heavy "ground-swell" along the valley of a mountain river. A veteran oak
stands sentinel at the brown meadow-gate, its trunk all scarred with the
ruthless cuts of new-ground axes, and the limbs garnished in
summer-time with the crooked snathes of murderous-looking scythes.

The high-road passes a stone's-throw away; but there is little "travel"
to be seen; and every chance passer will inevitably come under the range
of the kitchen windows, and be studied carefully by the eyes of the
stout dairy-maid,--to say nothing of the stalwart Indian cook.

This last you cannot but admire as a type of that noble old race, among
whom your boyish fancy has woven so many stories of romance. You wonder
how she must regard the white interlopers upon her own soil; and you
think that she tolerates the Squire's farming privileges with more
modesty than you would suppose. You learn however that she pays very
little regard to white rights--when they conflict with her own; and
further learn, to your deep regret, that your Princess of the old tribe
is sadly addicted to cider-drinking; and having heard her once or twice
with a very indistinct "Goo-er night, Sq-quare" upon her lips, your
dreams about her grow very tame.

The Squire, like all very sensible men, has his hobbies and
peculiarities. He has a great contempt, for instance, for all paper
money, and imagines banks to be corporate societies skilfully contrived
for the legal plunder of the community. He keeps a supply of silver and
gold by him in the foot of an old stocking, and seems to have great
confidence in the value of Spanish milled dollars. He has no kind of
patience with the new doctrines of farming. Liebig, and all the rest, he
sets down as mere theorists, and has far more respect for the contents
of his barnyard than for all the guano deposits in the world. Scientific