nd in his congenial
element: he is the swan on the lake, the eagle in the air, the deer in the
woods. The escape of the frigate, in the fifth chapter of "The Pilot," is
a well-known passage of this kind; and nothing can be finer. The technical
skill, the poetical feeling, the rapidity of the narrative, the
distinctness of the details, the vividness of the coloring, the life,
power, and animation which breathe and burn in every line, make up a
combination of the highest order of literary merit. It is as good a
sea-piece as the best of Turner's; and we cannot give it higher praise. We
hear the whistling of the wind through the rigging, and the roar of the
pitiless sea, bellowing for its prey; we see the white caps of the waves
flashing with spectral light through the darkness, and the gallant ship
whirled along like a bubble by the irresistible current; we hold our
breath as we read of the expedients and manoeuvres which most of us but
half understand, and heave a long sigh of relief when the danger is past,
and the ship reaches the open sea. A similar passage, though of more quiet
and gentler beauty, is the description of the deer-chase on the lake, in
the twenty-seventh chapter of "The Pioneers." Indeed, this whole novel is
full of the finest expressions of the author's genius. Into none of his
works has he put more of the warmth of personal feeling and the glow of
early recollection. His own heart beats through every line. The fresh
breezes of the morning of life play round its pages, and its unexhaled dew
hangs upon them. It is colored throughout with the rich hues of
sympathetic emotion. All that is attractive in pioneer life is reproduced
with substantial truth; but the pictures are touched with those finer
lights which time pours over the memories of childhood. With what spirit
and power all the characteristic incidents and scenes of a new settlement
are described,--pigeon-shooting, bass-fishing, deer-hunting, the making of
maple-sugar, the turkey-shooting at Christmas, the sleighing-parties in
winter! How distinctly his landscapes are painted,--the deep, impenetrable
forest, the gleaming lake, the crude aspect and absurd architecture of the
new-born village! How full of poetry in the ore is the conversation of
Leatherstocking! The incongruities and peculiarities of social life which
are the result of a sudden rush of population into the wilderness are also
well sketched; though with a pencil less free and vivid than