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Cooper, James Fenimore, 1789-1851

"The Spy"

In no one were
these virtuous hopes more vivid than in the bosom of a young officer who
stood on the table rock, contemplating the great cataract, on the
evening of the 25th of July of that bloody year. The person of this
youth was tall and finely molded, indicating a just proportion between
strength and activity; his deep black eyes were of a searching and
dazzling brightness. At times, as they gazed upon the flood of waters
that rushed tumultuously at his feet, there was a stern and daring look
that flashed from them, which denoted the ardor of an enthusiast. But
this proud expression was softened by the lines of a mouth around which
there played a suppressed archness, that partook of feminine beauty. His
hair shone in the setting sun like ringlets of gold, as the air from the
falls gently moved the rich curls from a forehead whose whiteness showed
that exposure and heat alone had given their darker hue to a face
glowing with health. There was another officer standing by the side of
this favored youth; and both seemed, by the interest they betrayed, to
be gazing, for the first time, at the wonder of the western world. A
profound silence was observed by each, until the companion of the
officer that we have described suddenly started, and pointing eagerly
with his sword into the abyss beneath, exclaimed,--
"See! Wharton, there is a man crossing in the very eddies of the
cataract, and in a skiff no bigger than an eggshell.


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