The woodchopper leaned on his axe, wiped his brows with the tatters of a red handkerchief, and seemed revolving the expediency of communicating the desired information. "Well," he returned, after mature reflection, "if you go fur enough, it'll take you down to the Diamond Pool." "The Diamond Pool," said Miss Leslie; "that has a promising sound." The lane soon began to lead them down the side of a rugged hill, between barberry bushes and stunted savins, with neglected stone walls, where the striped ground squirrels chirruped as they dodged into the crevices. In a few moments they had a glimpse of the water, shining between the branches of the trees below. "Upon my word," said Morton, as they stood on the margin, "the Diamond Pool is not to be despised. We have chosen our walk well, and found a tempting place of rest at the end of it." "A grassy bank,--a clear spring, with cardinal flowers along the edge--a cluster of maple trees----" "And a flat rock at the foot of one of them, for you to rest upon. We are well provided for." "Except that a seat for you seems to have been forgotten." "No, if I wish to rest, this mound of grass will serve my turn. I am used to bivouacs." The sun had just vanished behind the rocky hill on the farther side of the water; a sea of liquid fire, clouds blazoned in gold and crimson, betokened his recent presence. The lake lay like a great mirror framed in green. Another sunset glowed in its depths; rocks, hills, and trees grew downward; and the kingfisher, as he flitted over it, made a dash at the surface, as if to peck at the adversary bird, which seemed shooting upward to meet him. "One might imagine," said Miss Leslie, "that we were a hundred miles away from railroads, factories, and all abominations of the kind." "They will follow soon," said Morton; "they are not far off. There is no sanctuary from American enterprise." "I know it is omnipotent at spoiling a landscape; but I hope that this one may escape,--at least if there is no mill privilege in the neighborhood." "There is--an excellent one--at the outlet of the pond, beyond the three elms yonder. I prophesy that in five years there will be a brick factory on that meadow, with a row of one story houses for the operatives." "It will be a scandal and a profanation. It is too beautiful for such base uses. But at least that old cedar tree, rooted in a cleft of the precipice, has found a safe sanctuary. There it was growing in King Philip's time; in its younger days it saw Indian wigwams standing on this bank; and there its offspring will grow after it, safe from Yankee axes." "One cannot be sure of that. A time will come yet, when those rocks will be blasted to build a town hall, or open another railroad track." "But they cannot build railroads and factories in the clouds. Our New England sunsets will still remain to remind one that there is an ideal side of life--something in it besides locomotives and cotton gins."