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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish"

A musket
thrown across his left shoulder, with the horn and pouch at his sides,
together with the little wallet at his back, proclaimed him one who had
either been engaged in a hunt, or in some short expedition of even a less
peaceable character. His dress was of the usual material and fashion of a
countryman of the age and colony, though a short broadsword, that was
thrust through a wampum belt which girded his body, might have attracted
observation. In all other respects, he had the air of an inhabitant of the
hamlet, who had found occasion to quit his abode on some affair of
pleasure or of duty, that had made no very serious demand on his time.
Whether native or stranger, few ever passed the hillock named, without
pausing to gaze at the quiet loveliness of the cluster of houses that lay
in full view from its summit. The individual mentioned loitered as usual,
but, instead of following the line of the path, his eye rather sought some
object in the direction of the fields. Moving leisurely to the nearest
fence, he threw down the upper rails of a pair of bars, and beckoned to a
horseman, who was picking his way across a broken bit of pasture land, to
enter the highway by the passage he had opened.


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