Home as Found by James Fenimore Cooper (books to read as a couple .TXT) 📖

or of disapprobation, of the fruits of his cousin's genius.

"Mr. John Effingham has considerably regenerated and revivified, not to say transmogrified, the old dwelling," he said, cautiously using terms that might have his own opinion of the changes doubtful. "The work of his hand has excited some speculation, a good deal of inquiry, and a little conversation, throughout the country. It has almost produced an excitement!"

"As my house came to me from my father," said Mr. Effingham, across whose mild and handsome face a smile was gradually stealing, "I knew its history, and when called on for an explanation of its singularities, could refer all to the composite order. But, you, Jack, have supplanted all this, by a style of your own, for which I shall be compelled to consult the authorities for explanations."

"Do you dislike my taste, Ned?--To my eye, now, the structure has no bad appearance from this spot!"

"Fitness and comfort are indispensable requisites for domestic architecture, to use your own argument. Are you quite sure that yonder castellated roof, for instance, is quite suited to the deep snows of these mountains?"

John Effingham whistled, and endeavoured to look unconcerned, for he well knew that the very first winter had demonstrated the unsuitableness of his plans for such a climate. He had actually felt disposed to cause the whole to be altered privately, at his own expense; but, besides feeling certain his cousin would resent a liberty that inferred his indisposition to pay for his own buildings, he had a reluctance to admit, in the face of the whole country, that he had made so capital a mistake, in a branch of art in which he prided himself rather more than common; almost as much as his predecessor in the occupation, Mr. Richard Jones.

"If you are not pleased with your own dwelling, Ned," he answered, "you can have, at least, the consolation of looking at some of your neighbours' houses, and of perceiving that they are a great deal worse off. Of all abortions of this sort, to my taste, a Grecian abortion is the worst--mine is only Gothic, and that too, in a style so modest, that I should think it might pass unmolested."

It was so unusual to see John Effingham on the defensive, that the whole party smiled, while Aristabulus who stood in salutary fear of his caustic tongue, both smiled and wondered.

"Nay, do not mistake me, John," returned the proprietor of the edifice under discussion--"it is not your taste that I call in question, but your provision against the seasons. In the way of mere outward show, I really think you deserve high praise, for you have transformed a very ugly dwelling into one that is almost handsome, in despite of proportions and the necessity of regulating the alterations by prescribed limits. Still, I think, there is a little of the composite left about even the exterior."

"I hope, cousin Jack, you have not innovated on the interior," cried Eve; "for I think I shall remember that, and nothing is more pleasant than the cattism of seeing objects that you remember in childhood-- pleasant, I mean, to those whom the mania of mutation has not affected."

"Do not be alarmed, Miss Effingham," replied her kinsman, with a pettishness of manner that was altogether extraordinary, in a man whose mien, in common, was so singularly composed and masculine; "you will find all that you knew, when a kitten, in its proper place. I could not rake together, again, the ashes of Queen Dido, which were scattered to the four winds of Heaven, I fear; nor could I discover a reasonably good bust of Homer; but respectable substitutes are provided, and some of them have the great merit of puzzling all beholders to tell to whom they belong, which I believe was the great characteristic of most of Mr. Jones's invention."

"I am glad to see, cousin Jack, that you have, at least, managed to give a very respectable 'cloud-colour' to the whole house."

"Ay, it lay between that and an invisible green," the gentleman answered, losing his momentary spleen in his natural love of the ludicrous--"but finding that the latter would be only too conspicuous in the droughts that sometimes prevail in this climate, I settled down into the yellowish drab, that is, indeed, not unlike some of the richer volumes of the clouds."

"On the whole, I think you are fairly entitled, as Steadfast Dodge, Esquire, would say, to 'the meed of our thanks.'"

"What a lovely spot!" exclaimed Mr. Effingham, who had already ceased to think of his own dwelling, and whose eye was roaming over the soft landscape, athwart which the lustre of a June noontide was throwing its richest glories. "This is truly a place where one might fancy repose and content were to be found for the evening of a troubled life."

"Indeed, I have seldom looked upon a more bewitching scene," answered the baronet. "The lakes of Cumberland will scarce compete with this!"

"Or that of Brienz, or Lungeren, or Nemi," said Eve, smiling in a way that the other understood to be a hit at his nationality.

" C'est charmant! " murmured Mademoiselle Viefville. " On pense à l'éternité, dans une telle calme! "

"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 à 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.