COOPER, JAMES FENIMORE, an American novelist, born at Burlington, N. J., September 15, 1789; died at Cooperstown, N. Y., September 14, 1851. At the age of thirteen he was admitted to Yale College, and on quitting college entered the navy. In 1811 he resigned his commission, married, and settled at Westchester, N. Y. His first novel, Precaution, was a failure. The Spy, published in 1821, showed his real power, and met with great success. It was followed, in rapid succession, by The Pioneers, the first of the LeatherStocking series (1823); The Pilot (1823); Lionel Lincoln (1825); The Last of the Mohicans (1826); The Prairie (1826); The Red Rover (1827); The Wept of Wish-ton-Wish (1827); The Water-witch (1830); The Bravo (1831); Heidenmauer (1832); The Headsman of Berne (1833); The Monikins (1835); Homeward Bound and Home as Found (1838); The Pathfinder, Mercedes of Castile, and The Deerslayer (1841); The Two Admirals and Wing and Wing (1842); Wyandotte, The Autobiography of a Pocket-Handkerchief, and Ned Meyers (1843); Afloat and Ashore and Miles Wallingford (1844); The Chainbearer and Satanstoe (1845); The Redskins (1846); The Crater, or Vulcan's Peak (1847); Oak Openings and Jack Tier (1848); The Sea Lions (1849); The Ways of the Hour (1850). Besides his novels Cooper wrote A Naval History of the United States (1839); The Lives of Distinguished American Naval Officers (1846), and several volumes of notes on his travels in Europe. THE ESCAPE OF WHARTON WITH HARVEY BIRCH. The person who was ushered into the apartment, preceded by Cæsar, and followed by the matron, was a man beyond the middle age, or who might rather be said to approach the down-hill of life. In stature he was above the size of ordinary men, though his excessive leanness might contribute in deceiving as to his height; his countenance was sharp and unbending, and every muscle seemed set in rigid compression. No joy, or relaxation, appeared ever to have dwelt on features that frowned habitually, as if in detestation of the vices of mankind. The brows were beetling, dark, and forbidding, giving the promise of eyes of no less repelling expression, but the organs were concealed beneath a pair of enormous green goggles, through which they glared around with a fierceness that denounced the coming day of wrath. All was fanaticism, uncharitableness, and denunciation. Long, lank hair, a mixture of gray and black, fell down his neck, and in some degree obscured the sides of his face, and parting on his forehead, fell in either direction in straight and formal screens. On the top of this ungraceful exhibition was laid, impending forward, so as to overhang in some measure the whole fabric, a large hat of three equal cocks. His coat was of a rusty black, and his breeches and stockings were of the same color; his shoes without lustre, and half concealed beneath huge plated buckles. He stalked into the room, and giving a stiff nod with his head, took the chair offered him by the black, in dignified silence. For several minutes no one broke this ominous pause in the conversation. Henry, feeling a repugnance to his guest that he was vainly endeavoring to conquer, and the stranger himself drawing forth occasional sighs and groans, that threatened a dissolution of the unequal connection between his sublimated soul and its ungainly tenement. During this death-like preparation, Mr. Wharton, with a feeling nearly allied to that of his son, led Sarah from the apartment. His retreat VOL. VI.-26. was noticed by the divine, in a kind of scornful disdain, who began to hum the air of a popular psalm-tune, giving it the full richness of the twang that distinguishes the Eastern psalmody. "Cæsar," said Miss Peyton, "hand the gentleman some refreshment; he must need it after his ride." "My strength is not in the things of this life," said the divine, speaking in a hollow, sepulchral voice. "Thrice have I this day held forth in my Master's service, and fainted not; still it is prudent to help this frail tenement of clay, for, surely, the laborer is worthy of his hire.' Opening a pair of enormous jaws, he took a good measure of the proffered brandy, and suffered it to glide downwards with that sort of facility with which man is prone to sin. "I apprehend, then, sir, that fatigue will disable you from performing the duties which kindness had induced you to attempt." "Woman!" exclaimed the stranger with energy, "when was I ever known to shrink from a duty? But, 'judge not, lest ye be judged,' and fancy not that it is given to mortal eyes to fathom the intentions of the Deity." "Nay," returned the maiden, meekly, and slightly disgusted with his jargon, “I pretend not to judge of either events or the intentions of my fellow-creatures, much less of those of Omnipotence." ""Tis well, woman, 'tis well," cried the minister, waving his hand with supercilious disdain; "humility becometh thy sex and lost condition; thy weakness driveth thee on headlong, like 'unto the besom of destruction.'' Surprised at this extraordinary deportment, yielding to that habit which urges us to speak reverently on sacred subjects, even when perhaps we had better continue silent, Miss Peyton replied "There is a Power above, that can and will sustain us all in well-doing, if we seek its support in humility and truth." The stranger turned a lowering look at the speaker, and then composing himself into an air of self-abasement, he continued in the same repelling tones— |