OR
fetters anb fegenbs about our  nummiar  omte.
BY,_GODFREY  GREYLOCK.
"Thou shalt look
Upon the green and rolling forest tops,
And down into the secrets of the glens,
And streams, that with their bordering thickets strive
To hide their windings. Thou shalt gaze at once
Here on white villages and tilth and herds,
And swarming roads, and there on solitudes
That only hear the torrent, and the wind,
And eagles shriek."
BRYANT.




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1852,
BY J. E. A. SMIITH,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts.
BOSTO N:
$tarc  atsb  {icarbolt, Vrilterzs,
No. 11 Milk Street.




EPISTLE DEDICATORY
(To Oummer iambletr  on tl)e j-trkl1iv: k1illr.
FRIENDS:From Vermont upon the north to Connecticut
upon the south, for fifty miles along the eastern borders
of New York, extends Berkshire, the most western
county of Massachusetts. It is a region of hills and
valleys, of lake and stream, of woodland, farm and
field. Its beauty is world renowned; for the pens of
Bryant and Miss Sedgwick have made it their favorite
theme. Within its limits are Monument Mountain,
Icy Glen, the Stockbridge Bowl, Green River, with a
thousand other scenes of storied or of unsung loveliness.
In the north rise majestically, six thousand feet into
the air, the double peaks of Greylock. Along our
western borders lie the dome like summit of the Taghconic range. Less graceful in outline, but even more
romantic with broken and precipitous ascents, the IHoosacs shut out the world upon the east. Within this
mountain walled amphitheatre lies cradled the upland
valley of the Housatonic, with all its fertile farms, its
mansion homes, and frequent villages. Somebody has
called it the Piedmont of America. I do not know




iv             EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
how just the appellation may be, but I do know that if
Piedmont can rightly be called the Berkshire of Europe, it must be a very delightful region.
What we most admire in Berkshire scenery is its
freshness, boldness, and variety. Our hills boast no
astounding grandeur; there is nothing about them of
an Alpine character; they possess few scenes which
can properly rank with the sublime.  The highest
mountain tops, the most precipitous cliffs, -sufficient
to claim our admiration, wild enough to be the marvel
of tourists from the tame coast country, - cannot, for a
moment, compare with similar scenes among the White
3M[ountains, or the Alleghanies —not to mention more
unapproachable wonders of Nature. Our deepest ravines, often penetrated by smooth, flower bordered
roads, are very different things, indeed, from the earthquake rifted chasms of other lands.
If the traveller seek some object for a day's or a
week's wonder, some tremendous cataract or "I Heaven
piercing Cordillera," he must seek it elsewhere. But
if he asks for a retreat among wild and picturesque
scenery, adorned by much that is pleasant and refined
in his city life, but far removed from  its heat and turmoil; where he can draw closer the silken cord of social
intercourse, and yet throw loose some of its galling
chains; where nature ennobles by her greatness but
never chills with a firown, he may find it all amid the
varied beauty of the Berkshire Hills.
The inexhaustible variety of our vistas is wonderful.
It is marvellous in what an endless series of combinations, mountain, valley, lake, stream, rock, field and
wood, present themselves. Wherever you go, you




EPISTLE DEDICATORY.                V
meet a constant succession of changes which at once
charm the eye and delight the heart. At every turn
"You stand suddenly astonished,
You are gladdened unaware."
Through the long Summer months you may seek,
and not in vain, some new object, daily, of interest and
pleasure. But that you will not do; a few spots will
become so dear that, while you revisit them again and
again, others of perhaps greater merit will remain neglected.
So profusely has Nature scattered her treasures in
this fair land, that it is thought by most, superfluous to
search out her more choice and hidden gems. Many
of the most unique and beautiful of these remained concealed from those who have passed their lives within a
rifle shot of them. The traditions which were once attached to almost all these scenes are also rapidly fading
away, with the fading years of grey haired men.
"There was a story," I have been often told, "Old
Deacon Whitehead used to tell, but he is dead and I
have forgotten the details."
To make known some of these hidden retreats of
beauty, to revive and preserve a few of these half forgotten traditions, was the design with which these brief
pages were commenced. It has been a work of greater
difficulty than was anticipated, to procure the necessary
information, although now, when it is too late to be of
service, much new material is offered. It will not be
improper, perhaps, to say here, that during our progress,
circumstances have occurred which rendered necessary
a slight change in the character originally intended,




vi            EPISTLE DEDICATORY.
and the omission of a great deal of matter, of merely
local interest, which was already written.
And now to you, whom I have presumed to call my
friends, and for whom this little volume was more espepecially designed, I commend, for your kindness, what
is done. Every page was written with a sympathy for
your admiration of this pleasant county, which expanded
as it warmed, into personal friendship for yourselves.
If I shall point any of you to scenes of Nature's gladness, to which you would otherwise have been strangers; if I shall contribute one moment of happiness to
your Summer hours; if I shall hereafter recall more
vividly to your mind these rural scenes, when they
shall be a little faded, I shall be amply repaid; how
much more, if I shall add one pleasant thought to mingle with your own, as you gaze upon the grand, the
noble, or the beautiful, in our dear mountain valley.
GODFREY  GREYLOCI.
Pittsfield, September, 1852.




CONTENTS.
OUR TOWN. —ITS OLD ELM. —ITS ENVIRONS. — ITS PEOPLE.-ITS PAST AND PRESENT,.                 9
WASHINGTON MOUNTAIN. - UNDINE S GLEN. -AND LAKE
ASHLEY,                                     18
ROARING BROOK. -TORIES7 GLEN.- AND SOMETHING
ABOUT TtIE TORIES, -                        28
PONTOOSUC LAKE AND ROLLING ROCKI,       -   -    38
LEBANON SPRINGS.-A DASH AT LIFE THERE,   -       45
BERRY POND, -                                    60
THE WVIZARD'S GLEN,  -  68
OUR RURAL CEMETERY, -76
AN HOUR IN OUR CEMETERY —-BEING BRIEF RECORDS
OF CONVERSATION, -                          82
LENOX AND ITS SCENERY,             -             88
LENOX AS A JUNGLE FOR LITERARY LIONS,            97
LAKE ONOTA —- AND ITS WVHITE DEER,              109
VISIT TO A SHAKER MEETING,  -   -   118
NOTES ON SHAIKERDOM1, -    -                    135
THAT EXCURSION TO GREYLOCK,      -      -       149
ABOUT OUR CATTLE SHO,  -   -   -   -          -157
WHAT THEY DO AT OTIS, -                         178
PITTSFIELD YOUNG LADIES' INSTITUTE,   -   -   - 186
LANESBORO'.-HILLS AND VALLEYS, -   -   -   -   192
GRANULAR QUARTZ.-SILICIOUS SAND BEDS,    -   - 202
MONUMENT MOUNTAIN. — ICY GLEN. - STOCKBRIDGE
BOWL. —THE MURDERED TRAVELLER'S GLEN,. 207
~WAHCONAHRS FALLS, AND A TRADITION ABOUT THEM,   213








TAGHCONIC.
CHAPTER I.
OUR TOWN. — ITS OLD ELM. - ITS ENVIRONS. - ITS
PEOPLE. — ITS PAST AND PRESENT.
To be sure the first claim which our town has to
notice is that it is ours. The "proprid" is an excellent and universally recognised title to our affections;
the very idea of property is genial to our hearts —
even if it be only in the travelled streets of a town,
with so much of Heaven's universal gifts as one can
there possess, use and enjoy, in common with six
thousand copartners.  "Mine" and, more intensely,
"mine own" are terms of superlative endearment in
the patois of the novel writers. So deeply indeed is
this correspondence between ownership and affection
implanted in the breast, that no sooner does a man conceive a passion for his neighbor's house, horse, or any
thing that is his, than an uneasy, feverish desire to
transfer the possession betrays that his mind is out of
unison with the harmony of Nature. Nowhere is this
reciprocal relation more heartily honored than in the




10                 TAGHCONIC.
love which the good people of PITTSFIELD bear to
their beautiful town. Waiving, however, this claim,
which is, in its terms, not binding upon a stranger, our
town has a title to affectionate admiration in its beauty,
its environs and its associations, which no traveller
ever desires to impeach. It is indeed a fair town.
Standing in the centre of that magnificent panorama
of hills which encompasses the County of Berkshire, it
is encircled by a chain of beauty. Branching from its
central green, delightful avenues extend in all directions into the most picturesque and inviting regions;
but, before we permit them to entice us away, let us
linger a little while under the circular grove of elms
which shades its green.
You must have heard of the Old Elm of Pittsfield;
it rises here above us-the scarred and seared veteran
of centuries in the midst of the young green growth.
Straight into the air it soars one hundred and twenty
six feet; a tall, grey pillar, bearing upon its head a few
green branches and a few withered, shattered, and bare
limbs. From Greylock to. Monument Mountain there
is no inanimate thing so reverend and venerable as this.
It has had hair-breadth escapes in its day - has that
old tree. When it stood a graceful sapling in the untouched forest- wherein as yet no white man had his
habitation -it is told that the Indian war parties camne
hither at night, with the pale-faced prisoners whom
they had taken from the Southern settlements. Here,
upon the place which is now our peaceful green, they
pitched their camp, and bound the swollen and bleeding limbs of their miserable captives to the young elm,
while they slept. Once, as the story goes, a prisoner,




THE OLD ELM.                11
worn out by the way and unable to proceed, was bound
to the lithe trunk of the elm, the faggots piled around
him and already lighted, for the last rite of savage
cruelty, when Providence interfered - probably in the
shape of a French priest, or officer,- the victim was
rescued, and with him the young tree escaped its first
danger from the hand of man; but the kindling flames
had left their mark upon it, by which it was afterwards recognised.
It lived to see the red race vanish from the land,
and another people usurp their hunting-grounds; but
its own dangers were not yet past. The new race
were pious and Godly men, and must have a temple in
which to worship the Most High. They built themselves a Meeting-house — which we may suppose to
have been a rude and simple structure - close by the
Elm. A few years passed, they grew mightily, and their
borders became too narrow for them. It was determined to build a larger and more goodly church.
Meanwhile the Elm had grown very tall and straight,
and the devout deacons who had it in charge to build
the new sanctuary, cast their eyes upon it and said
that it was convenient and fitting for a principal beam
in the frame. Perhaps they thought the Almighty had
planted and preserved it there for that special purpose,
as He once furnished a ram to Abraham for a sacrifice.
If any such thought did enter their hearts the event
proved its falsity; the tree turned out the better representative of Isaacc,-for at the critical moment, when
it was about to be sacrificed, an angel appeared to save
it, in the person of one Mrs. Williams, a brave and
excellent dcame who lived not far off. Seeing the




12                 TAGHCONIC.
preparations for felling her'favorite tree, she placed
herself as a shield before it, and so stoutly maintained
her post that the destroyers were at last either softened
or shamed from their purpose, and the tree was permitted to remain.
The husband of this brave and gentle lady did his
share toward the preservation of the Old Elm. On
Sundays the devout worshippers were in the habit of
fastening their horses to iron spikes, with which they
had encircled the tree; the sermons, in those days,
were none of the shortest, and while their masters
waited for the third turning of the hour-glass, the
beasts made ruinous havoc with the bark and roots of
the Elm. To prevent this weekly equine attack, Mr.
Williams piled up a barricade of stones, which proved
an effective protection. It is to this gentleman that
the village owes also its public square, - of which he
gave the southern half from his own land, on condition
that the town should place their Meeting-house at a
corresponding distance from the Elm on the north.
The tree, having survived the attacks of savage and
civilized man, had a more formidable enemy to encounter. Some years ago, a thunder-bolt fell upon it, and
running down its side stripped away the bark, leaving
a naked wound of ghastly whiteness, from top to bottom. The fiery fluid dried up the juices in its old
veins; many of the limbs died, and the whole tree,
surviving the fury of savage and the piety of civilized
man, is slowly perishing of the wrath of Heaven. A
few branches yet flourish greenly, but year by year
grow less. It is evident our old friend will survive not
many more Winters; and as often as the Spring begins




THE DWELLINGS.                13
to swell the buds in the grove, the question is asked
anxiously, "Will the Old Elm survive this year, also?"
Yet even in its death it is fortunate; the long, white
streak, where the scathing lightning passed adown
its trunk, caught the eye of Herman Mellville, who
interwove it with his strong-lined portrait of Captain
Ahab.  "Threading its way," he says, "out from
among his grey hairs, and continuing right down
one side his tawny, scorched face and neck, till it
disappeared in his clothing, you saw a slender, rod-like
mark, lividly whitish. It resembled that perpendicular
seam sometimes made in the straight, lofty trunk of a
great tree, when the upper lightning tearingly darts
down it, and, without wrenching a single twig, peels
and grooves out the bark, from top to bottom, ere running off into the soil, — leaving the tree still greenly
alive, but branded." There you have a graphic picture
of one of the most noticeable features of our Old Elm;
and thus, in its death stroke it received a new life, -
as the ancients fabled that they who died by the lightning's bolt, thereby became immortal.
Branching from the central square, extend the broad,
quiet, shaded streets, bordered by pretty white-walled
houses, with handsome gardens and court-yards green
with shrubbery, — a delightful Summer promenade.
To the town's people these dwellings are each pregnant
with associations of the past; each has its story. They
tell you - these good citizens - as you pass along, now
pleasant, gossiping histories; now low hissed scandals,
mouldy and soured, which ought long ago to have been
in their graves; and occasionally you hear a tale of
open or proved guilt, such as you would rather not
1*




14                 TAGHCONIC.
believe could have its dwelling in such innocent-looking
homes. Yet is our town unsurpassed, in the virtue,
intelligence, and cultivation of its citizens. One who
calls it "ours" only by courtesy can modestly say it.
You hear them speak names which call up no image
in your mind, and which have long since ceased to
receive an answer in these streets. They call places
by appellations unfamiliar to your ears. The iron
horse has brought new wealth, prosperity and hope to
the thriving town. There are groceries where there
used to be gardens; mansions where there used to be
meadows. The town is richer and handsomer than it
was; but in many hearts, for whom the old quiet used
to be full of joy and peace, the new wealth and crowd
and noisy prosperity cannot but sometimes awaken
painful longings. In the stillness of the evening —
when the shrill cry of the steam-whistle pierces the ear
and goes echoing into the breathless distance, like the
shout of a drunken man on the solemn midnight - you
listen to their touching reminiscences of the past, and
are moved by laments for which the eager, throbbing
heart of common life has no chord in unison.
In these streets live some whose names are known to
fame. A little apart from the village is the mansion
and farm of Governor BRIGGS - our model man. The
mansion is a handsome one, in a fine location, and profusely surrounded with shrubbery. Nearer our square
is the residence of the Rev. Dr. TODD. To say nothing
of his eloquence as a divine, and his excellence as a
writer of light literature, every student ought to make a
pilgrimage to the home of the author of the " Student's
Manual," - the most perfect work of its kind ever




OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.                15
written; to whose paternal and skillful advice many
young men owe all they are or will be.
On a gentle knoll on one of our most beautiful streets,
is the country seat of Hon. NATHAN  APPLETON, in
which is the " Old Clock on the Stairs," celebrated by
Professor LONGFELLOW.
Somewhat back from the village street
Stands the old fashioned country seat;
Across its antique portico
Tall poplar trees their shadows throw, -
And from its station in the hall
An ancient time-piece says to allForever, never,
Never, forever."
A couple of miles farther south, upon a little hill,
around which the Housatonic makes a graceful curve,
is the villa of OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. His estate
here is the relic of a whole township, purchased of the
Indians by an ancestor of the poet. He thus tells the
story in a speech at the Berkshire Jubilee, in 1848.
"In the year 1735, Hon. Jacob Wendell, my grandfather in the maternal line, bought a township, not then
laid out — the township of Pontoosuc, (now Pittsfield,)
- and that little spot which we still hold is the relic of
24,000 acres of baronial territory.  When I say this,
no feeling which can be the subject of ridicule animates
my bosom; I know too well that the hills and rocks
outlast our families; I know  that we fall upon the
places we claim as the leaves of the forest fall, - and,
as passed the soil from the original occupants into the
hands of my immediate ancestor, I know it must pass
from me and mine; and yet, with pleasure and pride I
feel that I can take every inhabitant by the hand and




16                 TAGHCONIC.
say, that if not a son nor a grandson of this fair county,
I am at least allied by an hereditary relation."
Adjoining the estate of Dr. Holmes is that of HERMAN MELLVILLE, who has retired thus far from the
sea, where nothing can remind him of the familiar
sounds of Ocean, save the roar of the wind among the
forest trees.
Oh, home returned, what joy to tell
Of all the dangers that befell
The sailor boy at sea. "
These gentlemen come hither for quiet; let us leave
them to it, hoping that they may find in the bracing
mountain air inspiration for a hundred things as wise
and witty as "Astrea," and as enchantingly truthful
as "Typee."
For ourselves, we will close our ramble round the
town by climbing South Mountain -a favorite resort
of the town's people. Few spots any where are more
attractive. Passing from its foot, up the broad, natural
terraces which wind around it, bordered by a thousand
variegated wild flowers, to its rocky summit, you are
presented with scenes of ever-changing beauty. The
over-view from the summit is the best you can find of
Pittsfield and the northern valley, as far as Greylock.
Standing on its topmost rock, under a spreading oak
which waves its branches like a green banner, high
above the surrounding wood, you will be enchanted by
the varied scene below.
Just at your feet, in the lands of J. R. 3aMOREWOD,
Esq., will lie the 3Mellville Pond-the tiniest little
lakelet you ever saw, - so crystal, clear, and pure, that




MOUNTAIN SCENERY.               17
a fanciful and poetic friend calls it a " Tear of Heaven."
There is a cool and mossy path upon its eastern border,
completely overarched by trees, -" No more sky, for
overbranching at your head than at your feet." Rarely,
through a leaf-screened crevice, the green and golden
light streams down with a subdued gorgeousness.
There is something exquisitely rich in these and other
woodland tints; I cannot forget the purple hue which
a few struggling rays of light imparted to a little spot
of black earth, as I walked in this cool retreat once
when it was fierce noontide without. The very outlines
marked by its rich, deep coloring, are vividly present
to me now; while so much that seemed more enduring
has faded from existence, and is fading from memory.
But back again to our mountain top. It is the smallest of three sister hills; on its western side is Mt.
Oceola - another much prized resort, but of less gentle
attractions than South Mountain. Still farther to the
west is Perry's Peak; I have never visited it, but am
told the view from it is hardly, if at all, surpassed by
that from Greylock, and I can well believe it.
Other beautiful things are shown to us from this pinnacle, but of them anon; other things of interest might
be said of our people, but of that also at another, perhlaps a distant time.




CHAPTER II.
WASHINGTON MOUNTAIN. - UNDINE S GLEN.
AND LAKE ASHLEY.
THIS last has been a week of rare sultriness with
us —the fierce, dying flicker of Summer's life flame.
The maple leaves have lost the last remnant of their
glossy freshness; the cattle stand cooling themselves
under the willow trees in the still pools of the river;
long ago the birds ceased their songs and fled into the
deeper recesses of the woods; we human idlers lie listlessly under the shade of the nearer groves, in dreamy
reveries or feeble speculations upon the probable destiny
of some little cloud which may chance to speck the
horizon — the forlorn hope of a thunder-shower. At
evening we broach some mild beverage of conversation,
but if any venturous tongue leads the imagination to
your torrid city of 1[anhattoes, we start back as if from
the flaming mouth of a furnace. On the most fiery day
of this fiery seven, came a friend who, that day of all
others, must climb Washington Mountain. No flaming
sword of the elements could deter him, and all the
chivalry of friendship forbade me to abandon his side.
This Washington Mountain is part of the Hoosac range,
a continuation of the Green Mountains, which runs
through the entire length of Berkshire County, on its




WASHINGTON MOUNTAIN.             19
eastern border. The point which we were to visit lies
some seven miles east of Pittsfield, and seven hundred
feet above it; that is, not far from eighteen hundred
feet above tide-water, at Albany.
Thinking to escape the more violent heat, we set out
at a very early hour, but the air was already intensely
sultry, and, still worse, was filled with a fine white
dust, that completely penetrated eyes, nose, and mouth.
We could neither see, breathe, nor speak, with comfort;
and the gritty particles between our teeth sent a nervous shudder through the whole frame. As we ascended
the mountain we came upon a fine breeze which never
fails there, and which at the same time aggravated the
plague of the dust, and inspired us with vigor to devise
and execute a remedy.
Ever and anon, by the road-side, appeared glimpses
of a deep, rocky gorge. Up this, L. proposed to ascend
the mountain by a path familiar to him, and, accordingly, sending our horse forward, we plunged down a
steep descent thick beset with brambles. At the bottom, a little brook came tumbling and purling down the
hill, and, yielding to its suggestions, we indulged in a
series of luscious ablutions. None but those who have
experienced the like, can know the thrilling vigor and
elasticity which penetrated us with the cool mountain
air when the burning and inflammatory dust was once
removed from the pores.
Filled with new life, we pushed eagerly up the brook,
now clambering over huge angular blocks of flint rock,
now sauntering along smooth patches of green sward,
and anon pushing our way through a thorny hedge of
blackberry bushes, hanging full of the ripest fruit.




20                 TAGHCONIC.
Still L. led on, till we came to a little level spot of
green sward, around which the brook swept in a graceful curve, while a thick leaved maple overhung it.
We were here shut out from all sight of human habitation.  The only traces of man's ravages were the
weather-beaten stumps, which stood, ghastly memorials
of his parricidal war with nature, like the bleached
sculls which the ploughman turns up on an ancient
battle-field. The precipitous hills, on either side, were
yet shaggy, although not as of old, with the maple, the
beech, the fir, and the hemlock. Just up the gorge, the
streamlet leaped down a black ledge in a silver white
column; while, beyond, the glen was dark with narrowing cliffs and over-hanging trees. Bravely, but in vain,
the gorgeous sunshine darted its arrowy rays into that
Thermopyla of gloom.
L. flung himself at full length beneath the maple,
and I was glad to follow his example. " Do you
know," he said, "this is Undine's Glen? Shall I tell
you the story of how it got its foreign name?"  Do,
I replied.
U n bin'o    orge.
One day in June, some ten years ago, there came to
the village hotel in P. two ladies; the one, Miss Helen
V., an heiress, and what was more, a spirited, brilliant,
and natural girl. The other was her maiden aunt,
Miss M., neither young nor pretty, yet a little romantic and not a little stiff in her manners. Miss M. held
moreover the responsible office of guardian to her
niece, which that young lady took the best care should
be anything but a sinecure.




UNDINE'S GORGE.               21
Riding, walking, and reading, the lone dames whiled
away a week or two; when, provokingly enough, just
as the last page of their last light reading was cut,
there came a rainy, dreary day, as such days will come,
even in June. At such desperate junctures, solid literature and re-readings are not to be thought of; so
recourse was had to the landlord. That functionary
was anxious to serve his fair guests, but unfortunately
his shelves contained just what they had already read.
Suddenly his face brightened with a new idea. Among
his boarders was one Dr. M., who, to enliven his hours
in the country had brought with him from New York
a curious library. This gentleman was summoned, and
made his appearance, -a very personable young gentleman and a clever. The wants of the ladies were
made known to him, and he invited them to examine
his library for themselves, and some pictures which he
prized as well.
Helen was delighted, although she did not exactly
say so then; Miss M. hesitated, with some secret misgivings, but finally, overcome by the fiend ennui and
the frank bearing of M., she, courteously enough, accepted the invitation. Evening was upon them before
they had completed the survey, for, besides his paintings by other artists, M. modestly displayed his own
portfolio, filled with sketches of foreign as well- as
neighboring scenery. Helen eagerly turned them over,
and M. had an enthusiastic word for many a remembered scene. After Miss M. had several times reminded her of her prolonged stay, Helen selected De
La Motte Fouque's delightful romance of " Undine"
from the library, and that evening M. read it aloud to
2




22                TAGGHCONIC.
them in their parlor. Before they parted the ladies
had consented to accompany him on the morrow to this
spot, of which he was going to complete a sketch. So
does friendship ripen when the right sun-light falls
upon it.
They came hither; the artist fixed his easel and
wrought on his sketch. Helen, seated at the foot of
this maple, read "Undine" to her aunt. But both
found an interval to wander up the glen; so with reading, sketching, romancing, -and most likely eating —
the day wore away and the night came, -a moonlight
night and a moonlight ride home.
Some days passed, in which MI. gained hugely in the
good opinion of his fair friends, who continually teased
him for a sight of his sketch — which he declared
should not be seen until it was completed.  Thus
something of an air of mystery had woven itself
around the picture when at last he brought it out,
altogether with the air of a man who knows he has
done a nice thing, and is rather proud to have the
world see it.
Never was pride more completely clashed, or lover
more completely puzzled. Helen blushed and smiled,
but looked strangely and heartily vexed. The guardian
aunt frowned unequivocally - not to say scowled. Poor
M. turned from one to the other in most innocent and
ludicrous bewilderment; but finally settled down into a
fixed consideration of the cloud which had so suddenly
gathered on the old lady's brow, - as a Summer storm
sometimes will over the placid surface of Lake Ashley.
The Summer storm is transient, but Miss M. seemed
to have an inexhaustible magazine of wrath behind




UNDINE'S GORGE.               23
her wrinkled forehead. So, taking a hint from Helen's
eye, at the first growl of the thunder AM. fled.
The tempest was brewed in this wise. The good
old lady, with all her romance and stateliness, had a
spice of puritanism about her, and the special phase in
which it shewed itself was a prudish modesty in the
matter of pictures. Why it took this form, more than
any other, might be discovered, perhaps, if we could
pry into the crooks and crannies of her early history.
At present it only concerns us to know that it was
there, and that in consequence of it she issued a husky
edict for M. to " take his vile picture hence."
Now this vile painting was neither more nor less
than a simple and spirited sketch of this scene, into
which the artist had interwoven a portrait of Helen in
the character of Undine. All very well — only the
painter, with the modest assurance of his art, had
changed the maiden's chaste garb for a bit of flimsy
drapery, which displayed the ivory neck and swelling
bosom, the taper leg and rosy foot, as circumstantially
as though he had had the original all the while before
him for a model. 0 fair and false imagination, to steal
away so fair and true a reality!
Miss M. would have thought her ward's character
altogether compromised by interchanging a word more
with the immoral young man M. had proved himself,
in her estimation.  Helen thought quite otherwise.
Fortunately for M., there was another difference in
their notions. The aunt loved her morning pillow —
the niece her morning walk, — and this taste of the
damsel's now acquired a new strength that would have
charmed Dr. Alcott. In another point of view these




24                TAGHCONIC.
sunrise excursions to South Mountain and Mlellville's
Lake might have been thought alarmingly frequent.
The young lady could not have been expected or desired to make her walks solitary, but one who saw how
demurely they met at the breakfast table would not have
surmised that the painter had been her companion an
hour before.
But the end was not yet; walking, it seems, would not
content them,- they must ride as well. So one balmy
morning in the grey twilight, a pair of spirited greys
were reined up at the south door of the Berkshire
House, while our young friends took their places behind them; and then heigho for Lebanon! "They'11
have fleet steeds that follow, quoth young Lochinvar."
Gallant champions of Love, these same fiery greys!
Before then and since they have borne beating hearts
up the hills and down the valleys of that seven miles
of Hymen's highway which lie between the jurisdiction
of the puritan publishment laws and the marriage encouraging State of New York. I wonder if any where
in this western world more visions of happiness have
been dreamed, more passionate pulsations throbbed,
than between the tall Elm of Pittsfield and the allcuring Springs of Lebanon. The very murmurs of
the groves have caught the soft tones of lover's vows;
the sparkling streams reflect the ardent gleam of expectant bridegroom's eyes.
Over this hymenial highway that balmy morning
our happy couple were rapidly whirled, and before the
sun was up, the words were said which bound them
in that union which no words can unloose. I doubt
if their steeds were urged as impatiently on their




LAKE ASHLEY.                 25
return, but they reached their hotel again while the
careless guardian, fatigued with the last night's novel,
yet slept. How they ever reconciled matters with her
I never heard; but it was done, for last week she sat
quietly by, while M., in a little recessed back parlor in
Brooklyn, told me the story of his wooing. On the
wall, too, he pointed out to me the identical "vile
painting;" and by her mother's side a little Undine of
eight Summers shook her sunny curls and laughed. I
do n't think the painter ever regretted his day's sketching in the wild glen he christened " Undine's Gorge."
The story told, and a bumper drained to the health
of the heroine, -again up, still up the cool gorge, till
it diverged to the north, while our path lay southward
Reclaiming our team, we now soon reached the summit
and looked down upon the wild, billowy sea of mountains, which stretched far away to the north-east, —a
taller peak sometimes dashing its splintered crest into
the air, and a white village spire or a red farm-house
appearing here and there a floating waif upon the
waste. Upon a lofty point, miles away, sat the pretty
village of Middlefield, glittering in the sun-light and
looking like a white walled Moorish town among the
Alpuxuras.
Turning away at last from this majestic overview,
we passed down a rustic road which leads to the south,
and were soon riding along the borders of Lake Ashley
— a little romantic loch which lies upon the summit of
the mountain. It is indeed a most exquisite sheet of
water. Nothing can exceed the cold, pure serenity
of its dark waves. Lined on all sides but one by
2*




26                 TAGHOONIC.
unbroken woods, fed only by fountains which gush from
below, with neither speck nor boat on all its tranquil
surface, it seemed, as we rode slowly along its eastern
border, the waters of solitude. It should be so; for
since the Indians' graceful bark is gone forever, there
remains none which would not do violence to the lonely
beauty of the scene. We call it Lake Ashley -a
pretty name enough, but none worthy of it could come
except from an Indian imagination and in the soft
syllables of the native tongue, like those in which that
more magnificent mountain lake was called Winneepissaukee - (not Winnepiseoga) - the smile of GOD.
In long, delicious draughts we drank deep to the
mountain maids and the maids of the valley, —to the
spirits of air, earth, and water, - not forgetting those
enterprising gentlemen who propose to lead these waters from their aerie home to the doors of the people of
Pittsfield. To these gentlemen, and through them to
Dr. Jackson, I am indebted for the assurance that this
water is as pure as it seems to be - that is, the nearest
natural approach to distilled water.
East of the Lake, a little round well-wooded noppit
rises, and ascending it we found a bed of very pure
and beautiful granular quartz, which used to be worked
for the use of the eastern glass manufacturers, but is
long since abandoned, on account of the far greater
abundance, as well as facilities for transportation and
working, in other localities.
Upon the northern side of the noppit is piled a rugged heap of those flint boulders, so frequent in this
region. A few curious lichens grow upon them, and
in the crevices some beautiful wild flowers. Taking




ATMOSPHERIC CHANGES.               27
specimens of these, as well as the quartz, and drinking
one farewell draught at the Lake, we began our return.
As we descended, a succession of fine views of the
valley of the Housatonic presented themselves. Now
the cultivated interval, then the green hills of Taghconic, and still beyond the blue and cloud-like summits
of the Kaatskills.
It is from this hill some of the most beautiful effects
of atmospheric changes are observed, -and here the
sea of mist filling the valley and then rolling up its
sides, like the breaking up of the great deep, astonishes
the gazer. A gentleman tells me that travellers, after
having the road to Pittsfield pointed out to them, often
inquire how they are to cross the Lake - so completely
deceptive is the veil of mist.




