A Pre-Columbian Mine. 233 



the heaps of blackened stones, where fires, now 

 quenched for centuries, had once blazed year after 

 year, again flickered the ruddy light of the camp- 

 fire ; and through the forest a pale yet penetrating 

 light brought upon the scene the whole village,-^ 

 men, women, and children. With the gloaming 

 comes fancy's holiday ; but we need not loiter in a 

 fool's paradise. The natural sequence of seeing 

 and then contemplating the remains of one-time 

 human activities is to rebuild upon these ruins the 

 structures they call for. Happily, the time had 

 spared sufficient for a firm foundation in this in- 

 stance ; nor were the ancient fireplaces less tangi- 

 ble facts. What my fancy saw to-night was not a 

 fevered vision, but what every archaeologist ear- 

 nestly longs for, a vivid glimpse of the Delaware 

 valley in pre-Columbian days. He finds himself 

 as poor as at the outset who treats of such matters 

 without reference to what has been. It may be 

 true that a field is sprinkled with broken stones, 

 but never all the truth. Who broke them, and 

 when? Or has frost been playing pranks with 

 the living rock ? Think how much is implied 

 when we speak of an arrow-head ! We gather 



20* 



