Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1867-11-01
MsetllaMt . Il &.
The Border Traditio n
DY wILLlAx..lULLEy BRYANT.

BY wILLlAx.pULLEy BRYANT.
1.-THE scene OF this pleasant ane entertaining 10
gend is the large meadow in front Of the sidencs
Of Ralph Taylor. Esq., in the south part OF the
village Of Great harrington. The meadow
once 9ua.mire swamp, Allied with b bushes and
The "traditioin was hrst published in the "U. S.
Review and Literary Gazette" for October, 1895,
carefully preserved copy o. which has b; been cen,
rcpuOlish Bryanps entertaining and somewhat i'm
aglnAiive st0ry.-lBcrkshiro Courier.
In travelling through the western part
ofNcw England, not long since, l stopped
| sOr few days at one Of the beautiful vii.
iagcs Of that region. 1t was situated on
the edge of some fine rich meadows, lying
about one of the prcttiest little rivers in
the world. While there, went one morn
ing to tho top of little hill, which com
maElea view Of the surrounding coun-
try. l saw the white houscs under the
shade of tie old Gins. the neat painted
fences before them, and the border OF
bright green turf on either side of the
road, which the inhabitants kept as clean
as the grass plots of their gardens. saw
the river winding away to the South, be,
tween leaning trees, and thick shrubs and
vines. the hills. rising gently to the west of
the village, covered with orchards and
woods and openings of pasture grounds,
:, beyond them, at no great distance, the
craggy mountains rising almost perpcn-
dicnlarly. as if placed there to heighten
by their rugged aspect, the soft beauty of
the scene below them. If the view was
striking in itself, it was rendered still
more SO by circumsiances Of life and
splendor belonging to the weather, the
hour and the season, The wide circle of
vcrdure. in the midst of which l stood,
was ioalcd and almost crushed by one of
those pr1fusc dews. which fall in our eli
mate of = clear night and glittcred under
hr. .ht sun and clear sky Of transpar-
ant blue. The trees about me were noisy
, with birds, the bob o lincoln rose singing
from the grass to sink in the Grass again
when his strain was ended, and the cat
M-d slualcd in the thicke:, in spite of the
boy who was trying to stone it out. Then
there was the whistle of the quail, the re-
sounding voice Of the hang bird, the mys-
terious note of the post diver, and the
chatter Of swallows darling to and fro
As q sort Of accompaniment to this nat
ural music. tLece WAS heard at times the
deep and tremulous sound Of the river
breaking over mill-dam at some dis
tance.
There is an end Of gazing at the finest
sights. and of listening to the most agree
able sounds had turned to 60 down the
hill, when observed q respectable look
ing old man sitting near me, on the edge
of rock that projected little way out
OF the gronnd. At the very first glance
set him down for one of the ancient yeo-
manry of our country: tor his sturdy frame
and large limbs had evidently been render
cd sturdier and larger by labor aud hard
appearance Of agility without impairing
his natural air of strength l am accus-
toned to look with G feeling Of gratitude,
AS well as respect, on these remnants OF a
hardy and useful generation. | see in
them the men, who have hewed down the
forests and tanned the soil of the fair cOun'
try We inhabit; who built the roads We
, travel over mountains and across moras-
ses. and who planted the hill sides with
orchards. OF which we idly gather the
| fruit. From the attention with which the
old man was looking at the surrounding
prospect, judged that he was come to
the hill on the same errand with myself,
and OH entering iutO conversation with
him, iounG that was not mistaken. He
had lived in the village when boy; he
had been absent from it nearly sixty years
and now, having occasion to pass through
it on journey from distant part Of the
country, be was trying to recoilect its
features from the little eminence by which
it was overlooked. II can hardly" said
he, "satisfy myself that this is the place
III WHICH passed my boyish days, 1t is
true, that the river is still yonder. aud tLis
is the hill where played when child, and
those mountains. with their rocks and
woods. look as they did then. That
small peak lies still in the lap Of the larger
and loltier ridge that stretches like sem
icircle around it. There are tho same
smooth meadows to the east, and the same
fine ascent to the west of the village. But
the old dwellings have been pulled down.
and new ones built in their stead, the trees
under which sat in my childhood haze
been planted; the very roads have chang
ed their places, and the rivulets, that turn
ed my little machinery are dried up. Do
you sce." said he, pointing with his staff,
t'that part of the meadow thai runs up
like little creek or bay between the
spurs Of the upland, and comes close to
the highway A brook formerly came
down to that spot and lost itself in the
marshy soil, but its bed, as you sec. is now
dry. and only serves as a ehaunel to carry
off the superabundance of the rains That
part Of the meadow is now covered with
thick and tel! grass. but well remember
when it was eycrgTown with bushes and
water-f flags. among which many old de-
caying trunks of trees seryed Is o kind Of
causeys over quagmre. that otherwise
would ave been impossible. Itwas a.
spot ct evil report in the village, fer it was
said that lights had heen seen at night
moving among the thckets. and strange
noises had been heard from the ground,
gurglng and half smothered sounds, as OF
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