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IBLEY'S Corner was a place that had grown up in a night, as it were. There were, perhaps, half adozen frame houses, a store, a blacksmith's shop, and an immense saw-mill. This last was what had made the place. The several families had moved there and put, up dwellings, for the purpose of boarding the hands who were employed in felling the forest, drawing logs, and converting them into marketable lumber. The wild, brawling river, broken into unnumbered foamy waterfalls by rugged rocks, and its banks, here and there, studded with groups of tall, majestic pines, gave