Strange stories were told of those who, with blazing torches, and blazing noses, most likely, there toiled for the yellow dust.

The "Ancient Henry" himself, it was said, sometimes left his affairs at home, and joined the nightly revels in that mine, where cards and wine played a conspicuous part.
Be that as it may, the old mine was surrounded by a halo of fear which we youngsters never cared to penetrate.
On a fine afternoon an older sister would occasionally wander that way, together with a young M.D., whose principal patient seemed to be at our house, for his little black pony very frequently found shelter in our stable by the side of "old sorrel." From the north garret window I would watch them, wondering how they dared venture so near the old mine, and wishing, mayhap, that the time would come when I, with some daring doctor, would risk everything.

The time _has come_, but alas! instead of being a doctor, he is only a lawyer, who never even saw the old mine in Rice Corner.
Though I never ventured close to the old mine, there was not far from it one pleasant spot where I loved dearly to go.

It was on the hillside, where, 'neath the shadow of a gracefully twining grapevine, lay a large, flat rock.

Thither would I often repair, and sit for hours, listening to the hum of the running water brook, or the song of the summer birds, who, like me, seemed to love that place.