"Now s'pose, Captain, that we buy of these Oneidas and Tuscaroras a water-privilege. Well, that's done. Then we'll put up a building. Plenty of materials, you see, all around here; and we can get the machinery at New York, or send for a good hand, and make it ourselves. Then, as you say, we shall have to get the wool; and after it's manufactured, we shall have to sell it. But why can't we raise sheep here? We can get a small stock at the settlement, and what with them and the increase, we shan't have any lack of wool: and for a market, haven't we got the whole country? But you'll say, Captain, that the foreign importations will ruins us? Well, that is a difficulty; but it can't last, Captain; it won't last. We'll conquer them foreign fellows in that business, yet, as we did in the other. But I think we can, any way, get up a good-enough home market among these Injins. I'll have a talk with 'em about it." And we shall see that he did, on a subsequent occasion, faithfully perform his promise.
But we will not follow the worthy Ichabod in his calculations upon the profits of his speculation. He had scarcely reached the middle of his figurings upon the profits to be realized from a thousand sheep, when Ralph, who was wearied, yet amused, by the earnestness of his companion, exclaimed:
"Arrived at last!"
They had now approached near the northeastern shore of a small lake or pond, which lay buried in the valley, completely surrounded by the forest. Its eastern shore was about fifty rods from the river; and so far as they could observe, it had neither inlet nor outlet. It was of an almost perfect oval form, having on the eastern and a portion of the southern shore a bluff of fifteen or twenty feet in height; but on the southwest, the land gradually receded in an upward slope, into a hill of fifty or sixty feet in height, while, towards the northwest, the land rose sharply from the water's edge to an elevation of eighty or a hundred feet. The northern shore seemed to be flat and marshy, and had the appearance of having, at one time, been covered with the waters of the pond. As we have said, it was of nearly an oval form, and was about one hundred rods across, from east to west, while from north to south the distance was still greater. The water was calm and clear, and reflected, with the brightness and truthfulness of a mirror, the forms of the trees which stood upon its western shore. Even Ichabod awoke from his speculative dreams, and admired, with Ralph, the still and quiet beauty of the scene.
Upon the brow of the hill which we have described on the southwestern shore of the pond, in a clearing of few acres in extent, stood a cottage, not much different from the general style of cottages, as they were then built by the pioneers of the wilderness. Yet, in the distance which intervened between it and our travelers, and in the calmness and clearness of the day, which had now nearly reached its close, the cottage possessed charms, in their eyes, which its intrinsic beauties, either in situation or construction, did not perhaps merit. So far as Ralph was concerned, perhaps, there were other reasons to lend it a charm, beyond the beauty of the landscape or the golden rays thrown upon it by the setting sun.
While they were yet observing it, with very different emotions, it was apparent from an unwonted excitement among its inhabitants, that their arrival had been observed, and the figure of a stout-looking elderly man, followed by a negro, could be seen advancing towards them. But we must leave the meeting to be recorded in the next chapter.
CHAPTER III.
"'Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat,
To peep at such a world; to see the stir
Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the roar she sends, through all her gates,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls, a soft murmur, on the uninjured ear."
WILLIAM COWPER
The individual we have mentioned, who now came rapidly, towards Ralph, was somewhat advanced in years—not less, perhaps, than sixty. Yet, in his whole bearing and appearance could be seen the iron frame and hardihood, which in these days have given place to a certain effeminacy of manners. The hardy, robust race of men who cleared our forests, and encountered cheerfully the sufferings and privations, and endured the toil incident to a pioneer life, are passing away; and however much our vanity may suffer in making the confession, their sons and successors are apt to lack in those iron qualities which succeeded against obstacles, the magnitude of which most of us do not appreciate.