mill on one side of the highway, and on the other fills the vats of a tannery; several roads draw toward the point from different directions, and a little hamlet is springing up here, which has been chosen as the site of a school-house.
The building itself, standing within bow-shot of the saw-mill, is of stone, and one of the best in the neighborhood. The situation is good, and the spot might easily have been made very pleasant by merely leaving a few scattered trees here and there; but they have been all swept away to feed the saw-mill, and the banks of the ravine, beautifully shaded only a short time since, are now becoming every day more bare. A spring of water, where the children fill their pitchers, falls with a pleasant trickling sound into a rude trough hard by; a single tree, with a bench in the shade, would have given a friendly, rural look to the spot, but neither shade nor seat is there. Even a tuft of young hemlocks, which stood on the bank near the spring, have been recently cut down.
The smaller towns and villages of this country have generally a pleasing character, a cheerful, flourishing aspect, with their trees, their gardens, and neat door-yards, which give them an advantage over the more close and confined villages of the Old World. But with the hamlet, the mere cluster of a dozen buildings, the case is different. The European hamlet is often a very picturesque spot, for it frequently happens that the cottages have grown up about some half-ruined tower, or ancient bridge, or old well, or a quaint-looking mill, or perhaps some old religious stone. With us the central point of a hamlet can seldom boast of more attractions than a smithy, or a small store and post-office, or a naked school-house, while the spirit which takes pleasure in local public improvement, seems to lie dormant until aroused by the
