer, seem’d to say,
His light was dimm’d by tears.”
—Heber
It was not long after the explanation occurred, as respects Jason, and the invitation was given to include him in our party, before Herman Mordaunt opened a gate, and led the way into the fields. A very tolerable road conducted us through some woods, to the heights, and we soon found ourselves on an eminence, that overlooked a long reach of the Hudson, extending from Haverstraw, to the north, as far as Staten Island, to the south; a distance of near forty miles. On the opposite shore, rose the wall-like barrier of the Palisadoes, lifting the table-land, on their summits, to an elevation of several hundred feet. The noble river, itself, fully three-quarters of a mile in width, was unruffled by a breath of air, lying in one single, extended, placid sheet, under the rays of a bright sun, resembling molten silver. I scarce remember a lovelier morning; everything appearing to harmonize with the glorious but tranquil grandeur of the view, and the rich promises of a bountiful nature. The trees were mostly covered with the beautiful clothing of a young verdure; the birds had mated, and were building in nearly every tree; the wild-flowers started up beneath the hoofs of our horses; and every object, far and near, seemed, to my young eyes, to be attuned to harmony and love.
“This is a favourite ride of mine, in which Anneke often accompanies me,” said Herman Mordaunt, as we gained the commanding eminence I have mentioned. “My daughter is a spirited horse-woman, and is often my companion in these morning rides. She and Mary Wallace should be somewhere on the hills, at this moment, for they promised to follow me, as soon as they could dress for the saddle.”
A cry of something like wild delight burst out of Dirck, and the next moment he was galloping away for an adjoining ridge, on the top of which the beautiful forms of the two girls were just then visible; embellished by neatly-fitting habits, and beavers with drooping feathers. I pointed out these charming objects to Herman Mordaunt, and followed my friend, at half-speed. In a minute or two the parties had joined.
Never had I seen Anneke Mordaunt so perfectly lovely, as she appeared that morning. The exercise and air had deepened a bloom that was always rich; and her eyes received new lustre from the glow on her cheeks. Though expected, I thought she received us as particularly acceptable guests; while Mary Wallace manifested more than an usual degree of animation, in her reception. Jason was not forgotten, but was acknowledged as an old acquaintance, and was properly introduced to the friend.
“You frequently take these rides, Mr. Mordaunt tells me,” I said, reining my horse to the side of that of Anneke’s, as the whole party moved on; “and I regret that Satanstoe is so distant, as to prevent our oftener meeting of a morning. We have many noted horse-women, in Westchester, who would be proud of such an acquisition.”
“I know several ladies, on your side of Harlem river” Anneke answered, “and frequently ride in their company; but none so distant as any in your immediate neighbourhood. My father tells me, he used often to shoot over the fields of Satanstoe, when a youth; and still speaks of your birds with great affection.”
“I believe our fathers were once brother-sportsmen. Mr. Bulstrode has promised to come and imitate their good example. Now you have had time to reflect