[The Prairie by J. Fenimore Cooper]@TWC D-Link book
The Prairie

CHAPTER II
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"I hope you ar' better off for skins." [*] The cant word for luggage in the western states of America is "plunder." The term might easily mislead one as to the character of the people, who, notwithstanding their pleasant use of so expressive a word, are, like the inhabitants of all new settlements, hospitable and honest.

Knavery of the description conveyed by "plunder," is chiefly found in regions more civilised.
"I make but little use of either," the trapper quietly replied.

"At my time of life, food and clothing be all that is needed; and I have little occasion for what you call plunder, unless it may be, now and then, to barter for a horn of powder, or a bar of lead." "You ar' not, then, of these parts by natur', friend," the emigrant continued, having in his mind the exception which the other had taken to the very equivocal word, which he himself, according to the custom of the country, had used for "baggage," or "effects." "I was born on the sea-shore, though most of my life has been passed in the woods." The whole party now looked up at him, as men are apt to turn their eyes on some unexpected object of general interest.

One or two of the young men repeated the words "sea-shore" and the woman tendered him one of those civilities with which, uncouth as they were, she was little accustomed to grace her hospitality, as if in deference to the travelled dignity of her guest.

After a long, and, seemingly, a meditating silence, the emigrant, who had, however, seen no apparent necessity to suspend the functions of his masticating powers, resumed the discourse.
"It is a long road, as I have heard, from the waters of the west to the shores of the main sea ?" "It is a weary path, indeed, friend; and much have I seen, and something have I suffered, in journeying over it." "A man would see a good deal of hard travel in going its length!" "Seventy and five years have I been upon the road; and there are not half that number of leagues in the whole distance, after you leave the Hudson, on which I have not tasted venison of my own killing.


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