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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Deerslayer"

"
"My ears are open," returned the Delaware gravely; "the words of
my brother have entered so far that they never can fall out again.
They are like rings, that have no end, and cannot drop. Let him
speak on; the song of the wren and the voice of a friend never
tire."
"I will speak a little longer, chief, but you will excuse it for
the sake of old companionship, should I now talk about myself.
If the worst comes to the worst, it's not likely there'll be much
left of me but ashes, so a grave would be useless, and a sort of
vanity. On that score I'm no way partic'lar, though it might be
well enough to take a look at the remains of the pile, and should
any bones, or pieces be found, 'twould be more decent to gather
them together, and bury them, than to let them lie for the wolves
to gnaw at, and howl over. These matters can make no great difference
in the mind, but men of white blood and Christian feelin's have
rather a gift for graves."
"It shall be done as my brother says," returned the Indian, gravely.
"If his mind is full, let him empty it in the bosom of a friend."
"I thank you, Sarpent; my mind's easy enough; yes, it's tolerable
easy. Idees will come uppermost that I'm not apt to think about
in common, it's true, but by striving ag'in some, and lettin' other
some out, all will come right in the long run.


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