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- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z
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- 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 hill-sides. At this
season the beauty of every thing around you populates the loneliness of
your way. You would not have the country more settled if you could.
Content to drink in such loveliness at all your senses, the heart
desires no company but Nature.
With what rapture you behold, hovering over some vast hollow of the
hills, or slowly drifting at an immense height over the far sunken
Housatonie valley, some lordly eagle, who in unshared exaltation looks
down equally upon plain and mountain. Or you behold a hawk sallying
from some crag, like a Rhenish baron of old from his pinnacled castle,
and darting down towards the river for his prey. Or perhaps, lazily
gliding about in the zenith, this ruffian fowl is suddenly beset by a
crow, who with stubborn audacity pecks at him, and, spite of all his
bravery, finally persecutes him back to his stronghold. The otherwise
dauntless bandit, soaring at his topmost height, must needs succumb to
this sable image of death. Nor are there wanting many smaller and less
famous fowl, who without contributing to the grandeur, yet greatly add
to the beauty of the scene. The yellow-bird flits like a winged jonquil
here and there; like knots of violets the blue-birds sport in clusters
upon the grass; while hurrying from the pasture to the grove, the red
robin seems an incendiary putting torch to the trees. Meanwhile the air
is vocal with their hymns, and your own soul joys in the general joy.
Like a stranger in an orchestra, you cannot help singing yourself when
all around you raise such hosannas.
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