Now, alas, how is all changed! _Heu! quantum mutatus ab illo Hectore_!
The grist-mill has disappeared! A row of willows which skirted the
road that winding by the margin of the cove, led to it, has been cut
down; and huge brick and stone factories of paper and cotton goods,
gloomy and stern-like evil genii, brood over the scene, and all
through the day and into the night, with grinding cylinders, and
buzzing spindles and rattling looms, strive to drown, with harsh
discords, the music of the waterfall. One of the little islands has
been joined to the main land with gravel carted into the river, and a
bleach-house or some other abomination erected upon it. The place is
disenchanted. The sad Genius of Romance who once loved to stretch his
limbs upon the mossy rocks, and catch inspiration from watching the
foam and listening to the roar, has departed with a shriek, never to
return.

Felix, when he found himself outside of the gate, gazed up and down
the street, as if uncertain in which direction to proceed. After a
momentary hesitation, and drawing a pair of gloves over his hands, he
seemed to have made up his mind, and at a lounging pace, directed his
course up, that is towards the north. He had not gone far when he saw
coming towards him a person of his own color, who until then had been
hid by a turn in the road. No one else was in sight, the spot being
the piece of table-land mentioned in a previous chapter, about a
half mile from the thickly settled part of the town, which was at the
bottom of the hill near the confluence of the rivers. Here were no
shops or public buildings, but only private residences from thirty to
fifty rods apart, and inhabited by a few families a little wealthier,
perhaps, for the most part, than the others.

It was a man, still hale and hearty, though what his age was it might