CHAPTER III.
ROARING BROOK. - TORIES' GLEN. - AND
SOMETHING ABOUT THE TORIES.
"EVERY  State and almost every county of New
England has its Roaring Brook- a mountain streamlet, overhung by woods, impeded by a mill, encumbered
by fallen trees, but ever rushing, racing, roaring down
through gurgling gullies and filling the forest with its
delicious sound and freshness; the drinking places of
home returning herds; the mysterious haunts of squirrels and blue jays; the sylvan retreat of school boys,
who frequent it in the Summer holidays and mingle
their restless thoughts with its restless, exuberant, and
rejoicing stream."
Thus speaks Professor Longfellow, of one of the
prettiest elements in our native scenery. Our Roaring
Brook I think must be familiar to the poet. Indeed, it
is shrewdly suspected that it is the original of that
where Churchill and Kavanagh passed so delightful a
day with Cecilia, Alice, and the schoolmaster's wife; if
not, it might very well have been.
Issuing from  Lake Ashley, it comes leaping and
dashing down the deep and rocky ravine, smiling in
sunshine and glooming in shade, - all the while roaring in a way fully to justify its noisy cognomen, —




THE HAMLET.                 29
although I cannot help thinking that it would be more
poetic to call it the " Lion Brook," which would include
in the metaphor its shaggy mane of forest trees, and
the gaping jaws of the gorge, - which, by the bye, we
once christened the "jaws of darkness," to the fierce
indignation of a fair friend.
One warm October day, a three mile walk brought
us to a smiling and fertile valley, which lies just without the mouth of the Tories' Gorge, through which
our Roaring Brook comes tumbling down. We were
charmed by the cheerful aspect of the farm-houses,
which were here gathered into a neat and handsome
hamlet. From the courteous and intelligent manner of
the people, we were not surprised to learn that their
village was within the limits of the town of Lenox.
So gaily the sunshine fell upon the shorn fields, so
cheerily the husbandmen were employed in completing
their harvesting, and such a genial spirit of plenty
seemed to pervade the whole scene, that we were
tempted to commit the sentimental folly of calling it
the "happy valley."
Following a bye-path kindly pointed out to us, and
guided by the sounds of the Brook, we soon entered the
dark shades of the gorge, through which it comes leaping impatiently from fall to fall, for five weary miles,
until it loses itself in the winding Housatonic. It must
be a sweet relief to the water- vexed and wearied by
its rough passage among the sharp angled flint rocks,
and by its arduous labors in turning mill wheels - thus
to repose at length in the flower bordered bed of the
river, and wander about the meadows, in what leisurely
and graceful curves it will.




30                 TAG-HCONIC.
The change from the cheerful light of the hamlet to
the wild and beautiful solitude within the gorge, is strikingly impressive.  From the shadeless field you enter
upon overarched paths, - among mossy trees, tall, precipitous cliffs, and broken, topling crags. The heart
feels the change instantly, and conforms itself instinctively to it.
Here we find those adamantine blocks of flint-rock
which characterize and rudely adorn this whole mountain range. Sometimes they lie confusedly upon the
mountain's steep slope, then again they impede the
rushing course of the brook. In the bed of the stream
the ever-rolling current, in the course of ages, has polished and rounded even these obdurate masses. It is
startling to think by how many years of constant attrition the soft flowing wave has accomplished its purpose.
How many centuries ago did the savage stoop to drink
at this mountain stream, and think of nothing but the
cooling draught- least of all that the smooth, gliding
fluid was bearing away a portion of the solid rock
whereon he stood, to form a soil for a conquering race!
Yet here, two thousand years ago, Nature kept some
million tons of water at work, to add a few ounces in
the year to what should be the farm of her true worshipper -Oliver Wendell Holmes.  Meanwhile the
poet's ancestors were roasting people at Stonehenge, by
great baskets'-full, - far less mindful than Mother Nature of their witty and polished descendant.
Upon either side the ravine these rocks are piled up
on the hill sides in the maddest confusion, - with crevices and dens between and beneath them, which in former days may have afforded accommodation for a whole




THE TORIES.                 31
city of wild beasts. I wearied myself with seeking
among them *for one cavern, which tradition says in
revolutionary times afforded shelter to the hunted Tories.
I might have saved myself some trouble and chagrin,
by paying closer attention to my directions, for I could
not satisfy myself of its locality, and was afterwards
informed that it is not on the hill-side at all, but under
the road over which I passed, - and although likely to
escape observation, perfectly easy of access when you
once know the way.
One of the Tories -thus driven out to make their
homes among wild beasts -must nevertheless have
been a kind man at heart. They tell a touching incident of him, that, when concealed in some hiding place
at home, he made his wife cause all his children to pass
daily before a crevice, which supplied him with light
and air, that he might see their innocent faces, and
know that no harm had befallen them.
With all the harshness which it was deemed necessary by the Whigs to visit upon them, and with all the
odium which still clings to their memory, I cannot help
thinking that many of the loyalists were good, wellmeaning, God-fearing men,- although we cannot doubt
that the majority were moved by craven and selfish
considerations, and that all were miserably mistaken.
It is a mistake very easily discovered now.
Some of the anecdotes which remain of the Tories,
among our Berkshire traditions, are very honorable to
their character as men. There are two, which I heard
from two of our most eminent and learned citizens, and
which they received from the best authority — I believe
from the late venerable Judge Walker - which are so




32                 TAGHCONIC.
well authenticated and so characteristic that I shall tell
them both —although the latter I think I saw, many
years ago, in print - and with a few variations, in unimportant particulars.
In the early part of the Revolution there lived in
Lenox a staunch old Tory, who openly professed his
allegiance to King George, and his hostility to the
rebel cause; but, as he confined his opposition to words,
and was greatly respected and beloved by his fellow
citizens, for his many excellent qualities as a friend and
neighbor, he was allowed for a long while to enjoy his
opinions unmolested. But the contest between England
and the Colonies waxed every day more bitter, and the
Committee of Safety began to be troubled with doubts
if it were consistent with their duty to permit one who
so loudly vaunted his toryism to live among them, and
encourage others to commit outrages of which he would
not be personally guilty.
The matter was often a subject of deliberation, but
the committee were reluctant to act. At length, however, in some dark and trying hour,- perhaps in the
bitterness of defeat, perhaps after hearing of the horrors of Wyoming - they resolved to move. Paying a
visit at once to the Tory, they informed him they had
come to the conclusion that his example was too pernicious to the cause of Liberty to be any longer permitted. They regretted the circumstance, but their duty
was imperative; in short, he must take the oath of
allegiance to the Colonies - or swing.
The oath was peremptorily and unhesitatingly refused; and the next step was an extemporaneous gallows, erected in the public street, beneath which the




TEE OLD TORY.                33
recusant was placed, and the rope tightened around his
throat, but immediately loosened and the oath again
proffered, and again declined.
All arguments and threats proving abortive, the contemptuous loyalist was again drawn up, and left to
hang until he became purple in the face, - care being
taken to lower him and apply restoratives, before life
was extinct. Consciousness being once more restored,
the oath was again tendered, and he was entreated to
yield to the necessity of the case, but his stubborn
spirit was not yet broken; he refused to renounce his
allegiance to the Crown.
Things were now coming to a crisis; the committee,
who probably were by this time sorry they had taken
the matter in hand, retired for consultation. It -was
resolved that, to retreat after going so far as they had
done, would weaken their authority, and that the good
of the cause required that the prisoner should take the
oath, or suffer death for his contumacy.
The loyalist received their decision with unflinching
determination not to yield a hair's breadth in what he
believed to be the right. The committee were equally
resolved, and he was again drawn up, —perhaps with
some angry violence. At once the limbs stiffened; the
arms hung down; it seemed the work of death was too
faithfully done. Probably the committee had not intended to carry the matter to such an extreme; if they
did, such a sight might well have brought back their
old affection for a tried friend and kind neighbor.
They hastened to cut down the body, and use every
effort to undo their fatal work.
There seemed at first little hope of reanimating the
3




34                 TAGHCONIC.
senseless clay; but at length the limbs slightly relaxed
their rigidity, the eyes moved, and the livid hue began
to disappear from the cheek. Consciousness slowly
and painfully returned; the victim sat upright, — and
the question was again asked: "Will you swear?"
" Yes," faintly responded the half-dead convert to patriotism.
A few moments afterwards, as he was sitting before
the tavern fire, warnling his limbs chilled by so dangerous an approach to the "icy realm," he was heard to
mutter, thoughtfully to himself, —" Well! this is a
hard way to make Whigs - but it'll do it! "
And accordingly, from that day to the close of the
war, he was one of the most zealous and unwavering
of the patriots.
The other anecdote illustrates still more remarkably
the same trait of unflinching regard to rectitude.
It seems that at some time during the Revolution
one Gideon Smith, of Tyringham-a romantic and
beautiful town in the south of Berkshire- was accused
of the crime of high treason, of which there could be
no doubt he was guilty. The trial was to be at Springfield, but the court did not sit for some weeks, - during
which interval Smith was confined in the Berkshire
County gaol,- but, unwilling to waste the time in idleness, he applied to the Sheriff for permission to go out
daily to work, promising to return faithfully to the
prison every night. So well was the Tory's character
for integrity established, that, although he was committed on a capital charge, and did not deny the facts
alleged against him, the Sheriff did not hesitate to
comply with his request; and so well was that con



A TORY'S INTEGRITY.            35
fidence deserved, that the prisoner never failed to
return to his quarters punctually every night, to be
locked up.
What follows is a still stronger proof of the reliance
placed upon his word. The court was to be held at
Springfield, and the journey to it was then a weary
one, over rough forest roads. Smith was the only prisoner to be carried on, and the Sheriff complained bitterly of the trouble to which he was subjected, particularly at this busy season of the year. The Tory told
him that it was quite unnecessary for him to go -he
could go just as well by himself; and again he was
trusted, and set out alone and on foot, to go fifty miles
through the woods to surrender himself to be tried for
his life, upon a charge where he could not hope for an
acquital, and by a tribunal whose right to judge him he
denied. Surely, if ever a man had an excuse to palliate a violation of confidence, it was he; the idea,
however, seems never to have occurred to him.
Luckily for him, on his way he was overtaken by
the Hon. Mr. Edwards, then a member of the executive council, to attend a session of which body he was
then on his way to Boston. This gentleman entered
into conversation with Smith, and, without disclosing
his own name or official position, learned the nature of
his companion's journey, and something of his history.
Pondering upon what he had heard, Mr. Edwards pursued his way to Boston; and Smith, trudging on, soon
reached Springfield, and surrendered himself, — was
tried; did not deny the facts alleged against him, and,
as a matter of course, was found guilty and condemned
to death.




36                TAGHCONIC.
In due course the petitions for the pardon of persons
under sentence of death were considered by the Honorable Council. After all had been read, Mr. Edwards
asked if none had been received in favor of one Gideon
Smith, of Tyringham. The reply was that there was
none; and a member of the council, who had been
present at the trial, remarked that the case was one -of
such undoubted and aggravated guilt, and the attachment of the criminal to the King's cause so inveterate,
that there could be no reason for granting a pardon in
this case, unless it was extended in every other.
Mr. Edwards, in reply, related his adventure with
Smith on the road, and also his story, which he had
taken pains to have substantiated by the Sheriff of
Berkshire. A murmur of admiration went round the
council board; it was unanimously agreed that such a
man ought not to die upon the gallows, and after some
brief discussion, an unconditional pardon was made out
and dispatched to Springfield.
The number of Tories in this region is said to have
been much greater than I used to suppose. The gorges
in the Taghconic range, between Hancock and Lanesboro', were favorite rendezvous with them. Previous
to one battle - I think that of Bennington -just one
half of one company deserted the Continental standard
and joined the enemy. Probably they considered their
position, after the engagement, more astonishing than
agreeable.
Yet, as I said, the anecdotes just repeated show, what
common sense would lead us to expect, that there were
good men and well-wishers to their country in the loyalist ranks. The worst cause is never without good




LOYALTY.                  37
men among its partizans, nor the best without bad. It
must be so while reason dwells side by side in the soul
with prejudice.
When sides had once been taken, in the dim light of
the dawning struggle the rights and wrongs of things
did not so clearly appear to men, blinded by the heat of
passion, as to us in the calmness of after years, and
with all the light of experience. Besides, powerful
motives-too little taken into account in the great
aggregate - influence individual minds with irresistible
force. One is descended from a long line of loyal ancestors, and the idea is interwoven with his whole life
that his first duty to God and man is to maintain the
family honor untarnished by rebellion. It may be a
false, very false notion, but it has had its thousand martyrs in other days. Another has received some loyal
boon that binds him - if of a generous nature - for
ever to the cause of the giver. Another was taught
by a long lost mother to fear God and honor the King;
and still he hears her gentle accents repeat the timehonored prayer, " God save the King."
These may be thought weak and unworthy motives,
to be weighed in the balance against a nation's welfare,
yet they did exist, and we cannot altogether despise or
hate those who, in obedience to them, took part even
against our own liberty, and bore the loathed name of
Tory.
3*




