264 TIME'S CHANGES. 



mountain has vanished away, save when the rains, or the 

 melting snows send it in a freshet over the rocks where, 

 when I was a boy, it was cascading always. That beautiful 

 meadow, too, is gone, and the streets of a modern village, 

 with blocks of houses, and stores, and shops, occupy the 

 place where I swung my first scythe. The old log-house 

 vanished years and years ago. A steamboat ploughs its way 

 through that beautiful lake, and the things of my boyhood 

 are but visions of memory, called up from the long, long 

 past. Not one landmark of the olden time remains. Oh ! 

 Time I Time I n 



