Such were the lessons young Cooper learned in this rough but manly school.  A brother officer who knew him well said, “He was active, prompt, and efficient, a pleasant shipmate, always ready to do his duty, and rigorous too in exacting it of others.”  Of Cooper’s “Naval History” was added, “It is the noblest tribute ever paid to a noble profession.”  Aboard the Stirling on these several cruises Cooper learned much that afterwards appeared in his sea tales.  It was of this sea-service that he wrote, “I have been myself one of eleven hands, officers included, to navigate a ship of three hundred tons across the Atlantic Ocean; and, what is more, we often reefed topsails with the watch.”  Of the Stirling he wrote, “The ship was on a bow-line most of the time”; and he thought her “one of the wettest ships that ever floated when heading tip against the sea.”  A lively account of this eleven months’ service is found in Cooper’s story of “Ned Myers.”  This life of his shipmate aboard the Stirling was written in 1843.  The old salt was a battered hulk in the “Sailor’s Snug Harbor” when Cooper was on the crest of the wave of his literary fame, and the old sailor, wondering if this Cooper could be the comrade of his youth in the Stirling days of yore, wrote, after the twenty-five years of separation, to inquire.  The answer was, “I am your old shipmate, Ned.”  Later, “Ned” was invited to visit the Hall.  Many remember the interesting two in 1843.  “Hardly a day passed that they were not seen, as the heavy Hall gates swung open at eleven o’clock, coming out for a morning walk or a sail on the lake;—­Cooper’s portly form, and by his side a shriveled figure with halting step, leaning heavily on a crooked stick which served for a cane.  They were as strong in contrast as it was possible for men to be.”  It was during this visit that the old sailor spun his life-yarn in his own way and Cooper wove it into his book, “Ned Myers.”

[Illustration:  SAILOR’S SNUG HARBOR.]

Perhaps the following interesting Cooperstown story of Cooper’s youth is of the time of his return from his Stirling voyage.  One day a merry group of young men proposed a footrace, the course to be around the square—­a distance of about one hundred yards.  James Cooper was named as one of the runners, and his rival was soon chosen.  According to custom, the village boys, girls, men, and women were spectators.  Like a mettlesome steed in curb young Cooper looked at the wager,—­a basket of fruit,—­then at his race-mate, and accepted the challenge, but not on even terms.  It was not enough for a sailor simply to outrun a landsman; he could do more.  A little girl stood near, her bright face eager with watching for the fray.  Cooper turned quickly and caught her up in his arms, and with the pride and muscle of an athlete exclaimed, “I’ll carry her with me and beat you!” Away they flew, Cooper with his laughing burden upon his shoulders; one corner was turned, and the excited