The ways of the hour

by James Fenimore Cooper

Dunscomb was followed to his room by Millington, between whom and himself, John Wilmeter had occasion to remark, a sudden intimacy had sprung up. The counsellor had always liked his student, or he would never have consented to give him his niece; but it was not usual for him to hold as long, or seemingly as confidential conversations with the young man, as now proved to be the case. When the interview was over, Millington mounted a horse and galloped off, in the direction of town, in that almost exploded manner of moving. Time was, and that within the memory of man, when the gentlemen of New York were in their saddles hours each day; but all this is changing with the times. We live in an age of buggies, the gig, phaeton, and curricle having disappeared, and the utilitarian vehicle just named having taken their places. Were it not for the women, who still have occasion for closer carriages, the whole nation would soon be riding about in buggies! Beresford is made, by one of his annotators, to complain that everything like individuality is becoming lost in England, and that the progress of great improvements must be checked, or independent thinkers will shortly be out of the question. If this be true of England, what might not be said on the same subject of America? Here, where there is so much community as to have completely engulphed everything like individual thought and action, we take it the most imitative people on earth are to be found. This truth is manifested in a thousand things. Every town is getting its Broadway, thus defeating the very object of names; to-day the country is dotted with Grecian temples, to-morrow with Gothic villages, all the purposes of domestic architecture being sadly forgotten in each; and, as one of the Spensers is said to have introduced the article of dress which bears his name, by betting he could set the fashion of cutting off the skirts of the coat, so might one who is looked up to, in this country, almost set the fashion of cutting off the nose.

Dunscomb, however, was a perfectly original thinker. This he manifested in his private life, as well as in his public profession. His opinions were formed in his own way, and his acts were as much those of the individual as circumstances would at all allow. His motives in despatching Millington so suddenly to town were known to himself, and will probably be shown to the reader, as the narrative proceeds.

“Well, sir, how are we getting on?” asked John Wilmeter, throwing himself into a chair, in his uncle’s room, with a heated and excited air. “I hope things are going to your mind?”

“We have got a jury, Jack, and that is all that can be said in the matter,” returned the uncle, looking over some papers as the conversation proceeded. “It is good progress, in a capital case, to get a jury empannelled in the first forenoon.”

“You’ll have the verdict in, by this time to-morrow, sir, I’m afraid!”

“Why afraid, boy? The sooner the poor woman is acquitted, the better will it be for her.”

“Ay, if she be acquitted; but I fear everything is looking dark, in the case.”

“And this from you, who fancied the accused an angel of light, only a week since!”

“She is certainly a most fascinating creature, when she chooses to be,” said John, with emphasis; “but she does not always choose to appear in that character.”

“She is most certainly a fascinating creature, when she chooses to be!” returned the uncle, with very much the same sort of emphasis.