CHAPTER IV.
PONTOOSUC LAKE AND ROLLING ROCK.
0 THOU most rare day in June, whose rain of golden
moments fell so preciously by the green borders of
Pontoosuc! There shall be few like thee, in the gladdest Summer month!
With L. and two other friends from the dear TriMountain city, I went that faultless morning to pass
the "lee lang Simmer day" by the clear waters of
our favorite mountain lake, - the popular favorite, for,
fair as it is, I confess that it has one rival in my own
breast. But this is beautiful enough to satisfy any
desire. There can be no finer approach to a fine scene
than that by which you reach Pontoosuc, - of which,
by the bye, the true Indian name was Schoon-keekmoon-keek. Passing the neat and tasteful manufacturing village, you enter a piece of winding willow-shaded
road, on the left of which the ground descends steeply
to the rocky bed of the river, which a few rods further
on falls in a cataract, whose worst fault is that it is
artificial. One not too finically fastidious might find it
worthy a moment's notice.
Then comes the blue surface of the lake, in mirror
like smoothness, or sparkling in light, —broken only
by a pair of emerald islets. You catch your first view




PONTOOSUC LAKE.                39
of the water between hills covered with a magnificent
growth of pine; with, upon one side, here and there an
elm and beech. As you pass through these woody
portals, the view expands; the farther shore of the
lake rises gradually into hills, until afar off in the west
it terminates in the graceful Taghconics, - every summit of which, on a calm, clear day, is mirrored undistorted in the unruffled water. On the north the long
valley stretches away until it finds its barriers in the
double peaks of Greylock. You will pause, as we did,
by the two trees which stand in brotherly union on the
green lawn-like slope of the eastern bank of the lake,
and admire the almost artistic arrangement of the
stately grove of pines, the single elm, and the twin oaks
and hemlocks.
Driving slowly along the road, with the gently rippling waters upon our left, and the cool evergreen
grove upon our right, we stopped here and there, to
gather splendid bouquets of the scarlet columbine, and
to listen to the chorus of the birds, that joined with
most melodious energy in the songs of M. and F.
At the end of the lake, sending our carriage before,
we retraced our steps, lingering by the pebbly shore to
listen to the little dashings of the wavelets, which
simultaneously reminded us all of the beatings of the
great billows on the rocky Atlantic shore, one other
Summer day. It was singular, this mimicking of the
great sea by the little mountain loch. F. said it reminded her how she was once startled by recognising
the tones of a distinguished orator in the lispings of
his infant grandson.
As we stood here, we espied across the water a tiny




40                 TAGHCOONIC.
grove, well known to all our lovers of pic-nic. This
we determined to honor by making it our bower for the
morning, and we soon established ourselves under its
shade, with L.'s flute, F.'s guitar, and a plentiful supply
of creature comforts. There, with music, poetry, dining,
and more indefinable pleasures, we passed five hours,
which are not lightly to be forgotten in lives which
have few such. I need not describe to you all our lake
side joys. Go thither upon such a day and in such
company, and, if you do not find them out, never go
again.
There are fanciful legends about this lake; one of
which is admirably told by Rev. Dr. Todd. There is
a superstitious tale, also, that a shadowy bark with a
shadowy boatman is sometimes seen to glide over its
midnight waters, darting from point to point, as if in
search of that which it is doomed never to find. What
it is this restless phantom  seeks- whether lost love or
hidden foe, I do not think that legends tell. I have
often passed that way at the "witching hour of night;"
some times when the pale moonbeams threw their
ghastly light all over the waters, and shrieks and howls
were heard, which it was past my zoology to assign to
any beast, bird, or reptile, - sometimes when the fishing skiffs, with the red glare of their torches, looked
sufficiently infernal, -but, for the phantom boatman, I
cannot rightly say I ever caught sight of his ghostship.
When the day had a little declined, we resolved to
extend our excursion. A mile or so to the north there
is a'very extraordinary natural curiosity. In a grove
upon the land of SOCRATES SQUIRES, Esq., is a large
egg shaped stone, weighing many tons. This titanic




ROLLING ROCK.                  41
mass is so nicely balanced upon a pivot of a few inches
width, that, although to the eye one side appears more
than doubly to outbalance the other, through all convulsions and commotions of Nature, it remains unmoved and immovable.  How this singular rock came
perched in its present position, and how it maintains its
equilibrium, there must remain a secret. The wise
ones guess it to be a relic of the Flood, but are divided
in opinion whether the rushing waters found it in its
present position and merely washed away the surrounding earth, or whether they tore it from  some distant
native bed, and set it up here as a trophy of their victorious career. There were too many matters of absorbing interest pressing upon the people of that days
for them to take note even of so extraordinary a pebble
as this. There is a tradition extant that this was used
by the aborigines for one of their sacrifice rocks. —I
do not know upon what authority it rests, but it is well
enough to believe it, if you can. One thing is certain,
the anomalous nature of this rock never disturbed their
simple meditations; they had a ready solution for all
such problems, - it was the work of the Great Spirit.
To this singular rock we came, on that beautiful
afternoon in June. Passing again the lake side, we
turned off by a cross road towards the west, and rolled
through a quiet, rural country, whose fields and cattle,
even where houses and barns, seemed as much in exuberant enjoyment of the day as ourselves.
"Every clod feels a stir of might,An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, grasping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;




42                  TAGHCONIC.
The flash of life may well be seen
Thrilling back, over hills and valleys;
The cowslip startles in meadows green;
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there's never a leaf or a bud too mean
To be some happy creature's palace."
LOWELL.
We found a splendid view in various directions, from
a hill on this road. The Lake has a wilder picturesqueness from this point than from any other, and the view
in front of the Taghconics is very fine.
When the sun wanted an hour of his setting, we
passed a few scattered chesnut trees and entered the
grove where is concealed our sphinx.  M. rushed to it
with a merry laugh, declaring she would push the monster from the seat he had kept longer than was right.
Her gay, fairy-like figure pressed against the rude, grey
mass with such mimic might, reminded me of a task
assigned, in some elfin tale, to a rebellious hand-maiden
of Queen Mab.
We had a little intellectual amusement in deciphering the names of innumerable Julias and Carolines,
Rosalinds, Janes, and " Roxany Augustys," inscribed
by affectionate jack-knives, upon the bark of the surrounding trees. Some classic gentleman, dolefully destitute of a doxy, had inscribed among them the words,
"1 IEMNOoN," and " PEUCINIA." I have since heard the
story of the merry hour when "Memnon" was inscribed, by a hand which has written many a witty and
clever volume. Indeed, indeed there must have been
a deal of witchery in the cunning priestess who made
that stern old rock breathe such mysterious and enchanting music. I wonder if ever there was anything




ROLLING ROCK.                     43
in that broken champagne bottle which lay at the foot
of the rock.
When we had clambered with a world of pains on
to the top of the rock, we, too, had music- merry and
sad -  "music at the twilight hour."  Then, as the
evening shades deepened in the wood, came low spoken
words of memory and of longing for those far away.
Alas! if all whom we invoked had come, the grave
and the sea must have given up its dead.
With voices softened and mellowed by deeper feeling, my companions sang an "Ave Maria," and we
bid farewell, not gaily, to a scene mysteriously consecrated by memories not its own. So, often, in scenes
and hours when we invoke the ministers of joy, other
spirits arise in their places, and we do not bid them
down.
NOTE. In the town of New Marlboro', about twenty miles south
of Pittsfield, is one of those curious freaks of nature, a true rocking stone - which the " rolling rock " is not. It is a stone weighing several tons, so balanced upon another that while the slightest
touch causes it to oscillate, the greatest force which can be applied, short of lifting its entire weight, will not remove it from its
pivot. Similar stones found in the Scottish highlands, have provoked much fierce discussion among the Savans. The naturalists
claiming them for their kingdom, as a work of Nature, and the
antiquarians as stoutly maintaining that they were remains of
ancient druidical art. I believe the contest is still feebly maintained, although the discovery of similar rocks in Siberia and
America might be supposed to put it at rest. There can be no
doubt that the Druids used them like other marvels of nature, to
work upon the superstition of their dupes, and it is not unlikely
the same may be true of the Indian conjurers.
In this same town of New Marlboro' is a lakelet called the
Hermit's Pond, from a certain recluse who took up his residence




44                   TAGHCONIC.
by its side, some six years before the breaking out of the war of
the Revolution, and there lived until the year 1813, when worn out
with infirmity and old age - alone and unattended-he died as he
had lived; for he forbade any to remain with him even for a
single night. The village gossips thought they found a solution
of the mystery of his life, in his inveterate hatred of women, and
his continually repeated remark of them, " They say they will
and they wont."
The good clergyman, who tells this anecdote, adds: "Let none
smile at the story of Timothy Leonard; " but for the life of me
I can't help it, even though he be " not the only one who has
suffered disappointed hope and mortified pride to blot out the
social affections and produce wretchedness, misery and ruin."
There is something particularly funny in the idea of a man so
thoroughly unsophisticated as to think it strange that women
should " say they will when they wont." Why, therein lies the
very essence of female liberty.




CHAPTER V.
LEBANON SPRINGS. — A DASH AT LIFE THERE.
DOWN in the hilly valley beyond the mountains is
Lebanon - New Lebanon - the capital of the Shakers;
the seat of the Mineral Springs; the most delightful
of watering places; and our Gretna Green. All the
world knows Lebanon, but how much of it, about as
accurately as the gentleman who, upon the morning
after his arrival desired to be shown'"the cedars, for
which he had been told the place was famous! "
This watering place is a very Mecca for Summer
pilgrims, who, soon as Greylock takes off his Winter
cap, flock to it in crowds, -some with the quiet matterof-course air of annual visitors; others, catching a feverish impulse from the city miasma, and rushing away
like mad, to flirt with Nature and Hygeia, at the
Springs.
It were a curious study to enquire what brings each
individual here; but, unfortunately for psychological
science, the sojourners at fashionable hotels are neither
so communicative nor so docile as the amiable occupants of our public prisons, who never refuse to answer
the questions of statistical temperance agents, and nine
times out of ten give the very reply which is expected
of them. But, lamentable as is this habit of secretiveness, which our fashionables absurdly cherish, we have
4




46                 TAG-HC ONIC.
a ready resource in that supreme faculty for guessing,
which makes us Yankees, from Emerson to Andrew
Jackson Davis, the incomparable philosophers of the
Universe.
It is a pleasant and profitable recreation to exercise
this precious faculty of a lazy Summer afternoon on
the long verandahs of Columbia Hall. Laziness is the
mother of Philosophy. There are some hundreds of
human beings scattered about the huge hotel; most of
whom may be supposed to have had some motive in
coming here, and to have some notion, more or less
definite, of the nature of the place and the part they
are to play in it. Perhaps, however, we may get as
near to what that notion really is, by a tolerably shrewd
guess, as by personal enquiry, - which latter mode of
proceeding might also be deemed impertinent; secretiveness being the soul of civilized life. Let us guess,
then.
It is easy enough to understand that the student-looking young man, with an orange colored face and sea
green spectacles, thinks he has got into an enormous
hospital, or perhaps only a mammoth apothecary's
shop. He deems those gorgeous, flaunting dames, of
whose bright presence he is rather vaguely conscious,
of no more real value -since they will not nurse his
invalidship - than the colored waters in the apothecary's window opposite.
Those gay ladies themselves, of course, view the
matter in a very reverse light. Take one of them, for
example - that flirting, chatting, jewelled thing, Madame, the wife of the TWall Street millionaire. WVith
both those clear orbed eyes wide open, she can see




THE VISITORS.                47
little in this magnificent panorama of hill and valley,
and in this its life-throbbing heart, more than a splendid
ball-room, or gorgeous saloon, - as indeed, for that
matter, she would like the wide, wide world to be,and is vastly annoyed that misery, with her discordant
shrieks and disgusting deformities, should presume to
spoil the music and mar the decorations.
Look again. You would call yonder a frank, free
hearted, undesigning girl. I-ear with what joyous,
summerly forgetfulness she throws off those snatches
of unstudied song; and see how ingenuously the blush
rises in her cheek, now she remembers that she is not
alone. You would not dream now — would you? —that
she looks upon this fair spot only as a mart in which she
is to dispose of that dear little commodity - herself — to
the best possible advantage?  Yet I'll wager you a
small farm I have in the clouds, that every note of
that outgushing melody was aimed, point blank, at the
handsome gentleman who has been conversing, this two
hours past, with the pale girl in black. I only hope
the minstrel will not be malicious enough to say, the
pale girl is "setting her cap " for the handsome gentleman.
Why don't she turn her thought to drive away
the cloud which has settled in the eye of the gloomybrowed man who is pacing the verandah so heavily?
Bless us! the Summer sunshine glances off from
him, and leaves not a trace of light; he has never
sold his shadow to Satan. Yet I misdoubt; and so we
go on, doubting and misdoubting, guessing and misguessing, sure enough — if we would consider it —of two
things; that we shall always hit wide enough of the




48                 TAGHCONIC.
mark, and never too near the charitable side of it.
" Wise judges are we, of each other's actions!"
This Lebanon is not without its vein of romance.
How could it be, when youth and age, folly and wisdom, joy and sorrow, love and hatred, life and death,
make it their yearly rendezvous? How strange a rendezvous, oft-times!  Of those who seek here new
thought, new hope, new feelings, how many find only
what they bring - a jaded mind and a palsied heart?
Mind cramped to the puny pursuit of puny things will
not always, upon the mountains, expand and glow with
the widening horizon and the purer sunlight. Passion,
born luxuriously in the crowded city, grows and
strengthens, and will not die in the bracing upland air.
Yet is there forgetfulness of lighter woes and less corroding cares, in the gay saloons and woodland drives,
as well as marvellous virtue for the diseased body in
the bubbling waters and fresh breezes? Care-worn
men and women worn with ennui, do get new elasticity
of thought and frame; but in what do they seek a balm
for the wounded spirit, who bring hither the broken
hearted also, - like thee, fair and gentle L., - or was
it that thy pure spirit might wing its way to Heaven
through purer skies than overhang thy native city?
I said Lebanon had its vein of romance. A bachelor friend of mine, who has been a lounger at Columbia Hall every Summer these ten years past, has a rich
fund of stories - humorous, melo-dramatic, and tragical -about those who have fluttered, flattered, flirted,
and flitted here in that time. With him, half the
Demoiselles who have " made their market" under his
eye, are heroines of a quality which would surprise




OUR FRIEND'S STORY.            49
themselves not a little to know, and their husbands a
good deal more. It is often a matter of discussion with
us, whether, among other connubial revelations, the arts
and devices whereby he was entrapped are usually disclosed to the husband. In the absence of data from
which to conclude, we always end in the same mists in
which we set out. One of my bachelor friend's stories
I will venture to repeat, although I perceive it loses
half its flavor, for lack of the gusto with which he
would dwell upon it.
Mike moulb be a ientleman's Wife.
".-MAore beauty than ever at L. this year," I remarked
to my friend, as we sat together one evening, about a
year since; it was a common observation, and I thought
myself particularly safe in repeating it.
"Hey! what's that you say?" he ejaculated, after
a pause, in which it seemed my words had been following him far down into the depths of reverie. " More
beauty than ever at L.! Let me tell you, my dear
fellow, that you know nothing at all of the matter.
It's one of the stupid common-places of stupid common
people." I'bowed to the compliment, and the bachelor
went on with a half sigh, "Ah! you should have
known us in the reign of the bitter and beautiful Lizzie
B., or in that of the wonder-working Mrs. M."
Here the bachelor again relapsed into reverie, and I
had time to remark to myself that this hankering after
faded flowers, when the world was full of fresh, was an
ugly symptom that my friend's own hey-day of beaudom
must be on the wane. When people begin to complain
4*




