was on fire.”  The Chalet brought to the author’s mind “Wyandotte,” or “The Hutted Knoll,” a tale of border-life during the colonial period.  A family of that time forces from the wilderness an affluent frontier home and settlement for its successors.  In “Sassy Dick” the idle and fallen Indian is pathetically portrayed:  Dick’s return to the dignity of Wyandotte, the Indian chief, by reason of the red-man’s fierce instincts, is a pen-picture strong in contrasts, illustrating how “he never forgot a favor nor forgave an injury.”  This story and that of Ned Myers were published in 1843.

[Illustration:  THE ESCAPE—­FROM “WYANDOTTE”]

Of these years there are records of Cooper’s kindly love for little folk.  Miss Caroline A. Foot, a schoolgirl of thirteen and a frequent visitor at Otsego Hall, had always a warm welcome from Mr. Cooper and his family.  When she was about to leave her Cooperstown home for another elsewhere, “she made bold to enter his sanctum, carrying her album in her hand and asking him to write a verse or two in the same.”  Those verses have been treasured many years by that little girl, who became Mrs. George Pomeroy Keese.  Two of her treasured verses are: 

    TO CAROLINE A. FOOT

    But now, dear Cally, comes the hour
      When triumph crowns thy will,
    Submissive to thy winning power
      I seize the recreant quill: 
    Indite these lines to bless thy days
    And sing my peans in thy praise.

In after life when thou shalt grow
To womanhood, and learn to feel
The tenderness the aged know
To guide their children’s weal,
Then wilt thou bless with bended knee
Some smiling child as I bless thee.

J. FENIMORE COOPER. 
Otsego Hall, August, 1843.

[Illustration:  Miss CAROLINE ADRIANCE FOOT, AGE 13.]

The delight of the winsome little lady was great, not only for the loving sentiment but also for the autograph, which is now both rare and valuable.  Not long after the capture of her verses a copy of them was sent to her friend Julia Bryant, daughter of Mr. Cooper’s friend, the poet.  Miss Julia wrote at once in reply that she never would be happy until she too had some lines over the same autograph.  An immediate request was made of Mr. Cooper at his desk in the old Hall library, and with “dear Cally” by his side, he wrote: 

Charming young lady, Miss Julia by name,
Your friend, little Cally, your wishes proclaim;
Read this and you’ll soon learn to know it,
I’m not your papa the great lyric poet.

J. FENIMORE COOPER.