James Fenimore Cooper (b. 1789, d. 1851).  This celebrated American novelist was born in Burlington, N.J.  His father removed to the state of New York about 1790, and founded Cooperstown, on Otsego Lake.  He studied three years at Yale, and then entered the navy as a common sailor.  He became a midshipman in 1806, and was afterwards promoted to the rank of lieutenant; but he left the service in 1811.  His first novel, “Precaution,” was published in 1819; his best work, “The Spy,” a tale of the Revolutionary War, in 1821.  The success of “The Spy” was almost unprecedented, and its author at once took rank among the most popular writers of the day.  “The Pilot” and “The Red Rover” are considered his best sea novels.  “The Pioneers,” “The Last of the Mohicans,” “The Prairie,” “The Pathfinder,” and “The Deerslayer” are among the best of his tales of frontier life.  The best of his novels have been translated into nearly all of the European languages, and into some of those of Asia.  “The creations of his genius,” says Bryant, “shall survive through centuries to come, and only perish with our language.”  The following selection is from “The Pilot.”

1.  The ship which the American frigate had now to oppose, was a vessel of near her own size and equipage; and when Griffith looked at her again, he perceived that she had made her preparations to assert her equality in manful fight.

2.  Her sails had been gradually reduced to the usual quantity, and, by certain movements on her decks, the lieutenant and his constant attendant, the Pilot, well understood that she only wanted to lessen the distance a few hundred yards to begin the action.

“Now spread everything,” whispered the stranger.

3.  Griffith applied the trumpet to his mouth, and shouted, in a voice that was carried even to his enemy, “Let fall—­out with your booms—­sheet home—­hoist away of everything!”

4.  The inspiring cry was answered by a universal bustle.  Fifty men flew out on the dizzy heights of the different spars, while broad sheets of canvas rose as suddenly along the masts, as if some mighty bird were spreading its wings.  The Englishman instantly perceived his mistake, and he answered the artifice by a roar of artillery.  Griffith watched the effects of the broadside with an absorbing interest as the shot whistled above his head; but when he perceived his masts untouched, and the few unimportant ropes, only, that were cut, he replied to the uproar with a burst of pleasure.

5.  A few men were, however, seen clinging with wild frenzy to the cordage, dropping from rope to rope, like wounded birds fluttering through a tree, until they fell heavily into the ocean, the sullen ship sweeping by them in a cold indifference.  At the next instant, the spars and masts of their enemy exhibited a display of men similar to their own, when Griffith again placed the trumpet to his mouth, and shouted aloud, “Give it to them; drive them from their yards, boys; scatter them with your grape; unreeve their rigging!”