scene of some of his best stories. In 1811 he married, resigned
from the Navy, and settled upon a little estate in Westchester
County, near New York. Until the age of thirty, he was not in the
least a bookman, but a healthy, man of action. Then, as the
well-known anecdote goes, he exclaims to his wife, after reading
a stupid English novel, "I believe I could write a better story
myself." "Precaution" (1820) was the result, but whether it was
better than the unknown English book, no one can now say. It was
bad enough. Yet the next year Cooper published "The Spy," one of
the finest of his novels, which was instantly welcomed in England
and translated in France. Then came, in swift succession, "The
Pioneers," the first Leather-Stocking tale in order of
composition, and "The Pilot," to show that Scott's "Pirate" was
written by a landsman! "Lionel Lincoln" and "The Last of the
Mohicans" followed. The next seven years were spent in Europe,
mainly in France, where "The Prairie" and "The Red Rover" were
written. Cooper now looked back upon his countrymen with eyes of
critical detachment, and made ready to tell them some of their
faults. He came home to Cooperstown in 1833, the year after
Irving's return to America. He had won, deservedly, a great fame,
which he proceeded to imperil by his combativeness with his
neighbors and his harsh strictures upon the national character,
due mainly to his lofty conception of the ideal America. He
continued to spin yarns of sea and shore, and to write naval
history. The tide of fashion set against him in the
eighteen-forties when Bulwer and Dickens rode into favor, but the
stouthearted old pioneer could afford to bide his time. He died
in 1851, just as Mrs. Stowe was writing "Uncle Tom's Cabin."

Two generations have passed since then, and Cooper's place in our