"
"Tell me your names," added Hetty, looking up at him artlessly,
"and, maybe, I'll tell you your character."
"There is some truth in that, I'll not deny, though it often fails.
Men are deceived in other men's characters, and frequently give
'em names they by no means desarve. You can see the truth of this
in the Mingo names, which, in their own tongue, signify the same
things as the Delaware names,- at least, so they tell me, for I know
little of that tribe, unless it be by report,- and no one can say
they are as honest or as upright a nation. I put no great dependence,
therefore, on names."
"Tell me all your names," repeated the girl, earnestly, for her
mind was too simple to separate things from professions, and she
did attach importance to a name; "I want to know what to think of
you."
"Well, sartain; I've no objection, and you shall hear them all.
In the first place, then, I'm Christian, and white-born, like
yourself, and my parents had a name that came down from father to
son, as is a part of their gifts. My father was called Bumppo; and
I was named after him, of course, the given name being Nathaniel,
or Natty, as most people saw fit to tarm it."
"Yes, yes - Natty - and Hetty" interrupted the girl quickly, and
looking up from her work again, with a smile: "you are Natty, and
I'm Hetty-though you are Bumppo, and I'm Hutter.
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