“There is no use, Woods, in bothering ourselves about these things, after all,” observed captain Willoughby, one day, when the subject of hanging the long-neglected gates came up between them.  “It’s a heavy job, and the crops will suffer if we take off the hands this week.  We are as safe, here, as we should be in Hyde Park; and safer too; for there house-breakers and foot-pads abound; whereas, your preaching has left nothing but very vulgar and everyday sinners at the Knoll.”

The chaplain had little to say against this reasoning; for, to own the truth, he saw no particular cause for apprehension.  Impunity had produced the feeling of security, until these gates had got to be rather a subject of amusement, than of any serious discussion.  The preceding year, when the stockade was erected, Joel had managed to throw so many obstacles in the way of hanging the gates, that the duty was not performed throughout the whole of the present summer, the subject having been mentioned but once or twice, and then only to be postponed to a more fitting occasion.

As yet no one in the valley knew of the great event which had taken place in July.  A rumour of a design to declare the provinces independent had reached the Hut, in May; but the major’s letter was silent on this important event, and positive information had arrived by no other channel; otherwise, the captain would have regarded the struggle as much more serious than he had ever done before; and he might have set about raising these all-important gates in earnest.  As it was, however, there they stood; each pair leaning against its proper wall or stockade, though those of the latter were so light as to have required but eight or ten men to set them on their hinges, in a couple of hours at most.

Captain Willoughby still confined his agricultural schemes to the site of the old Beaver Pond.  The area of that was perfectly beautiful, every unsightly object having been removed, while the fences and the tillage were faultlessly neat and regular.  Care had been taken, too, to render the few small fields around the cabins which skirted this lovely rural scene, worthy of their vicinage.  The stumps had all been dug, the surfaces levelled, and the orchards and gardens were in keeping with the charms that nature had so bountifully scattered about the place.

While, however, all in the shape of tillage was confined to this one spot, the cattle ranged the forest for miles.  Not only was the valley, but the adjacent mountain-sides were covered with intersecting paths, beaten by the herds, in the course of years.  These paths led to many a glen, or look-out, where Beulah and Maud had long been in the habit of pursuing their rambles, during the sultry heats of summer, Though so beautiful to the eye, the flats were not agreeable for walks; and it was but natural for the lovers of the picturesque to seek the eminences, where they could overlook the vast surfaces of leaves that were spread before them; or to bury themselves in ravines and glens, within which the rays of the sun scarce penetrated.  The paths mentioned led near, or to, a hundred of these places, all within a mile or two of the Hut.  As a matter of course, then, they were not neglected.