University of Virginia Library

PREFACE.

This book has not been written without many
misgivings as to its probable reception. To
carry one and the same character through five
several works would seem to be a wilful overdrawing
on the good-nature of the public, and
many persons may very reasonably suppose
it an act, of itself, that ought to invite a rebuke.
To this natural objection, the author can only
say that, if he has committed a grave fault on
this occasion, his readers are in some measure
answerable for it. The favourable manner in
which the more advanced career, and the death,
of Leather Stocking, were received, has created,
in the mind of the author at least, a sort
of necessity for giving some account of his
younger days. In short, the pictures of his
life, such as they are, were already so complete
as to excite some little desire to see the `study,'
from which they have all been drawn.

“The Leather-Stocking Tales,” now form
something like a drama in five acts; complete as
to material and design, though quite probably
very incomplete as to execution. Such as they
are, the reading world has them before it. The
author hopes, should it decide that this particular
act, the last in execution, though the
first in the order of perusal, is not the best
of the series, it will also come to the conclusion
that it is not absolutely the worst. More than
once, he has been tempted to burn his manuscript,
and to turn to some other subject, though
he has met with an encouragement, in the
course of his labours, of a character so singular,
as to be worth mentioning. An anonymous letter
from England has reached him, written, as
he thinks, by a lady, in which he is urged to do
almost the very thing he had already more than
half executed; a request that he has been willing
enough to construe into a sign that his attempt
will be partially forgiven, if not altogether
commended.

Little need be said concerning the characters
and scenery of this tale. The former are fictitious,
as a matter of course; but the latter is

as true to nature as an intimate knowledge of
the present appearance of the region described,
and such probable conjectures concerning its
ancient state as could be furnished by the imagination,
enabled the writer to render it. The
lake, mountains, valley and forests, are all believed
to be sufficiently exact; while the river,
rock and shoal are faithful transcripts from nature.
Even the points exist, a little altered by
civilization, but so nearly answering to the descriptions,
as to be easily recognized by all who
are familiar with the scenery of the particular
region in question.

As to the accuracy of the incidents of this
tale, in whole or in part, it is the intention of
the author to stand on his rights, and say no
more than he deems to be necessary. In the
great struggle for veracity that is carrying on
between History and Fiction, the latter has so
often the best of it, that he is quite willing to
refer the reader to his own researches, by way
of settling this particular point. Should it appear,
on inquiry, that any professed historian,
the public documents, or even the local traditions,
contradict the statements of this book, the

writer is ready to admit that the circumstance
has entirely escaped his observation, and to confess
his ignorance. On the other hand, should it
be found that the annals of America do not contain
a syllable in opposition to what has been
now laid before the world, as he firmly believes
investigation will show to be the case, he shall
claim for his legend just as much authority as
it deserves.

There is a respectable class of novel-readers
—respectable for numbers, quite as much as for
every thing else—who have often been likened
to the man that “sings when he reads, and
reads when he sings.” These persons are exceedingly
imaginative in all matters of fact, and
as literal as a school-boy's translation, in every
thing that relates to poetry. For the benefit
of all such persons, it is explicitly stated, that
Judith Hutter is Judith Hutter, and not Judith
any one else; and, generally, that wherever a
coincidence may occur in a christian name, or
in the colour of hair, nothing more is meant
than can properly be inferred from a coincidence
in a christian name, or in the colour of hair.
Long experience has taught the writer that this

portion of his readers is much the most difficult
to please; and he would respectfully suggest,
for the benefit of both parties, that they try the
experiment of reading works of the imagination
as if they were intended for matters of fact.
Such a plan might possibly enable them to believe
in the possibility of fiction.

There is another class of readers—less important
certainly, in a republican country, inas-much
as it is materially in the minority—which
is addicted to taking things as they are offered,
and of understanding them as they are meant.
These persons are advised to commence at
chapter first, and to read consecutively, just as
far as the occupation may prove agreeable to
themselves, and not a page beyond it. Should
any of this class reach the end of the book,
and fancy the time spent in the perusal not entirely
thrown away, the circumstance will afford
its author sincere gratification.