itself over a rocky declivity, mingling, in the genial season of the year, a noble bass with the songs of birds and the sighing of the wind, and adding to and deepening in the rougher months, the roar of the tempest.  A small stream diverted from the river, turned the wheel of a moss-grown grist-mill, which was nestled under large willows at the foot of the rocks, and conveyed the idea of the presence of man, without detracting from the wild beauty of the scenery.

Now, alas, how is all changed! Heu! quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore!  The grist-mill has disappeared!  A row of willows which skirted the road that winding by the margin of the cove, led to it, has been cut down; and huge brick and stone factories of paper and cotton goods, gloomy and stern-like evil genii, brood over the scene, and all through the day and into the night, with grinding cylinders, and buzzing spindles and rattling looms, strive to drown, with harsh discords, the music of the waterfall.  One of the little islands has been joined to the main land with gravel carted into the river, and a bleach-house or some other abomination erected upon it.  The place is disenchanted.  The sad Genius of Romance who once loved to stretch his limbs upon the mossy rocks, and catch inspiration from watching the foam and listening to the roar, has departed with a shriek, never to return.

Felix, when he found himself outside of the gate, gazed up and down the street, as if uncertain in which direction to proceed.  After a momentary hesitation, and drawing a pair of gloves over his hands, he seemed to have made up his mind, and at a lounging pace, directed his course up, that is towards the north.  He had not gone far when he saw coming towards him a person of his own color, who until then had been hid by a turn in the road.  No one else was in sight, the spot being the piece of table-land mentioned in a previous chapter, about a half mile from the thickly settled part of the town, which was at the bottom of the hill near the confluence of the rivers.  Here were no shops or public buildings, but only private residences from thirty to fifty rods apart, and inhabited by a few families a little wealthier, perhaps, for the most part, than the others.

It was a man, still hale and hearty, though what his age was it might be difficult to say.  He might have been sixty or even seventy.  The African race does not betray the secret of age as readily as the white.  Probably the man did not know himself, nor is it of importance.  He moved with a jerk, and upon a nearer approach it appeared that the lower part of one of his legs was made of wood.  He must have been, however, long accustomed to it, for as he moved rather sedately along, it seemed to occasion him but little inconvenience.  When sufficiently near, Felix, touching his cap with great politeness, bade him good morning, by the title of General.  But who our new acquaintance is, we may as well tell here as anywhere else.