along its base may be
seen springing over the low dam that obstructs its passage, sparkling,
glistening, dancing in the sunlight, as it falls splashing on the stones
below; and then, as though subdued by the fall and crash, it comes
murmuring on, stopping now and then to whirl and eddy round some rock or
protruding stump, and at last glides gently under the arch of the bridge,
seemingly to pause beneath its shadow and ponder upon its recent tumble
from the heights above. Seated here and there upon the bridge are groups of
boys, rod in hand, endeavouring, with the most delicious-looking and
persuasive of baits, to inveigle finny innocents from the cool depths
below.

The windows of the mills are all thrown open, and now and then the voices
of some operatives, singing at their work, steal forth in company with the
whir and hum of the spindles, and mingle with the splash of the waterfall;
and the united voices of nature, industry, and man, harmonize their
swelling tones, or go floating upward on the soft July air. The houses upon
the hill-side seem to be endeavouring to extricate themselves from bowers
of full-leafed trees; and with their white fronts, relieved by the light
green blinds, look cool and inviting in the distance. High above them all,
as though looking down in pride upon the rest, stands the Academy, ennobled
in the course of years by the addition of extensive wings and a row of
stately pillars. On the whole, the town looked charmingly peaceful and
attractive, and appeared just the quiet nook that a weary worker in cities
would select as a place of retirement after a busy round of toils or
pleasure.

There were little knots of idlers gathered about the railroad station, as
there always is in quiet towns--not that they expect any one; but that the
arrival and departure of the train is one of the events of the day, and
those who have nothing else particular to accomplish feel constrained to be
on hand to witness it. Every now and then one of them would look down the
line and wonder why the cars were not in sight.

Amongst those seemingly the most impatient was Miss Ada Bell, who looked
but little older than when she won the heart of the orphan Clarence, years
before, by that kind kiss upon his childish brow. It was hers still--she
bound it to her by long years of affectionate care, almost equalling in its
sacrificing tenderness that which a mother would have bestowed upon her
only child. Clarence, her adopted