entertained by the well-educated Englishmen of the present day
concerning America. I supposed the inhabitants were divided into two
classes--Indians and white people; that the Indians occasionally dashed
down on New York, and scalped any woman or child (giving the preference
to children) whom they caught lingering in the outskirts after
nightfall; that the white men were either hunters or schoolmasters, and
that it was winter pretty much all the year round. The prevailing style
of architecture I took to be log-cabins.

With this delightful picture of Northern civilization in my eye, the
reader will easily understand my terror at the bare thought of being
transported to Rivermouth to school, and possibly will forgive me for
kicking over little black Sam, and otherwise misconducting myself, when
my father announced his determination to me. As for kicking little Sam--I
always did that, more or less gently, when anything went wrong with me.

My father was greatly perplexed and troubled by this unusually violent
outbreak, and especially by the real consternation which he saw written
in every line of my countenance. As little black Sam picked himself up,
my father took my hand in his and led me thoughtfully to the library.

I can see him now as he leaned back in the bamboo chair and questioned
me. He appeared strangely agitated on learning the nature of my
objections to going North, and proceeded at once to knock down all my
pine log houses, and scatter all the Indian tribes with which I had
populated the greater portion of the Eastern and Middle States.

"Who on earth, Tom, has filled your brain with such silly stories?"
asked my father, wiping the tears from his eyes.