The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1850-08-13

In the southern part of Massachusetts,
there is a notable river which winds
bravely on for many miles among Stub
born hills, then emerges upon a broad
and fertile valley, and fualy disappears
in TIE Bay Of Mount Hope. At a con-
siderable distance from that last resting.
place, however, it pauses to slumber
(most lovely in its wearncss) in lake
leagues in circumference, and, at the
time Of which we write, half cncirclcd
by the dark arms Of the forest. On ev-
cry side this fairy couch was cnvironed d
with beauty and grandeur Towards
the south, the valley opened wider and
WIDER until IT was lost in the bonndlcss
basin of the ocean and along the bank 5
of the re-awaking stream, luxuriant
meadows had supplanted the ancient
woods. In the opposite direction, re-
mote blue mills yelled the source of the
river, making an obscure, shadowy land
of dreams that forever tempted the fam
cy. On the east, a distant outline OF
mountains, drawn along the sky, was
dimly visible-the home Of the rising
sun. Westward, near and abrupt, the
Spirit of Mountains had built a colossal
tower, full Of caverns, and precipiccs
and crags, that tossed snowy rlvulets
down the dark ravines below.
1t is now two hundred years since the
mansion of Colonel Woodville first n.
rose, the master spirit of this region. 1t:
position was chosen on a smooth emi.
nence, that gently declined eastward
down 10 the waters close at hand 1t.
architecture and its surrounding grounds
though not OF the finest kind, were suct
as few of the colonisis Of that periuc
could command, and may have excited
some envy, even in good Puritan boz
the manifold changes of successive gen,
erations, few features of its former sell
remaining, this ancient dwelling still
stands, surviving witness Of much tha
we are about to relate. The margin o
this lake, too, is thickly sown with me-
MORALS of that mysterious race whose
iavoflle resort was here, and whost
greatest chief was wont to enjoy the hos
pilalily of the house that so long sur,
wives his entire tribe.
Colonel Woodvile was a man of few
thoughts, of fewer words, and ofno anx,
ieiies. He had once, it is true, embark.
ed in public controversy but shortly the
storm grew so violent that he was faiu
to put back for life, and few were they,
in his native England, who knew of the
harbor where he now rode peacefully al
anchor. What his difficulties really
were, or how imminent his danger, has
never been clearly revealed but whis-
pers, pregnant with dark hints of Crom.
well, of king Charles, and Of unknown
and unnameable deeds, were wont to
circulate mysleriously from neighbor 10
neighbor. No fondness for moving in a
cloud Of wonder, (lhe matler-oflact old
gentleman cared not for that, but, most
assuredly, something slrong and momen-
tous as the bonds of life and death, had
locked up forever the strange secrets Of
his transatlantic experience.
Far different was the nature Of Mrs.
Woodyille To revel among sad aud
gloomy imaginalions, to cherish every
tormen,Ing fancy that came to mock her,
until il became in her mind stern real
iiy, was ever the delight of her restless
spirit. Never was there a woman Of q
more afiectonate and ienderly sensitive
nature, and whatever had the deepest
root in her heart was sure TO be cnyel'