The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Monikins, by J. Fenimore Cooper

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

Title: The Monikins

Author: J. Fenimore Cooper

Release Date: May, 2003 [Etext #4092]
Posting Date: January 9, 2010

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MONIKINS ***

Produced by Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team

THE MONIKINS

By J. Fenimore Cooper

INTRODUCTION.

It is not improbable that some of those who read this book, may feel a
wish to know in what manner I became possessed of the manuscript. Such
a desire is too just and natural to be thwarted, and the tale shall be
told as briefly as possible.

During the summer of 1828, while travelling among those valleys of
Switzerland which lie between the two great ranges of the Alps, and in
which both the Rhone and the Rhine take their rise, I had passed from
the sources of the latter to those of the former river, and had reached
that basin in the mountains that is so celebrated for containing the
glacier of the Rhone, when chance gave me one of those rare moments
of sublimity and solitude, which are the more precious in the other
hemisphere from their infrequency. On every side the view was bounded
by high and ragged mountains, their peaks glittering near the sun, while
directly before me, and on a level with the eye, lay that miraculous
frozen sea, out of whose drippings the Rhone starts a foaming river, to
glance away to the distant Mediterranean. For the first time, during
a pilgrimage of years, I felt alone with nature in Europe. Alas! the
enjoyment, as all such enjoyments necessarily are amid the throngs of
the old world, was short and treacherous. A party came round the angle
of a rock, along the narrow bridle-path, in single file; two ladies on
horseback, followed by as many gentlemen on foot, and preceded by the
usual guide. It was but small courtesy to rise and salute the dove-like
eyes and blooming cheeks of the former, as they passed. They were
English, and the gentlemen appeared to recognize me as a countryman. One
of the latter stopped, and politely inquired if the passage of the
Furca was obstructed by snow. He was told