I explain these things, lest any European who may
happen to read this book, should regard it as fiction; for, allowing
for trifling differences, a hundred Clawbonnys are to be found on the
two banks of the Hudson, at this very hour.[*]
[Footnote *: Even the American may learn the following facts with some
surprise. It is now about five-and-twenty years since the writer, as
tenant by the courtesy, came into possession of two farms, lying
within twenty-three miles of New York, in each of which there had been
three generations of tenants, and as many of landlords, _without a
scrap of a pen having passed between the parties_, so far as the
writer could ever discover, receipts for rent excepted! He also stands
in nearly the same relation to another farm, in the same county, on
which a lease for ninety years is at this moment running, one of the
covenants of which prescribes that the tenant shall "frequent divine
service _according to the Church of England_, when opportunity
offers." What an evidence of the nature of the tyranny from which our
ancestors escaped, more especially when it is seen that the tenant was
obliged to submit to this severe exaction, in consideration of a rent
that is merely nominal!]
But, to return to the narrative.
My curiosity increased so much, as the day advanced, that I rode
towards the point to look for the sloop.
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