50                 TAGHCONIC.
that they can find no beauty, now-a-days, like that
which they used to meet, look if they do n't wear wigs,
and other falsities of decoration.
" But the most charming season," resumed the bachelor, emerging again into the present, "was that of
184-, when Kate L. was in the ascendant. She was
far enough from beautiful, was MSrs. L., but such a
winsome way she had with her that we all, to a man,
acknowledged her sceptre, - and the most dazzling
belle in her realm was ready to die with envy; envy,
by the bye, was a vice Mrs. L. was especially free
from. Never was woman more ready to recognise and
exhibit the charms of her rivals. She surrounded her
throne with a constellation of lovely women from far
and near, and would let none be eclipsed. A kindhearted creature was she, and a sensible to boot; a
tithe part the jealousy we endured from the splendid
Lizzie B. would have made Kate look as ugly as a
Bornese ape.
" But it was of her throne maidens that I was going
to boast. I wish you could have looked in upon one
of our gala nights; we have none such now - (that,
entre nous, was a fib of the bachelor's). There was a
floral ball we had one night in July, — I have some
reason to remember it, but no matter, - Mrs. L. had
made more than usual exertions in getting up this festival, which was the opening one of the season. The
arrangements were perfect; — the floral decorations
unique and profuse; the music superb; and the supper
just what it should be. But our Lady Patroness was
too true a genius to give to these concomitants the monopoly of her attention. With a magic little crow




COUSIN NELL.                51
quill by way of wand, she summoned from all manner
of retreats the most brilliant assemblage of fair women
and distinguished men that I have ever beheld; and
when Mrs. L. summoned youth and beauty, you might
be sure there was something to be done. I am going
to leave them to do it, while I tell you of my cousin
Ellen, the fairest of them all.' You remember Nell- my uncle Fred's Nell —
the merriest girl that ever hid deep design under careless laugh. Uncle Fred., you must know, left her an
orphan, at twenty, - with exquisite accomplishments,
unrivalled tact, and four thousand dollars, with which
to make her way in the world, as she best might. Her
guardian - a staid, business-like old gentleman, guardian to half the heiresses in the county, as well - when
her year of mourning was over, advised her to buy a
share in a boarding-school, and earn her living by
teaching.' With your accomplishments and talents,
my dear,' - the good, fatherly old man was going on,
when he was astonished to find his pretty ward cutting
short his speech with -
"' With my accomplishments and talents, my dear
guardian, I don't intend to squeeze my brain like a
lemon, to give flavor to some insipid school girl, while
I might as well be rivalling her mamma. No! I'll
invest in- a husband!'- and here her little foot came
down with a will.
"The guardian stared; but he was too sensible a
man to oppose a woman whose will was up; and so,
under the nominal chaperonship of his wife, Ellen
opened her first campaign at Lebanon.
" That night of the floral fete, she stood in the centre




52                 TAGHCONIC.
of an admiring group, - a slight, aerial figure, but full
of elastic life and vigor; her face transparent with
changing light, and her eye overflowing with a flood of
love and laughter.  She was dressed with wonderful
artistic skill; for the life of me I could not imagine
how she contrived to arrange her mist-like drapery so
that she seemed always on the point of rising into air.
I have since heard that it is no mystery among mantuamakers. Among the crowd of women, laden and overladen with all kinds of flowers, native and exotic, Nell
had only twisted in her hair a few snowy, star-shaped
blossoms, - the spoil of a mountain excursion. Not a
fold of her robes, not a tress on her head but seemed
too spiritual for mortal touch. I have since learned
that the artistes call this style of dress, c la Gabrielle.
It is a triumph of genius; but I would not advise any
lady weighing over two hundred to try it.
"Frank Leigh was conversing with my etherial
cousin in a composed tone, and with a gaze of mere
earthly admiration which I could not then have assumed
for the world, although Nell and I had been playmates
fiom infancy.  I almost shuddered —so strangely had
the fancy possessed me - when Frank took her hand,
to lead her to the piano, lest she should indeed prove a
spirit, and dissolve into thin air.
cc' Ellen should be a gentleman's wife,' said a pretty
and brilliant widow, by my side.
"Wife! so she was human.' A gentleman's wife,'
I repeated aloud,'and pray what is a gentleman?and why should Ellen, more than another, be a gentleman's wife?'
"' Why,' replied the widow, laughing,' a gentleman,




FRANK LEIGH.                 53
in Ellen's vocabulary, is a man of elegant manners,
with at least one hundred thousand dollars, and a disposition to spend his income in graceful and fashionable
follies. Ellen's expensive tastes demand such a husband -and I hope she may get him.'
"' Oh, now I am enlightened,' I said.
"' I am glad to hear it,' rejoined the widow, merrily.
But, come with me out into the balcony, and I'll let
you into a secret or two.'
"'Of course, such an offer was not to be resisted;
and before we returned, I was put in possession of
much recherchd gossip, known only to the initiated.
"There had come that year to the Springs, a fine
looking young man, - generous, spirited, of captivating
address, and great reputed wealth — Frank Leigh by
name; the same who was in attendance upon my cousin
Ellen at the floral fete. Of course such a God-send
was not to be neglected by anxious mothers, and daughters no less anxious. Mrs. L., finding him clever, fond
of sport, and prompt to forward all her gay schemes,
had taken him up at once, and installed him her prime
minister. Ellen, I need not say, was quite as ready to
acknowledge his merits.
" Frank was universally declared to be a'sweet
man,' in the ball-room  and drawing-room; but he was
not a bit of a dandy; there was nothing of the exclusively ladies' man about him, nothing effeminate in his
habits. On the contrary, his tastes were eminently
manly. He had yachted on the Atlantic coast, hunted
moose in a Maine Winter, and even taken a run after
buffaloes into the Sioux country. Here, among the
quiet hills, his exuberant spirits found vent in a passion




54                   TAGIICONIC.
for wild horsemanship.  Jehu was a child to him, with
the whip; he was sure always to choose some unmanageable foal of gunpowder, that nobody else would
come within a rod of; men, even of strong nerves,
were of opinion that safer pleasures existed than a seat
beside Frank Leigh, on one of his break-neck drives;
and as for the women, not a soul of the dear creatures,
who would have given their eyes to secure him for a
partner at the last night's ball, could be persuaded to
trust their ivory necks with him and his' Lightning'
next morning.
"To all this was one most remarkable exception -
my brave cousin Nell, who had come out all at once:
perfect Di. Vernon.  Ah! but it was an inspiriting
sight, to see her mounted on her brown steed, leading
her panting admirers an aimless race over fields, brakes,
briers, and fences, till half the chase forswore all pursuit of her, thereafter.
"'But Nelly's favorite seat was in Frank's light
buggy, of which she enjoyed undisputed possession —
her rivals thinking it a particularly'bad eminence.'
Of course she was the constant companion of our Jehu,
and a fit one, as it looked. Travellers marvelled enviously, as Frank's chariot dashed by them, to hear
Nelly's clear, ringing laugh, or rattling song; or even
at times to see her slight figure braced back, her loose
curls flying, and her little hands holding fast the'lines,' while she urged the foaming horses to yet more
impossible speed;-'Like a dream doth it seem,
When I think of the past;
Up the road gallantly dashing along,
Driving two noble steeds, square built and strong;




COUSIN NELL.                 55
Firmly her little hands grasping the reins,
Held them as firmly as lovers in chains.'
"I think the echoes of her merry voice must linger
yet among the old woods which skirt the Hancock road.
Sure I am that the dwellers in the road-side farm
houses yet remember Frank Leigh's dashing equipage,
and the gay couple with whom it used to fly by their
doors, at such flashing speed.
"Beside his equestrian fancies Frank was exceedingly prone to romantic excursions, and by the aid of
the good natured Mrs. L., who was nothing loath, led us
upon a hundred wild adventures among the hills, to the
great detriment of patent leather and superfine broadcloth.  Here, too, Nell was the co-leader with the
rattle-brain heir; never a ramble ended until she had
joined him in some mad-cap feat or another.
"All this you may be sure gave ample room and
verge enough for bitter tongues; but the sage conclusion of one shrewd lady, that,'some folks could do
what other folks could n't,' soon came to be in substance
the universal sentiment.  Indeed, with all Nelly's
faults and follies, it was impossible, when you knew
her, to think her capable of anything very wrong.
"One opinion, at least, every body held, and that
was, that she was just the girl to charm Frank Leighand that she had charmed him to some purpose. Every
body but my friend the widow, who, while she admitted
the boldness and vigor of Ellen's attack, had a doubt or
two as to its success.'Ellen,' said the widow,'has a
splendid genius for business, but very little experience.
Do you not notice that Frank of late, has another companion sometimes on his rides?'




56                TAGHCONIC.
"' What! the timid and femininly delicate Miss P.?'
"' The same; — and with what tender care he curbs
his speed when she is his companion?'
"' It is very kind and considerate of him; the jolts
and racing in which Ellen delights, would be the death
of Miss P. I am sure it is good in him.'
"' Oh, very! And yet is it not possible that she who
tames the steed may tame the master?'
"I admitted the noteworthiness of the fact, but
trusted to the genius and address of my fair kinswoman for a successful issue of her Summer campaign.
Indeed, as the season waned, her star seemed to rise
yet higher into the ascendant, while she relaxed no
whit of her zeal, but cut madder freaks, rode more
daringly, was more than ever the constant companion
of Frank, who, although he daily took a quiet drive
with Miss P., seemed more than ever devoted to her
dashing rival. Everybody said Frank had proposed,
was about to propose, or at least was in honor bound to
propose to my cousin. He was set down as certain of
the fair hands which so gracefully reined in his fiery
coursers. Only the widow shook her curls and Miss P.
said nothing.
" One bright morning in September, just before the
close of the season, Ellen was sitting in the drawing
room, surrounded as usual by a group of loungers, -
among whom were Mr. Vinton, a gentleman of singularly reserved and quiet manners, and said to be very
timid, — and a Miss Phoebe N., a young lady who, in
spite of nose and eyes equally awry with her temper,
was supposed to be about to seize the quiet gentleman,
vi et armis.




COUSIN NELL.                57
"' So Frank Leigh has taken us all by surprise, and
married,' said some one, joining the group.
"' Married!' No?'' You do n't mean it.'' HIow!'' When?'' To whom?' exclaimed a dozen voices at
once, —the speakers, of course, fixing their eyes considerately upon Nell, except Miss N., who was enabled
to turn only one of hers that way, but answered:
"'Oh, to that stupid Miss P. I saw them depart
this morning.'
"' I am sure you would not so speak, if you knew
her,' said Ellen, indignantly.'On the contrary, she is
a sweet, sensible, and witty girl.'
"'Rather too quiet for me,' mildly remarked the
very quiet Mr. Vinton.
"' I do n't see why you should defend her,' snarled
the amiable Phoebe to Ellen.'She has carried off the
prize we all assigned to you.'
"' To me!' exclaimed Ellen with real laughter and
well affected surprise;'I am sure I am much obliged
to you all. Frank is a noble fellow; but do you know
I should have an unconquerable aversion to being
rivalled by dogs and horses? - and of course' Lightning' and'Ney' will hold equal sway in Frank's
heart with his wife.'
"'But we,' began Miss N., with a malicious look -
"' But me no buts!' exclaimed Ellen, interrupting
her;'I would sooner marry a cobbler than a horsejockey, be he never so rich!'
"Mr. Vinton looked radiantly happy; Miss Phoebe
darkeningly the reverse, for it was her'one woe of
life' that her father had began his ascent to wealth in
the respectable calling of a cobbler. Ellen saw where
5




58                TAGHCONIC.
her shot hit, and then cast a penetrating glance at Vinton, in whose face she read more than she had suspected."
Here the bachelor paused for breath. "And so,"
said I, "Miss Ellen lost her Summer's work."
"Not at all," he replied resuming; "you shall hear.
Frank Leigh did not choose to fall in love with a
woman who rivalled him in the accomplishments of
which he was most proud. Even so sensible a fellow
as he had a spice of human vanity, — quite enough to
cause him to prefer Miss P., who admired his daring
feats, to Nelly, who demanded that he should admire
hers, and showed, moreover, to all the world that they
were not beyond the attainment of a very- slight-framed.woman. Besides, he could too readily understand all
that Nell felt, said, and did; it is not the near view
which charms.
"' Poor Vinton, however, looking on from a distance,
became every day more enamoured;- the qualities
which Ellen displayed proved so much the more fascinating from their very strangeness to his own nature.
But it is in vain to philosophize about these matters;
Vinton, like many a sensible fellow before and since,
contrived to get hopelessly into the meshes before he
thought of asking how; and the moment he saw the
field clear, he resolved to occupy the vacant lovership.
"Our light-hearted Ariadne I suspect was secretly
piqued at her desertion; at all events, she gave the
new lover a world of encouragement. Indeed, so rapidly did affairs advance, that the same afternoon Mr.
Vinton, in a tremor of fear, made a formal proposal, -
and was at once accepted. Still more to his joy, Ellen




THE CONCLUSION.               59
consented -if Miss Phaebe is to be believed, proposedthat the union should take place that same evening; that
soon after the demolition of her hopes, Ellen reached
their consummation, and was a'gentleman's wife."'
"A queer wooing," I said, when the bachelor had
concluded. " Was the result happy?"
"Why, the chances were rather against it," he replied; "but fate often treats us better than we would
ourselves. The result, I believe, was happy for both."
"And how about the widow and yourself?"
1"Is not that the moon rising yonder?" said the
bachelor.




CHAPTER VI.*
BERRY POND.
L -, Mlarch 22, 1852.
3Y DEAR S.: -
It is now many months since I promised you
an account of a ramble over one of your glorious mountains; and through all these changing moons my promise is unredeemed.
You may have forgotten it, - have at any rate despaired of its fulfilment. And perhaps, if I had remained in P., where the heaven-clad hills stand round
about, "as the mountains are round about Jerusalem,"
in the very presence of their ennobling majesty, I had
been too much awed for familiar description, too much
delighted for voluble utterance.
But here, with nothing in all the tame horizon but
dead sand plains, or faintly swelling hills, still more
lifeless in their weak aspiring; here, where nothing,
not even the church spires, are so near heaven as the
manufactory chimnies, - the awe-inspiring spell of the
mountains is broken, while their blue and cloud-like
summits, looming over the length of a state in the soft
mirage of memory, look lovelier, holier than ever.
* I am indebted for this Chapter to the kindness of a much esteemed and
very clever friend.




