six first books of Milton, and two of
Shakespeare's plays; along the wall, trunks instead of closets; in the
centre of the room a rude table, with legs of green wood, and with the
bark still upon them, looking as if they grew out of the ground on which
they stood; but on this table a tea-pot of British ware, silver spoons,
cracked tea-cups, and some newspapers.

"The master of this dwelling has the strong angular features and lank
limbs peculiar to the native of New England. It is evident that this man
was not born in the solitude in which we have met with him: his physical
constitution suffices to show that his earlier years were spent in
the midst of civilized society, and that he belongs to that restless,
calculating, and adventurous race of men, who do with the utmost
coolness things only to be accounted for by the ardor of the passions,
and who endure the life of savages for a time, in order to conquer and
civilize the backwoods.

"When the pioneer perceived that we were crossing his threshold, he came
to meet us and shake hands, as is their custom; but his face was quite
unmoved; he opened the conversation by inquiring what was going on in
the world; and when his curiosity was satisfied, he held his peace,
as if he were tired by the noise and importunity of mankind. When we
questioned him in our turn, he gave us all the information we required;
he then attended sedulously, but without eagerness, to our personal
wants. Whilst he was engaged in providing thus kindly for us, how came
it that in spit of ourselves we felt our gratitude die upon our lips? It
is that our host whilst he performs the duties of hospitality, seems to
be obeying an irksome necessity of his condition: he treats it as a duty
imposed upon him by his situation, not as a pleasure. By the side of
the hearth sits a woman with a baby on her lap: she nods to us without
disturbing herself. Like the pioneer, this woman is in the prime of
life; her appearance would seem superior to her condition, and her
apparel even betrays a lingering taste for dress; but her delicate
limbs appear shrunken, her features are drawn in, her eye is mild and
melancholy; her whole physiognomy bears marks of a degree of religious
resignation, a deep quiet of all passions, and some sort of natural and
tranquil firmness, ready to meet all the ills of life, without fearing
and without braving them. Her children cluster about her, full
of health, turbulence, and energy: they are