St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1882-02-17
The Hollow of the Three Hills.
ONE OF HAwTHORNE's wIERD FANTA
SIZES,

|
| SIZES.
In those strange old times, when
fantastic dreams and madmen's reveI-
les were realized among the actual cir
cumstances of life, two persons met
together at an appointed hour and
place. One was IA lady, graceful i'll
form and fair of feature, though pale
and troubled, and smitten with an un-
timely blight in what should have been
the fullest bloom of her years the
other was an ancient and meanly-
dressed woman, of ill-favored aspect
and so withered, shrunken, and de
crepit, that even the space since she
| began to decay must have exceeded
| the ordinary term of the human eXis-
! tence. In the spot where they en-
countered, no mortal could observe
them. Three little hills stood near
each other, and down in the midst of
them sunk IA hollow basin, almost
mathematically circular, two or three
hundred feet in breadth, and of such
depth that a stately cedar might but
Just he visible above the sides. Dwarf
pines were numerous upon the hills,
and partly fringed the outer verge OF
the intermediate hollow; within which
there was nothing but the brown grass
of October, and here and there a tree
trunk, that had fallen long ago, and
lay mouldering with no green success
sOr from its roots. One of these mass
es of decaying wood, formerly ma jes-
tic oak, rested close beside pool of
green and sluggish water at the bot
tom of the basin. Such scenes as this
(sO gray tradition tells) were once the
resort of the Power of Evil and his
phghted subjects and here, at mid
night or on the dim verge of evening,
they were said to stand round the
mantling pool, disturbing its putrid
waters in the performance of an i'm
pious baptismal rite. The chill beauty
of an autumnal sunset was now gliding
the three hill tops, whence Il paler tint
stole down their sides into the hollow.
Here is cur pleasant meeting come
to pass" said the aged crone, ''accord
ing as thou hast desired. Say quickly
what thou wouldst have of me, for
there is but "A short hour that we may
tarry here"
As the old withered woman spoke, Il
smile glimmered on her countenance,
like lamplight on the wall of sepul-
+ chre. The lady trembled, and cast
her eyes upward to the verge of the
basin, as if meditating to return with
her purpose unaccOmplished. But it
was not so ordained.
Il am stranger in this land, as you
know" said she at length. whence
I come it matters not; but have left
= = those behind me with whom my fate
was intimately bound, and from whom
b am cut off forever. There is IA weight
in my bosom that | cannot away with,
= and have come hither to inquire of
= their welfare"
"And who is there by this green
+ pool that can bring thee news from the
: ends of the earth ?n cried the old wo-
II man, peering into the lady's face.
k Not from my lips mayst thou hear
7 these tidings; yet, be thou bold, and
!, the daylight shall not pass away from
F yOnder hill top, before thy wish be
; granted"
}, Il will do your bidding though
t die" replied the lady desperately.
> The old woman seated herself on the
4 trunk of the fallen tree, threw aside
the hood that shrouded her gray locks
and beckOned her companion to draw
d near.
= "Kneel down." she said, land lay
your forehead on my knees"
s She hesitated moment, but the
anxiety, that had long been kindling
e burned tiereely up within her. As sh,
n knelt down, the border of her garment
was dipped into the pool: she laid hel
5 forehead on the old wOman's knees
rs and the latter drew a cloak about the
a lady's face, so that she was in dark
rs ness. Then she heard the muttereC
: words of prayer, in the midst of whicl
: she started, and would have arisen.
rs Let me tlee,-let me flee and hid,
myself that they may not look upOI
me :" she cried. But, with returning
OF recollection, she hushed herself, ant
Ill was still as death.
pr For it seemed as if other voices-fa
% miliar in infancy, and unforgottel
ia through many wanderings, and in al
e the vicissitudes of her heart and fOrtun,
n. n were mingling with the accents o
CO prayer. At first the words were fain
and indistinct, not rendered so by dis
= tance, but rather resembling the din
pages of a book which we strive t.
read by an imperfect and gradual,
frightening light. In such a manner
as the prayer proceeded, did thOs
voices strengthen upon the ear; til
at length the petition ended, and tin
conversation of an aged man, and of
II. woman broken and decayed like him
in self, became distinctly audible to tn
IS lady as she knelt. But those stran
y. gers appeared not to stand in the hOl
o. low of the three hills. Their voice
Or were encompassed and re-echoed b.
n the walls of a chamber, the window
of which were rattling in the breeze
nj the regular vibration of a clock, tn
cracking of fire, and the tinkling 4
the embers as they fell among tn
an ashes, rendered the scene almost a
Of vivid as if painted to the eye. By
Oi melancholy hearth sat these two oil
/. people, the man calmly despOnden
for the woman querulOus and fearful, an
md their words were all of sorrow. The
ms spoke of daughter, wanderer the
I knew not where, bearing dishOnC
in along with her, and leaving shame an
atfiictiOn to bring their gray heads /
the grave. They alluded also to Otht