BERRY POND.                  61
As a votary, admitted to a costly shrine, stands
abashed, and fears to wake the sacred echoes with his
unhallowed voice, yet finds in its splendor and its
solemn images unfailing themes of story to eager listeners around his humble fire-side, —so I, an exile
from the hills I love so well, may exchange my awe
struck silence for rapturous speech, and grow garrulous
over scenes that once filled me with unutterable pleasure.
It was on a bright, still morning in the painted Autumn, that I started with a friend for Berry Pond.
Aye, that's the name. "I seek no purfled prettiness
of phrase," I accept no sickly appellation, borrowed
from other scenes, which'is thought to sound romantic
because unfamiliar, and which was originally noble
only because simple and unaffected.
Berry Pond! The name falls sweetly on the ear,
and fills the mind with images of cool and crystal
waters, and green and sloping shores. It is ringing
with the silver ripple of the mountain tarn; it is redolent of wild flowers, and sweet with pulpy fruits.
Berry Pond, however, does not derive its name from
the strawberries, the raspberries, the blackberries, and
the wintergreen berries, which, by their abundance in
its vicinity would justify the appellation; but from an
obscure, stout-hearted man, who once dwelt upon its
border, and wrung subsistence for a large family of
girls out of the margin of its rocky chalice. Honor to
him! and let this silver tablet, inscribed with his name,
perpetuate his memory as long as English is spoken on
the soil he trod!
We pursued our way, in the chill but serene November morning, towards the base of Hancock Mountain,
5*




62                TAGHCONIC.
near whose summit lay the object of our journey. Our
path was through obscure bye-roads, lined with the
dwellings of an industrious and frugal people, standing
amid clustering orchards, as if the venerable trees took
solemn interest in the drama going on within, and were
gathered there to witness it.
My companion was born in one of these abodes, and
had passed his life to its high meridian among them;
and his memory overflowed with story and incident of
merry, or serious, or sad adventure, which these quiet
looking homes had seen.
A right pleasant companion, this firiend of mine, with
his moving memories. An unaffected love of nature,
and a quick perception of her beauty and her grandeur,
joined to a warm heart and a lively sympathy with all
that told of human joy or sorrow, shone unconsciously
in his simple language and expressive face. It was
almost as well to be with him as to be alone with one's
imagination and the spirits of earth and sky; and more
cannot be said of mortal friend.
Diverging at last from the highway, we entered
through rustic bars upon the private road that winds up
the mountain. For a short distance we drove over a
level interval, at the mouth of the gorge through which
we were to pass; and here we came upon the site of a
dwelling, now marked only by the grass-grown cellar,
and the mossy and unfruitful trees that seemed to feel
alike the loss of human sympathy and human care.
These melancholy mourners around a darkened
hearth-stone, creatures of civilization as they were,
appeared incapable of receiving the quickening influence of sun and dew direct from the hand of God, like




BERRY POND.                 63
the savage trees that waved their outspread arms above
them, and waiting in vain for man's accustomed care,
to have pined away in moody sorrow.
Quickly passing this mournful spot, we entered the
ravine, down which a brooklet brawled, and began to
ascend the mountain by a narrow but excellent road,
cut with great labor in the steep hill side. Built to
bring down the timber from the summit, it seemed the
approach of an indomitable enemy to assault those
forest chieftains in their mountain fastness. It is indeed a noble work, and is eloquent of the determination and energy of its builder.
When we began our ascent, the burn was prattling
away in familiar accents close at hand. But rising
more rapidly than the bed of the channel, the tops of
stately trees rooted by the brook-side were soon waving
beneath us; and the mingling murmur of the leaves
and stream seemed the audible prayer of Nature.
Above us towered the solemn mountain; and the
lonely trees which the ruthless axe had spared, subdued
and chastened by bereavement, pointed calmly to the
sky, and with grave and reverend gesture beckoned us
ever upward; while the thoughtless dryads that covered the shorn mountain with a luxurious undergrowth,
sported jauntily their gay cashmeres of the latest Autumn style; and with modest shade, and glancing
sheen, and merry, tinkling music, invited pause and
dalliance.
But upward we ever went, along the steadfast road,
till on the one hand the rivulet again appeared close by
our side, having climbed the steepest part of the gorge
to overtake us, and looking faint and weary with the




64                 TAGHCONIC.
effort; and on the other the reposing mountain stretched
away with gentle and inviting slope, — like the easy
ascent of the good man's path, after the steep and toilsome struggle of youth is over.
Leaving our panting horse under a spreading beech,
we turned aside from the road, and walked a quarter
of a mile to the pond. The undulating ground over
which we went, now rugged with coarse ferns and bristling with wild and worthless shrubs, was once a smooth
shorn meadow; and all these silent fields, untended
and unfenced, once owned a blest allegiance to the arm
of toil, and ministered to human happiness. Here
rustic maidens spread the new mown grass, and hither
rustic wooers came to spend the Summer holiday. Yonder the serried rows of corn-hills, plainly hinted through
the faded grass, tell where the last harvest left its stubble, unmolested by the plough. There, where that
little mound swells gently from the valley, the sorrowing apple trees point out the spot where dwelt a departed household.
Like the Assyrian king turned into the desolate
fields; bearded with hoary moss, and shaggy with unkemped sprays, and gnarled and knotty with dead and
decaying boughs, they utter a mournful warning against
that rooted grief that seeks refuge in seclusion and
" lures us front society where we are safe, to snare us
in the solitary desert."
Yet there is something touching in the constancy of
these old trees, so unlike the fickle attachments of men.
Surely, the apple tree, and not the willow, should be
the emblem of enduring sorrow.
Musing thus, we silently moved onwards, till, on




BERRY POND.                 65
reaching the summit of a ridge, the lakelet burst upon
our vision, almost beneath our feet.
To me — a little in advance of my companion- it
was not at first comprehended; but, taking the color of
my reverie, it seemed another Heaven revealed beneath
the sod, as when I looked through tears into an open
grave, and saw my Heaven there.
But an exclamation of delight at my elbow, brought
out the object of my vision, from the profound into
which I had been gazing to the glassy surface, and the
heaven beyond the sphere became a 6rystal lake.
Nothing can exceed the beauty of this pond. Its
shores, for a narrow interval, slope gently towards it,
and then fall steeply away like the sides of a moulded
urn. Its margin is sometimes a beach of silvery sand
strewn with blocks of snowy quartz, and delicate,
fibrous looking mica; again grassy and green, even
now, to the water's edge; and yet again fringed with
long eyelashes of birch and hazle trees, that dreamily
gaze at their reflection in the mirror.
Its waters are clear and cool, and pleasant to the
taste; and with the breathing sky, robed in the candid
surplice of the clouds, bending in solemn benediction
over it, it seemed the sacramental chalice of nature,
and its crystal water, infused with Heaven's own form
and hue, seemed changed by a real transubstantiation
into the mystic life-blood of the Universe.
We had no need of language, for all that the scene
could tell was whispered to the heart of each; so we
strolled apart, and worshipped and enjoyed in silence.
Here was no meddling priest to thrust his speculative creed between me and my love to Heaven, and




66                 TAGUHCONIC.
reclining in oriental mood upon a mossy bank, which,
thick-spread with fragrant wintergreen, served at once
as couch and table, and incense altar, I lifted my heart
to God for absolution and blessing, and communed unforbidden.
Oh! not altogether unprofitable these secret musings
in the cloisters of the great cathedral.  By them
we learn to feel that God liveth not alone in history
and tradition, but in Nature also, and the world; that
He speaketh not alone in the Sinai-tones of his inspiration, but audibly, too, in the voices of his winds and
woods; that, indeed, " He is not the God of the dead,
but of the living."
The long, chill shadows of the low trees creeping
over me, admonished me to rise, and walking on until I
had made the circuit of the pond, I joined my friend
who had preceded me, and after pausing awhile to look
at the cloud-like blue of the distant Kaatskills, the burly
strength of the nearer Taghconic, and the wide panorama of hill and vale that spread between, all robed
with the richest colors of the iris, and bathed in the
rich, palpable light of the Indian Summer, that filled
the valleys to the mountain tops with molten topaz, we
turned us from the glory ere yet it had declined, and
homeward wound our thoughtful way.
The sun had set when we reached the village, and
the threadbare earth stood shivering in the cold and
dark, like an aged gentleman suddenly reduced from
affluence to want. But from my friend's door, as I
paused a moment to see him enter, there came a burst
of mingled light and warmth, like the sortie of a garri



BERRY POND.                  67
son to cover the entrance of a friend, and beat back the
beleaguring forces of the night.
O ye to whom the blessed haven of home opens
wide its friendly gates to shelter you from the Autumn
and the night, thank God the giver for all his blessings,
but chiefly for this; and for the rest of us, patience,
patience and courage! There shall be a haven for
us also.
Yours, Truly,
H.




CHAPTER VII.
THE WIZARD' S GLEN.
A FOUR miles' drive from our village brings the excursionist to a deep gorge, now called the " Gulf," but
known in the earlier and less sceptical days of the
settlement as the "Wizard's Glen."  It is the wildest
scene in our immediate neighborhood. A narrow valley is enclosed by steep hills, covered far up their sides
with the huge rectangular flint rocks which mark this
whole mountain range. You see them scattered every
where, from Greylock to Taghconic; but nowhere else
- unless, perhaps, at Icy Glen - piled up in such
magnificent and chaotic profusion. It is as though an
angry Jove had here thrown down some impious wall
of the Heaven-defying Titans. Block lies heaped upon
block, squared and bevelled, as if by more than mortal
art, for of such adamantine hardness are they, that never
hand nor implement of man could carve them into
symmetry.
In their desolation they seemed charmed to everlasting changelessness; storm and sunshine leave few
traces upon them; the trickling stream wears no channel in their obdurate surface; only a falling thunderbolt
sometimes splinters an uplifted crag, and marks its
course by a scar of more livid whiteness. No flower




WIZARD'S GLEN.                69
springs from, no creeping plant clings to them for support, save when the rare Herb Robert would fain cheer
them with his tiny blossom; or some starveling lichen
strives to shroud the livid ghastliness of their hues.
It is a stern featured place; and yet of a warm
Summer afternoon, one - no, not one, it is too intensely
sombre for that - but a party can pass a merry hour
there, in the cool depths of the ravine. There are
some books too, written in a spirit akin to the fantastic
and demoniac grandeur of the place, which can be
read there with a double zest. Perched between the
double angles of a cleft boulder, I once keenly enjoyed
some scenes in "Faust."  " Manfred" would not be
out of place there, nor would some parts of " Festus."
But the best is, to mark how the most humanly
merry laughter and the gentlest of gentle voices catch
a fiendish echo from the rocky hollows. There is
diablerie in the very air; the fairest form I ever knew,
as it rose from behind one of those enchanted rocks,
looked weird as Lilith, the first wife of Adam. Hecate herself could not have emerged from Hades with
half the infernal grace and beauty; I am sure the
place is bewitched.
Tradition indeed says that, before the decay of the
native tribes, - of whom a scanty remnant were found
by the white man in the valley of the Housatonic, —
this used to be a favorite haunt of the Indian Priests,
or Wizards. Here, it was said, they wrought their
hellish incantations, and with horrible rites offered up
human sacrifices to Ho-bo-mock-o, the Spirit of Evil.
One broad, square rock, which chanced to stand alone
in the midst of a conveniently clear space, had the
6




70                 TAGHCONIC.
credit of being the Devil's altar-stone. Some crimson
stains marked its upper surface, upon which the earlier
settlers could not look without a shudder.- They were
believed to come from the blood of frequent victims, —
although, now-a-days, a sceptic with no analysis at all
would find little difficulty in resolving them into " traces
of iron ore." For my part, until the analysis is made,
I hold fast to the older and better opinion of those who
believed that around this ensanguined shrine a spectral
crew of savage wizards nightly reenacted the revolting
orgies of the past.
I met, not long since, an old man of ninety Winters,
- perhaps the last believer in their superstitions. He
had heard the story of the shadowy sacrifices from an
eye-witness, and related it with a credulous simplicity
very difficult to gainsay.
Not far from the year 1770, (as he said,) one John
Chamberlain, a brave man and a mighty hunter, of
Ashuelot; (now Dalton,) at the close of a hard day's
chase, overtook and slew a deer, somewhere within the
Wizard's Glen. While he was dressing his quarry, a
terrific storm of thunder, lightning, and hail arose, —
as Chamberlain averred, with supernatural celerity,
as such often seem to do among the mountains. A
thunder-storm, even in the ordinary course, is not just
the thing to be coveted in this place, by the hardiest
deer slayer; but come what will, he must make the
best of it. Seeking out, therefore, a spot where the
rocks were piled one upon another, with cavernous
recesses that formed a sort of natural caravansary beneath, he drew his deer under one boulder and ensconced himself snugly under the shelter of another.




HIS SATANIC MAJESTY.            71
Thus protected, he betook himself to such slumbers
as he might get, which turned out to be not the most
peaceful. The thunder crashed, the lightning glared
and the wind howled in a manner which seemed to our
poor John altogether demoniacal. Sleep, in such a
hurly-burly of the elements, was out of the question;
so, raising himself up he looked out among the rocks,
as he could very well do by the aid of the scarcely
intermittent lightning.
You may be sure that, with all his courage, our
hunter was not quite pleased to find himself in full
view of the Devil's altar-stone. It was an ugly predicament, to say the least of it; but there was no help in
the case, and he had only to make the best he could of
this also, which turned out to be bad enough again.
IIis eyes once fixed upon it, the haunted spot kept them
riveted by a terrible fascination, while Chamberlain
reflected upon his position in a state of mind which was
doubtless far enough from that of philosophic calmness.
Very soon, however, his reflections were interrupted
by a wilder rush of the storm, and a yet broader and
more vivid flash of lightning, which illumined the whole
valley and revealed the horned Devil himself, seated
upon a broken crag and clothed in all the recognised
paraphernalia of his royalty. Chamberlain thought
him a very Indiany-looking devil indeed, which rather
pleased him afterwards to tell, for he was no lover of
the Indian race.
This was apparently a gala night with Satan, although
none of the guests were yet arrived. He was not now
going to battle or to work, but rather to hold a royal
drawing-room, by way of enjoying himself and receiv



72                 TAGHCONIC.
ing homage.  His Sable Majesty is well aware that
they who would maintain authority must never too
much relax their dignity; so, upon this occasion he sat
enthroned with a very commanding and royal grace,
while the arrowy lightnings shot in circles round his
head, - very much, I judge, as you may have seen the
swallows dart and soar of a Summer evening, around
an old church steeple.
His Majesty had not long to wait for his loving
lieges, for suddenly from the darkness a huge, gauntframed wizard leaped out and mounted the altar-stone.
If Chamberlain has not painted him blacker than he
deserves, this High Priest of Satan was a most villainous-looking rascal. His raw-boned and ghastly visage
was painted in most blood-thirsty ugliness; scalps, dripping with fresh blood, hung around his body in festoons;
on his own scull, by way of scalp lock, burned a lambent blue flame; his distended veins shone through the
bright copper-colored skin as if they were filled with
molten fire for blood - and, as for his eyes, they glowed
with a fiercer light than those of the arch fiend himself;
from whence Chamberlain maintained that an Indian
Priest was at least one degree more devilish than the
Devil himself.
The present was evidently a very potent magician,
for at his call a throng of ghastly and horrible phantoms came pouring in from every nook and cranny of
the valley — each with a shadowy tomahawk and a
torch, which did not burn with the honest and ruddy
glare of pitch pine, but with a blue color and sulphurous odor, that revealed unmistakeably at what fire they
had been lighted.




