The Prairie (Fiscle Part 3) Of 2 by J Fenimore Cooper (phonics reading books TXT) 📕

Peaceful Hours Of Our Out-Lyings,  Whether It Might Be On The Trail Of

A War-Party Of The Mingoes,  Or On The Watch For A York Deer. I

Remember To Have Heard It,  Then And There,  Said,  That The Blessed Land

Was Once Fertile As The Bottoms Of The Mississippi,  And Groaning With

Its Stores Of Grain And Fruits; But That The Judgment Has Since Fallen

Upon It,  And That It Is Now More Remarkable For Its Barrenness Than

Any Qualities To Boast Of."

"It Is True; But Egypt--Nay Much Of Africa Furnishes Still More

Striking Proofs Of This Exhaustion Of Nature."

"Tell Me," Interrupted The Old Man,  "Is It A Certain Truth That

Buildings Are Still Standing In That Land Of Pharaoh,  Which May Be

Likened,  In Their Stature,  To The Hills Of The 'Arth?"

"It Is As True As That Nature Never Refuses To Bestow Her Incisores On

The Animals,  Mammalia; Genus,  Homo--"

"It Is Very Marvellous! And It Proves How Great He Must Be,  When His

Miserable Creatur's Can Accomplish Such Wonders! Many Men Must Have

Been Needed To Finish Such An Edifice; Ay,  And Men Gifted With

Strength And Skill Too! Does The Land Abound With Such A Race To This

Hour?"

"Far From It. Most Of The Country Is A Desert,  And But For A Mighty

River All Would Be So."

"Yes; Rivers Are Rare Gifts To Such As Till The Ground,  As Any One May

See Who Journeys Far Atween The Rocky Mountains And The Mississippi.

But How Do You Account For These Changes On The Face Of The 'Arth

Itself,  And For This Downfall Of Nations,  You Men Of The Schools?"

"It Is To Be Ascribed To Moral Cau--"

"You're Right--It Is Their Morals; Their Wickedness And Their Pride,

And Chiefly Their Waste That Has Done It All! Now Listen To What The

Experience Of An Old Man Teaches Him. I Have Lived Long,  As These Grey

Hairs And Wrinkled Hands Will Show,  Even Though My Tongue Should Fail

In The Wisdom Of My Years. And I Have Seen Much Of The Folly Of Man;

For His Natur' Is The Same,  Be He Born In The Wilderness,  Or Be He

Born In The Towns. To My Weak Judgment It Hath Ever Seemed That His

Gifts Are Not Equal To His Wishes. That He Would Mount Into The

Heavens,  With All His Deformities About Him,  If He Only Knew The Road,

No One Will Gainsay,  That Witnesses His Bitter Strivings Upon 'Arth.

If His Power Is Not Equal To His Will,  It Is Because The Wisdom Of The

Lord Hath Set Bounds To His Evil Workings."

"It Is Much Too Certain That Certain Facts Will Warrant A Theory,

Which Teaches The Natural Depravity Of The Genus; But If Science Could

Be Fairly Brought To Bear On A Whole Species At Once,  For Instance,

Education Might Eradicate The Evil Principle."

"That,  For Your Education! The Time Has Been When I Have Thought It

Possible To Make A Companion Of A Beast. Many Are The Cubs,  And Many

Are The Speckled Fawns That I Have Reared With These Old Hands,  Until

I Have Even Fancied Them Rational And Altered Beings--But What Did It

Amount To? The Bear Would Bite,  And The Deer Would Run,

Notwithstanding My Wicked Conceit In Fancying I Could Change A Temper

That The Lord Himself Had Seen Fit To Bestow. Now If Man Is So Blinded

In His Folly As To Go On,  Ages On Ages,  Doing Harm Chiefly To Himself,

There Is The Same Reason To Think That He Has Wrought His Evil Here As

In The Countries You Call So Old. Look About You,  Man; Where Are The

Multitudes That Once Peopled These Prairies; The Kings And The

Palaces; The Riches And The Mightinesses Of This Desert?"

"Where Are The Monuments That Would Prove The Truth Of So Vague A

Theory?"

"I Know Not What You Call A Monument."

"The Works Of Man! The Glories Of Thebes And Balbec--Columns,

Catacombs,  And Pyramids! Standing Amid The Sands Of The East,  Like

Wrecks On A Rocky Shore,  To Testify To The Storms Of Ages!"

"They Are Gone. Time Has Lasted Too Long For Them. For Why? Time Was

Made By The Lord,  And They Were Made By Man. This Very Spot Of Reeds

And Grass,  On Which You Now Sit,  May Once Have Been The Garden Of Some

Mighty King. It Is The Fate Of All Things To Ripen,  And Then To Decay.

