190 
RURAL HOURS. 
and swine fed in thickets wlience tlie wild beasts had fled, while 
the ox and the horse drew away in chains the fallen trunks of the 
forest. The tenants of the wilderness shrunk deeper within 
its bounds with every changing moon ; the wild creatures fled 
away within the receding shades of the forest, and the red man 
followed on their track ; his day of power was gone, his hour of 
pitiless revenge had passed, and the last echoes of the war-whoop 
were dying away forever among these hills, when the pale-faces 
laid their hearth-stones by the lake shore. The red man, who 
for thousands of years had been lord of the land, no longer treads 
the soil ; he exists here only in uncertain memories, and in for- 
gotten graves. 
Such has been the change of the last half century. Those 
who from childhood have known the cheerful dwellings of the vil- 
lage, the broad and fertile farms, the well-beaten roads, such as 
they are to-day, can hardly credit that this has all been done so 
recently by a band of men, some of whom, white-headed and 
leaning on their staves, are still among us. Yet such is the simple 
truth. This village lies just on the borders of the tract of coun- 
try which was opened and peopled immediately after the Revolu- 
tion ; it was among the earliest of those Httle colonies from the 
sea-board which struck into the wilderness at that favorable mo- 
ment, and whose rapid growth and progress in civilization have 
become a by- word. Other places, indeed, have far surpassed 
this quiet borough ; Rochester, Buff'alo, and others of a later 
date, have become great cities, while tliis remains a rural village ; 
still, whenever we pause to recall what has been done in this se- 
cluded valley during the lifetime of one generation, we must needs 
be struck with new astonishment. And throughout every act of 