THE INDIAN 3AIDEN.              73
Every ghost, as he came in, made a profound obeisance to the rock throned Satan, and then took his place
in the circle around the altar-stone. By and bye, the
Chief Priest set up a wild, howling chant, and away
went the whole rabble rout, yelling and rushing round
the altar in a mad, galloping sort of a dance, in which
they lifted their feet all the while, as if treading upon
burning coals or red-hot iron- a step which is only
learned in the dancing-schools down below. Many
more such diabolical antics they cut, which, as they
would neither be profitable by way of example or
warning, it does not matter to tell.
At last they paused, and Chamberlain thought it
about time for them to take themselves off; but they
were far enough from that. On the contrary, two barbarous looking phantoms - who might in life have been
familiars to a savage inquisition -presented themselves,
leading between them a beautiful Indian maiden, robed
only in her own long, black hair. At another moment
the beholder might have admired her graceful proportions and regular features, - as he did when he afterwards remembered them, -but now his senses were
too much absorbed by horror. Not a word the poor
girl spoke, but, stupified and silent, looked round from
one unrelenting face to another, as if at a loss to comprehend what it all meant. Poor girl! she soon knew;
for one of the familiars, seizing her rudely around the
waist, placed her upon the altar-stone, before the priest.
Then she shrieked - so wildly that the hunter declared
the echo never ceased ringing in his ears to his dying
day; —what part she had to perform  then was no
longer doubtful. But she shrieked not again nor spoke,
6*




74                 TAGHCONIC.
-only looked up into the fiery eyes of the priest so
piteously that it seemed his heart should have melted,
had it been formed even of flint like the stone on which
he stood; but it had been hardened in more infernal
fires.
So he took up his demoniac howl again, and went
capering madly around the maiden. Then, suddenly
pausing before her, he raised his hatchet and the whole
phantom circle gathered closer around him, as if to
gloat more nearly over their victim's pangs. It seemed
the sacrifice was about to be consummated; but as the
weapon was raised, the maiden's eyes (averted from it)
met those of Chamberlain. The kind-hearted hunter,
in whom compassion had overcome fear, could no longer
restrain himself; so, taking out his Bible, he pronounced
the great NAME, -- and with a terrific crash of the
elements the whole scene vanished, leaving him in
impenetrable darkness, - for although the lightnings
ceased, as if they had accompanied their master in his
flight, yet the rain fell faster than ever.
When the morning came, Chamberlain would have
taken it all for a dream, for, exhausted with fatigue
and excitement, he had fallen into a deep sleep; but
he found that the wizards, unable to harm him, while
protected by the holy volume, had revenged themselves
by stealing his deer, and perhaps giving it to their
familiars, the bears —for there were bears in those
days - so that there can be no manner of doubt as to
the truth and accuracy of Chamberlain's story.
There is many another legend of this haunted dell;
as for this, I hope you place the same implicit confidence in it which my old informant did.




THE GORGE BY NIGHT.              75
Passing through the gorge very late, one piercing
cold Winter night, the place looked very weird to me.
The frozen air was still as death; the white moonlight
was reflected from the snow, as I fancied, with more of
pallor than of brightness, and I heard a shriek which I
tried to believe came from the maiden victim. But it
may have been the scream of some far-off locomotive.
Confound those "resonant steam  eagles!" — there's
never a shriek, from Cape Cod to the Taghconicsthough with the ghostliest ring to it - but they get the
credit.




CHAPTER VIII.
OUR  RURAL  CEMETERY.
AN eye, observant of such things, finds few studies
more delicately curious than to watch those customs
which are rapidly, but almost imperceptibly, clustering
to form our national character. The rude and chaotic
elements seem, even while we look upon them, to
become conscious of order's laws, and to crystalize
around the nucleus of puritanic vigor into the shapely
and lustrous gem. Among these customs, not the least
purely beautiful is that of the consecration of rural
cemeteries in peaceful and retired spots, — where the
dead may find undisturbed repose, and the living may
weep over them, far removed from the noisy clang of
jarring throngs. There Nature and Art combine to
dissociate from Death his long accustomed horrors;
and there, though he still reign King of Terrors, he is
content to wear, not his iron crown, but his chaplet of
the poplar leaf- dark indeed without, but silver white
within.
Are not our American morals of the grave - where
they have developed themselves in their highest perfection - beautiful and peculiar?  Think how many of
the purest elements from other times and other nations
have combined to form them! The Egyptian's sacred




OUR RURAL CEMETERY.             77
reverence for the ruined palace of the soul; the Grecian's graceful celebration in song and sculpture; the
Frenchman's clinging, passionate love for the perishing
body; and overruling and pervading all, our fathers'
stern but hopeful faith that the immortal soul stays not
nor lingers, on its way from Earth, in any retreat —
however lovely and however consecrated. After all, it
is for the living, and not the dead, that we set apart
our holy grounds.
Such were some of the thoughts which passed over
me, as I went out to-day to witness the consecration of
our Rural Cemetery. Nor could I refrain from some
sad reminiscences of one soft and balmy day, many
years ago, when, with a party of youthful friends I
went out to unite with the people of my far off native
city, in ceremonies like those which I to-day have witnessed among strangers. It was one of those occasions
to which we look back as to a " far off isle in the stormy
sea of years;" one of those land-marks by which we
determine how far we have advanced towards the farther shore.
More than half the little group who were with me
that Summer clday, have fallen in their youth, and are
laid to sleep among the dim woods of that oak crowned
hill, which we then dedicated to peace and consecrated
by the sweetly significant name of "Mount Hope."
Upon how many of those who remain does a painful
sense of loneliness weigh, until they almost wish that
they too had their home in its bosom.
As to-day I looked among the crowd who had collected at the new cemetery, the countenance of a fair
girl, known to me only by name, recalled, as it had




78                  TAGHCONIC.
often done before, the memory of another grandly solemn burial place, on the distant plains of Pegepscot,
surrounded by dark and lofty woods,
"Where the solemn night wind marches
Through the pine's cathedral arches
Solemnly."
It was there that one bearing the same name, and in
whose veins flowed the same blood, was long ago laid
in youth to rest. Around her tomb rise the monuments
of divines, and scholars, and statesmen; and the more
touching memorials of vanished youth and beauty cluster near; but none have such a fascination for the lingerer as the white tablet on which is inscribed the name
and age of the President's daughter.  How often will
he lean over that sepulchral marble and strive to depict
to his fancy the manner and fashion of the beautiful
who sleeps so unconsciously below.
The solemn ceremonies of to-day, thus half sadly, half
pleasantly recalled other days in those distant cemeteries.
In the clear sunshine of October, we assembled by
thousands, -young men and maidens, old men and
children, -on a grove shaded knoll, surrounded by
lawns and lake, wood and stream, to be hereafter more
emphatically than others -
" the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man."
We had come in sadness, although not in sorrow.
Nothing impaired the becoming solemnity of the scene;
and when the full swell of the chorals had ceased, when
the sacred words of Scripture were read and the conse



OUR RURAL CEMIETERY.                          79
crating prayer was said, all shared the emotions of the
orator as he began: "Have we been persuaded- an
assembly of the living — to look upon the very ground
where  we  may  sleep?  Impelled  by  a  desire  to  do
honor to the dead, have we come  within  the  precincts
of a spot where every shadow seems now to deepen,
and where the mountains point so significantly to the
skies? "
Few  things of the kind  are  so classically and  christianly beautiful as was this entire Address, by Rev.
Mr. NEILL, of Lenox -  one of our finest scholars and
most eloquent divines.
Then followed the Poem, by OLIVER WENDELL
HOLES, -  of which I cannot resist the temptation to
copy a great part.   None can feel an  adequate  admiration for the poetry of Dr. Holmes, unless  they hear
it from  his own lips.  But read: —
"Angel of Death! Extend thy silent reign!
Stretch thy dark sceptre o'er this new domain!
No sable car along the winding road
Has borne to earth its unresisting load;
No sudden mound has risen yet to show
where the pale slumberer folds his arms below;
No marble gleams to bid his memory live
In the brief lines that hurrying Time can give;
Yet, O Destroyer! From thy shrouded throne
Look on our gift; this realm is all thine own!
"Fair is the scene; its sweetness oft beguiled
From their dim paths the children of the wild;
The dark-haired maiden loved its grassy dells,
The feathered warrior claimed its wooded swells,
Still on its slopes the ploughman's ridges show
The pointed flints that left his fatal bow,
Chipped with rough art and slow barbarian toil,Last of his wrecks that strews the alien soil!
"Here spread the fields that waved their ripened store
Till the brown arms of Labor held no more;




80                         TAGHCONIC.
The scythe's broad meadow with its dusky blush;
The sickle's harvest with its velvet flush;
The green-haired maize, her silken tresses laid,
In soft luxuriance, on her harsh brocade;
The gourd that swells beneath her tossing plume;
The coarser wheat that rolls in lakes of bloom,Its coral stems and milk-white flowers alive
With the wide murmurs of the scattered hive;
The glossy apple with the pencilled streak
Of morning painted on its southern cheek;
The pear's long necklace strung with golden drops,
Arched, like the banyan, o'er its hasty props;
The humble roots that paid the laborer's care
With the cheap luxuries wealth consents to spare;
The healing herbs whose virtues could not save
The hand that reared them from the neighboring grave.'Yet all its varied charms, forever free
From task and tribute, Labor yields to thee;
No more when April sheds her fitful rain
The sower's hand shall cast its flying grain;
No more when Autumn strews the flaming leaves
The reaper's band shall gird its yellow sheaves;
For thee alike the circling seasons flow
Till the first blossoms heave the latest snow.
In the stiff clod below the whirling drifts,
In the loose soil the springing herbage lifts,
In the hot dust beneath the parching weeds
Life's wilting flower shall drop its shrivelled seeds;
Its germ entranced in thy unbreathing sleep
Till what thou sowest mightier angels reap!
Spirit of Beauty! Let thy graces blend
With loveliest Nature all that Art can lend.
Come from the bowers where Summer's life-blood flows
Through the red lips of June's half open rose,
Dressed in bright hues, the loving sunshine's dower;
For tranquil Nature owns no mourning flower.
Come from the forest where the beech's screen
Bars the fierce noonbeam with its flakes of green;
Stay the rude axe that bares the shadowy plains,
Staunch the deep wound that dries the maple's veins.
Come with the stream whose silver-braided rills
Fling their unclasping bracelets from the hills,
Till in one gleam, beneath the forest's wings,
Melts the white glitter of a hundred springs.
Come from the steeps where look majestic forth
From their twin thrones the Giants of the North -
On the huge shapes that crouching at their knees,
Stretch their broad shoulders, rough with shaggy trees.




DR. HOLMES'S  POEM.                         81
Through the wide waste of ether, not in vain
Their softened gaze shall reach our distant plain;
There, while the mourner turns his aching eyes
On the blue mounds that print the bluer skies,
Nature shall whisper that the fading view
Of mightiest grief may wear a heavenly hue."
With this let us close our notes of this day of high
but melancholy pleasure.
7




CHAPTER IX.
AN HOUR IN OUR CEMETERY — BEING BRIEF
RECORDS OF CONVERSATION.
" I could wish to have the shadow of Death upon me till my soul had truly
and rightly felt it."
Mo UNTFORD.
ONE stilly Sabbath evening, as the full splendor of
the harvest moon was following hard upon the retiring
gleams of a cloudless sunset, we found ourselves at
the gate of our new cemetery. It was not long since,
with admiring thousands, we had there listened to the
memorable eloquence and poetry which had consecrated
it to Peace; but the crowd had gone their way, and the
place was very solitary now in its loveliness.  It was
as though the Peace which had been invoked descended
visibly upon the sacred grove.
" All sounds were hushed -of labor or of mirth."
Only, consonant with the hour and the place, the monotonous tolling of a distant bell, and the low, lulling murmur of the Housatonic soothed the ear and invited us
within the leafy sanctuary. We entered.
EDWARD BRANCTON. We have been often here,
Godfrey, and yet to-night how novel seems the familiar
scene. With what sharpness of pencilling is drawn




THE CEMETERY.                  83
this net work shadow of bough and leaf; and that single
oak by the lakelet's side, how finely it stands out from
its dark back-ground!
GODFREY GREYLOCK. Yes; and how perfectly the
unruffled water mirrors back its undistorted image!
The image is fairer than the substance.
EDWARD.  There is deeper gloom, too, under those
sombre hemlocks; and see! up yonder knoll, how the
ghostly forms of the sheeted birch start out upon us
from the wood; —" Nothing but doth suffer a night change,
Into something rich and strange."
Such a change as our fathers' fancied came over the
wight, who, on a weird night like this, strayed into the
charmed circle of the fairy folk. Oh, what a fit realm
were this for fairy queen! I am not sure that it is not
enchanted ground.
GODFrnEY. Alas, this place shall bear the record of
sadder mutations than those of superstitious fancy or
of changing lights. They who shall hereafter tread
these avenues will find food for more melancholy, perhaps more profitable meditations than ours.
EDWARD. Yet hath the new tomb, wherein was
never man laid, its own peculiar lesson. There is a
singular charm for me in our graveless cemetery —this
virgin bride of Death.
GODFREY. Doubtless it is well for us to be here.
We do well to contemplate anything upon which the
shadow of Death hath fallen. Whatever that dark
spirit touches he invests with a portion of his own sublime terrors; and after the unapproachable ONE, where




84                 TAGHCONIC.
shall we look for such awful majesty! It is my passion
to meditate upon him where the garish light of life
maintains no contests with his congenial shades.
EDWARD. I, now, on the contrary, would bid the
most cheerful light of day, or such a silver radiance as
this, fall upon the tomb I love; I cannot grudge a portion of the common sunshine to paint the daisy that
grows above the dead. Your gloomy mould-collecting
cypress and yew are not for me. Let us plant about
the resting places of our departed the feathery elm, the
maple, and the silver-leafed poplar. Divest the tyrant
of your imagination of his horror-striking sceptre; he
reigns only by your submission.
GODFREY. It is in vain. Christianise or stoicise as
we will, the last change — the mysterious soul parting
— remains the great terror of our humanity. Why
should we wish it otherwise? The soul trembles with
awe, as it expands to receive the impression of some
overpowering object of sense- the Alps, the ocean,
or St. Peter's dome.  Should it not thrill at the
passage from the little known to the boundless unknown?
EDWARD. And yet, by Faith, martyrs and dying
saints have entered upon that mysterious path with
smiles and songs of triumph.
GODFREY. And so by their sort of faith have
pagans and infidels; but so could not I. Do you think
that Columbus smiled, when, in the morning's grey, he
beheld, dim and indistinct, the reality of a life's long
dream? Neither should you, to behold, in the dim
light of Death, the eternal shore, - although you knew
it to be the heavenly goal of a life's best hopes. Be




