Chapter 1 - Page 2

elevation, to brave the dangers of richer
though lower fields. So that, at the present day, some of those mountain
townships present an aspect of singular abandonment. Though they have
never known aught but peace and health, they, in one lesser aspect at
least, look like countries depopulated by plague and war. Every mile or
two a house is passed untenanted. The strength of the frame-work of
these ancient buildings enables them long to resist the encroachments of
decay. Spotted gray and green with the weather-stain, their timbers seem
to have lapsed back into their woodland original, forming part now of
the general picturesqueness of the natural scene. They are of
extraordinary size, compared with modern farmhouses. One peculiar
feature is the immense chimney, of light gray stone, perforating the
middle of the roof like a tower.

On all sides are seen the tokens of ancient industry. As stone abounds
throughout these mountains, that material was, for fences, as ready to
the hand as wood, besides being much more durable. Consequently the
landscape is intersected in all directions with walls of uncommon
neatness and strength.

The number and length of these walls is not more surprising than the
size of some of the blocks comprising them. The very Titans seemed to
have been at work. That so small an army as the first settlers must
needs have been, should have taken such wonderful pains to enclose so
ungrateful a soil; that they should have accomplished such herculean
undertakings with so slight prospect of reward; this is a consideration
which gives us a significant hint of the temper of the men of the
Revolutionary era.

Nor could a fitter country be found for the birthplace of the devoted
patriot, Israel Potter.

To this day the best stone-wall builders, as the best wood-choppers,
come from those solitary mountain towns; a tall, athletic, and hardy
race, unerring with the axe as the Indian with the tomahawk; at
stone-rolling, patient as Sisyphus, powerful as Samson.

In fine clear June days, the bloom of these mountains is beyond
expression delightful. Last visiting these heights ere she vanishes,
Spring, like the sunset, flings her sweetest charms upon them. Each tuft
of upland grass is musked like a bouquet with perfume. The balmy breeze
swings to and fro like a censer. On one side the eye follows for the
space of an eagle's flight, the serpentine mountain chains, southwards
from the great purple dome of Taconic--the St. Peter's of these
hills--northwards to the twin summits of Saddleback, which is the
two-steepled natural cathedral of Berkshire; while low down to the west
the Housatonie winds on in her watery labyrinth, through charming
meadows basking in the reflected rays from the