The Tree Blossoms,  And Bears Its Fruit,  Which Falls,  Rots,  Withers,

And Even The Seed Is Lost! Go,  Count The Rings Of The Oak And Of The

Sycamore; They Lie In Circles,  One About Another,  Until The Eye Is

Blinded In Striving To Make Out Their Numbers; And Yet A Full Change

Of The Seasons Comes Round While The Stem Is Winding One Of These

Little Lines About Itself,  Like The Buffaloe Changing His Coat,  Or The

Buck His Horns; And What Does It All Amount To? There Does The Noble

Tree Fill Its Place In The Forest,  Loftier,  And Grander,  And Richer,

And More Difficult To Imitate,  Than Any Of Your Pitiful Pillars,  For A

Thousand Years,  Until The Time Which The Lord Hath Given It Is Full.

Then Come The Winds,  That You Cannot See,  To Rive Its Bark; And The

Waters From The Heavens,  To Soften Its Pores; And The Rot,  Which All

Can Feel And None Can Understand,  To Humble Its Pride And Bring It To

The Ground. From That Moment Its Beauty Begins To Perish. It Lies

Another Hundred Years,  A Mouldering Log,  And Then A Mound Of Moss And

'Arth; A Sad Effigy Of A Human Grave. This Is One Of Your Genuine

Monuments,  Though Made By A Very Different Power Than Such As Belongs

To Your Chiseling Masonry! And After All,  The Cunningest Scout Of The

Whole Dahcotah Nation Might Pass His Life In Searching For The Spot

Where It Fell,  And Be No Wiser When His Eyes Grew Dim,  Than When They

Were First Opened. As If That Was Not Enough To Convince Man Of His

Ignorance; And As Though It Were Put There In Mockery Of His Conceit,

A Pine Shoots Up From The Roots Of The Oak,  Just As Barrenness Comes

After Fertility,  Or As These Wastes Have Been Spread,  Where A Garden

May Have Been Created. Tell Me Not Of Your Worlds That Are Old! It Is

Blasphemous To Set Bounds And Seasons,  In This Manner,  To The Works Of

The Almighty,  Like A Woman Counting The Ages Of Her Young."

"Friend Hunter,  Or Trapper," Returned The Naturalist,  Clearing His

Throat In Some Intellectual Confusion At The Vigorous Attack Of His

Companion,  "Your Deductions,  If Admitted By The World,  Would Sadly

Circumscribe The Efforts Of Reason,  And Much Abridge The Boundaries Of

Knowledge."

"So Much The Better--So Much The Better; For I Have Always Found That

A Conceited Man Never Knows Content. All Things Prove It. Why Have We

Not The Wings Of The Pigeon,  The Eyes Of The Eagle,  And The Legs Of

The Moose,  If It Had Been Intended That Man Should Be Equal To All His

Wishes?"

"There Are Certain Physical Defects,  Venerable Trapper,  In Which I Am

Always Ready To Admit Great And Happy Alterations Might Be Suggested.

For Example,  In My Own Order Of Phalangacru--"

"Cruel Enough Would Be The Order,  That Should Come From Miserable

Hands Like Thine! A Touch From Such A Finger Would Destroy The Mocking

Deformity Of A Monkey! Go,  Go; Human Folly Is Not Needed To Fill Up

The Great Design Of God. There Is No Stature,  No Beauty,  No

Proportions,  Nor Any Colours In Which Man Himself Can Well Be

Fashioned,  That Is Not Already Done To His Hands."

"That Is Touching Another Great And Much Disputed Question," Exclaimed

The Doctor,  Who Seized Upon Every Distinct Idea That The Ardent And

Somewhat Dogmatic Old Man Left Exposed To His Mental Grasp,  With The

Vain Hope Of Inducing A Logical Discussion,  In Which He Might Bring

His Battery Of Syllogisms To Annihilate The Unscientific Defences Of

His Antagonist.

It Is,  However,  Unnecessary To Our Narrative To Relate The Erratic

Discourse That Ensued. The Old Man Eluded The Annihilating Blows Of

His Adversary,  As The Light Armed Soldier Is Wont To Escape The

Efforts Of The More Regular Warrior,  Even While He Annoys Him Most,

And An Hour Passed Away Without Bringing Any Of The Numerous Subjects,

On Which They Touched,  To A Satisfactory Conclusion. The Arguments

Acted,  However,  On The Nervous System Of The Doctor,  Like So Many

Soothing Soporifics,  And By The Time His Aged Companion Was Disposed

To Lay His Head On His Pack,  Obed,  Refreshed By His Recent Mental

Joust,  Was In A Condition To Seek His Natural Rest,  Without Enduring

The Torments Of The Incubus,  In The Shapes Of Teton Warriors And

Bloody Tomahawks.

                                                   --Shakspeare.

The Sleep Of The Fugitives Lasted For Several Hours. The Trapper Was

The First To Shake Off Its Influence,  As He Had Been The Last To Court

Its Refreshment. Rising,  Just As The Grey Light Of Day Began To

Brighten That Portion Of The Studded Vault Which Rested On The Eastern

Margin Of The Plain,  He Summoned His Companions From Their Warm Lairs,

And Pointed Out The Necessity Of Their Being Once More On The Alert.

While Middleton Attended To The Arrangements Necessary To The Comforts

Of Inez And Ellen,  In The Long And