far up country; quiet, uplandish towns, of mountainous fame.  I walked along, musing and enchanted, by rows of sugar-maples, through the small and uninquisitive villages, and sometimes was pleased with the sight of a boat drawn up on a sand-bar, where there appeared no inhabitants to use it.  It seemed, however, as essential to the river as a fish, and to lend a certain dignity to it.  It was like the trout of mountain streams to the fishes of the sea, or like the young of the land-crab born far in the interior, who have never yet heard the sound of the ocean’s surf.  The hills approached nearer and nearer to the stream, until at last they closed behind me, and I found myself just before nightfall in a romantic and retired valley, about half a mile in length, and barely wide enough for the stream at its bottom.  I thought that there could be no finer site for a cottage among mountains.  You could anywhere run across the stream on the rocks, and its constant murmuring would quiet the passions of mankind forever.  Suddenly the road, which seemed aiming for the mountain-side, turned short to the left, and another valley opened, concealing the former, and of the same character with it.  It was the most remarkable and pleasing scenery I had ever seen.  I found here a few mild and hospitable inhabitants, who, as the day was not quite spent, and I was anxious to improve the light, directed me four or five miles farther on my way to the dwelling of a man whose name was Rice, who occupied the last and highest of the valleys that lay in my path, and who, they said, was a rather rude and uncivil man.  But “what is a foreign country to those who have science?  Who is a stranger to those who have the habit of speaking kindly?”

At length, as the sun was setting behind the mountains in a still darker and more solitary vale, I reached the dwelling of this man.  Except for the narrowness of the plain, and that the stones were solid granite, it was the counterpart of that retreat to which Belphoebe bore the wounded Timias,—­

                        “In a pleasant glade,
     With mountains round about environed,
     And mighty woods, which did the valley shade,
     And like a stately theatre it made,
     Spreading itself into a spacious plain;
     And in the midst a little river played
     Amongst the pumy stones which seemed to plain,
     With gentle murmur, that his course they did restrain.”

I observed, as I drew near, that he was not so rude as I had anticipated, for he kept many cattle, and dogs to watch them, and I saw where he had made maple-sugar on the sides of the mountains, and above all distinguished the voices of children mingling with the murmur of the torrent before the door.  As I passed his stable I met one whom I supposed to be a hired man, attending to his cattle, and I inquired if they entertained travellers at that house.  “Sometimes we do,” he answered, gruffly, and immediately went