DEATH.                    85
assured we make too lightly of this matter when we
speak of crowning the majesty of Death with roses.
There is mockery in it and treason, that I, for one, will
not plot against the King of Terrors.
EDWARD. Yet surely you would not set up a skeleton image for us to worship 
GODFREY. By no means. W~hy personify Death at
all?  Let us leave him rather as does Milton - a vast,
awful, but undefined image, which the soul may contemplate in varying but ever reverential mood. We
wrongly strive to make Death familiar to our thought.
EDWARD. There can be no irreverence or profanation in holding frequent and familiar converse with
Death, since HE - only whose stern minister the dark
angel is - invites us to commune with Himself as with
a friend.
GODFREY. The oft communion is well; the familiar,
sentimental talk of Death, I deem to be ill, unreal,
meaningless, not to endure when the reality comes; a
trick to soothe the terrors of a distant contemplation of
Death, which will fail us altogether at the last, in the
near dread presence. We presume too much on the
communion we are permitted to hold with our Maker.
I have heard pious, good men address the Ruler of the
Universe in flippant tones, and even with advice —
such as they would not dare address to the merest village potentate. Let us think of Him with reverence,
as our Creator, our King, our Judge; with greater
trembling as our Father and Friend. Let us speak of
Him with profoundest awe, as the Most High GOD,fearful in praises, doing wonders; as did the royal
7*




86                      TAGHCONIC.
Psalmist, bowing before him with the devotion of the
lowliest subject.
EDWARD.  With the affection of a child for a parent as well.
GODFREY.  Yes, with that filial affection of the Orientals -more informed with awe than  the homage of
the most abject slave of the most iron despotism.
EDWARD. Well, let these cheerful groves and glades
answer you.  This lake, which they have called by the
name of " St. John  the Beloved;" —  this oak, which
stands here pointing constantly to Heaven.
GODFREY.  This oak.  Do you know L. calls it the
"Dial Oak?"  whose circling  shadow, at some time
every day, points each man to his grave.  By the bye,
can you repeat those fine lines of John  M[alcolm's, on
a dial?
EDWARD.  In part.
Upon a dial stone
Behold the shade of time,
Forever circling on and on
In silence more sublime
Than if the thunder of the spheres
Pealed forth its march to mortal ears!
It meets us hour by hour,
Doles forth our little span,
-Reveals a presence and a power
Felt and confessed by man; -
The drops of moments, day by day,
That rocks of ages wear away.
Woven by a hand unseen,
Upon that stone survey
A robe of dark sepulchral green,
The mantle of decay, -
The fold of chill oblivion's pall,
That falleth with yon shadow's fall!




THE DIAL.                              87
"Day is the time for toil, -
Night balms the weary breast, -
Stars have their vigils, - seas, awhile,
Will sink to peaceful rest; -
But round and round the shadow creeps
Of that which slumbers not nor sleeps!'Before the ceaseless shade
That round the world doth sail,
It's towers and temples bow the head,
The pyramids look pale,
The festal halls grow hushed and cold,
The everlasting hills wax old.
"Coeval with the sun,
Its silent course began,
And still its phantom race shall ran
Till worlds with age grow wan, -
Till darkness spread her funeral pall,
And one vast shadow circles all! "
GODFREY. See, while you were repeating, the moon
has gone down behind Onota, and the shadows are
deepening around us. Have they, too, no lesson?




CHAPTER X.
LENOX  AND  ITS SCENERY.
IN tradition, and in books, far and near, is Lenox
known as one of the most charming mountain towns in
New England. The traveller never forgets the joy
which breaks in upon him through his gratified senses,
when on a fresh Summer morning, he mounts its hill
for the first time. He knows not whether to admire
most the rural neatness of its quiet village, the pure,
sweet air whose briskness so braces his nerves, or the
varied beauty of its landscapes.  How it cools a
fevered brain, and restores the elasticity of a depressed
spirit, to feel oneself treading freely upon green earth
unbounded by iron railings, and to gaze into a blue sky
unclouded by smoke and dust! Those only who leave
the hot terraces and singed air of a city, can worthily
panegyrize the dewy mornings, the cool, luxuriant
verdure, and the wide prospect which regale the senses
in a mountain region like ours. We take an honest
pride in watching the glow of health gradually suffusing
the pale cheeks of those who come to snuff our air.
How buoyant become the spirits, let loose from sickly
confinement upon that which " every natural healrt
enjoys!"  How ring the merry shouts up our joyous
hills!




LENOX.                    89
The stranger will need no guide to find such charms.
He need but confidently open the porches of his senses
and it shall go very hard if they fail to stream in
through each inlet. It matters not so much at what
season he come, so he bring with him a mind capable
of appreciating and enjoying a beauty which changes
with every varying aspect of the heavens. There is
the balm of a May morning; the quickening vitality of
the warlnth of June; and the mellow glory of October,
— as well as the comparative freshness of our July
and August, to those who follow the example of the
Roman, in fleeing from "mad dogs and streets black
with funerals, to gather the first figs of the season in
the country."  They are doubtless wise in the light of
their own philosophy, who seek a rural retreat like
ours, for a month or two, - ready to hasten back to
the delights of " trivial pomp and city noise," as soon
as the dog-star abates his rage a little; but let not such
presume to fancy themselves at all conversant with the
budding, ripening, and fading beauties of the " swelling
year," as it unfolds itself in our hill country!
But to the mere lover of natural scenery, though he
linger, never tiring of the varied pleasures revealed to
him, the half has not been told. He who regards our
village only as a part of the " great world of eye and
ear," may be deeply impressed with its claims upon his
admiration, and yet go away but ill prepared to do
justice to its truest beauties. A Berkshire Winter is
almost bleak enough to become a proverb; but some of
us, who have braved its blasts, would not barter the
prospect which it brings, of the genial delights of warm
fire-sides and warm hearts, for the prospect of an




90                 TAGHC ONIC.
Italian spring, or of three months in the spice-groves
of Araby the blest! IHe who would give Lenox its
due meed of praise, must be able to interweave the
first impressions of the stranger with the matured acquaintance of the resident. If that cannot be his lot,
we would tell him that here is the wealth of personal
worth; that here have lived, and still live, many whom
the world delight to honor; that here, in a quiet seclusion congenial to thought and fancy, reflecting and
gifted minds have plumed many "winged words" for
a ceaseless flight.
In order to get the best distant view of Lenox, you
must approach it by the Lebanon road. As you wind
down the mountain, you get occasional glimpses of the
spires of a half-hid village, on an eminence east of you.
Soon a turn in the road brings you in sight of a broad,
cultivated swell of ground, sloping gently up from
beneath you, on the brow of which, so embosomed in
shrubbery that it promises to reveal much more than
you are now permitted to see, stands the main part of
the village. The spire which you see upon the left is
upon the steeple of the Congregational church, which
overlooks the village from an eminence north of it. As
you approach, the tufts of trees open partially and disclose a cluster of white houses stretching a third of a
mile from north to south, and upon several streets converging towards the centre of the village; the whole so
thick set with maples and elms that very few of the
buildings can be distinctly seen. While nearing the
village from this direction, you have on the right a fine
view over a broad, green valley, extending into the
towns of Stockbridge and West Stockbridge, and cooped




LENOX.                    91
snugly in on all sides by ridges of hills. It was while
travelling over this same road, with this lovely scene
beneath them, that a party of Hungarians, who had
come to Lenox in search of employment, could not refrain from raising their hands and shouting their admiration to the full extent of their English, in repeated
exclamations of " beauty! beauty!"
We have entered Lenox by an unusual route. If
the cars on the Housatonic railroad set you down at the
dep6t, about two miles from the village, you will have
a carriage ride all the way up hill. The road for a part
of the way is delightful. The murmur of a brook on
each side of you is a pleasant exchange for the hoarse
mumbling of the cars, and you become sensible of a
purer and fresher breeze fanning your cheek as you
ascend. The wild luxuriance of the scenery on all sides,
the perfect stillness of the air, save when broken in upon
by the songs of birds, singing as with no fear of being disturbed in the security of their leafy labyrinths; the whole
impression of a scene so wild and native is so utterly
dissonant from the ideas suggested by the sound of the
whistle, that, - if we may forestall the traveller in his
reflections, - the incongruity of the tales told to your
senses will be the burden of your thoughts. A railroad
through the marts of trade, on the banks of the Hudson,
or even over the Rocky Mountains, whither the gold
region invites, you could contemplate with quiet complacency; but here, where the golden age still seems to
linger, the vulgar snortings of the iron-horse grate
harshly upon the ear. If the Latin poet thought that
the heart of that man who first thwarted the designs of
Heaven in cutting off the land from the "unsociable




92                 TAGHCONIC.
ocean," by tempting it with his impious bark, must have
been girt with "brass and triple steel," judge, 0 ye
gods! how insensate must that wretch have been who
first turned the leaden eyes of railway harpies toward
our quiet village! How must slumber have forever
forsaken his eyelids who thus "murdered sleep!"
But your memory having been recalled to the fact
that you are on the way to Lenox, you will be wondering, long before you get a glimpse of it, where there
can be a village so far up. Your expectation almost
tires of seeing it perched, invitingly, on some hill-top
now hid from view, to which the consideration that a
"city set on a hill" ought not to be hid, certainly
brings no relief; but notwithstanding your reflections,
up and still up you go, till you suddenly find yourself
in the back streets of the village. Lenox has the highest elevation of any village in the county, being at
least thirteen hundred feet above the sea level. Yet
situated on a hill among hills, protected somewhat by a
sort of amphitheatre of ridges, without being shut away
from the cool breezes which sweep so gratefully over
these mountain ranges in Summer, the thermometer
actually indicates less extremes of heat and cold than in
the villages located in the adjacent valleys. Whether
it be principally owing to its position, or to that combined with the pleasing inducement to walking and
riding offered by the shady avenues and delightful
roads diverging in so many directions from Lenox, or
to the superadded effect of the cheerful morality which
prevails, that the cheeks of the young wear such a
peculiarly healthy glow, it is certain that this never
fails to attract the notice of strangers. It was with less




LENOX.                    93
surprise than gratification, considering the favorableness to health of the locality, and of the pursuits to
which its inhabitants are devoted, that on a recent examination of the record of deaths, faithfully kept for
the past ten years, we found Lenox to be by far the
healthiest town in the county.
The public buildings of the county are situated in
Lenox. The Court-House is a brick. edifice, of unexceptionable taste in its architecture, and furnished
with a library for the use of the bar. Here also is an
Academy, which being the oldest in Berkshire, presents
a history of success through fifty years, seldom equalled
by institutions of its kind. The principal Hotel —so
situated as to command a favorable view, both of the
village and distant scenery —has become, under the
care of its efficient proprietor, Il. S. Wilson, Esq., a
favorite resort for visitors from the cities.
Unlike the rugged, grotesque scenery to be met with
in some parts of Berkshire, the landscapes adjacent to
Lenox are rather of a picturesque character. There
is hardly a rod of level land in the town, yet there is
very little that can be called broken. Even the hills,
notwithstanding their bold proximity, present such a
social and inviting aspect, that no one in whose ear
natural scenery speaks an intelligible language, will
remain long in sight of them without accepting their
invitation to climb their sunny sides. Bald Summit,
in the south-west, tenders as tempting a request as any;
he is a brave "specular mount," and will repay you
with a prospect in grandeur and beauty not easily surpassed. The view  he gives you is wide, rich, and
joyous, - nothing in the range of your vision frowns.
8




94                 TAGHCONIC.
If you want a guide-book, take " L'Allegro" with you,
and passing from swell to swell, from hill top to hill
top, all the region over, you will find nothing to mar
the gayety of its pictures. Sunny slopes, covered with
c "meadows trim;" delightful swells undulating over
broad, green valleys; hills on whose sides cultivated
fields alternate with luxuriant wood-land patches -the
very summits of many crowned with the sweetest pasturage; little lakes of peerless beauty smiling out of
their sheltered beds among the hills; villages in several
directions, embowered in shrubbery that tempers the
glow of their white buildings; the whole scene begirt
in the distance, in some directions, by sturdy elevations,
and in others by long ridges drawing a clear line
against the sky, are the main features of a picture,-for
the coloring and details of which you must be indebted
to Bald Summit himself.
But as after a general survey of a face you always
return to take a second look at the eye, turn now to
gaze awhile at the eye of our landscape. It is a blue
eye now, and looks out lovingly from underneath sheltering brows; but when Heaven's face scowls over
these hills, it blackens and scowls too. It sparkles and
glances in the jocund light of morning; we have loved
to watch it, growing soft and deep, like a dying man's
eye at sunset i
A lady, of whom we intend shortly to speak, has
given this little lake the name of the "Stoclkbridge
Bowl."  It is the largest of the three lakes near our
southern border, and is a gem we take no little pride
in showing to the stranger. You must get a view of it
from the south-eastern shore, that the dark shade of




THE PEOPLE.                 95
the elms upon its northern and western sides may
throw into higher effect the magnificent sweep of its
margin. Go and listen to the music of the ripples on
its pebbly beach, when a morning breeze ruffles its
surface; go and catch a "noontide dream" from their
fainter murmur at mid-day; go and watch the shadows
of the mountains darken and lengthen, and melt in its
molten crystal. When your ears are wearied with the
coarse din of business thoroughfares, and your eyes
aching with the glare of brick walls, many will be the
times that you will long for another draught of beauty
from the Stockbridge Bowl.
It becomes us to observe all circumspection in speaking of the personal characteristics of those among whom
our book will doubtless find its way; but we cannot
forbear trespassing on the privacy of the people of
Lenox sufficient to pay what we deem a just tribute to
their mental and moral qualities. Leaving out —as
we are always bound to do - the few who tower above,
and the few who crouch below the main mass, we never
knew a people who had, to a greater degree, the rare,
happy faculty of holding fast the " golden mean."
Elevated by education and refinement far above the
rusticity so characteristic of too much of our New-England yeomanry, yet they do not aspire to the pomp of
gay life, or the pageantry of fashion. Not anxious for
the excitements of intense exertion, as indeed they are
remote from the great centres of commercial and political agitation, they will win your admiration more by
their intelligence, their fidelity, and their affection, than
by the cloud of dust they raise on the arena of the
world's strife. While you will find in them an unaf



96                   TAGHCONIC.
fected appreciation and a warm love for the beauties of
their hills, and lakes, and skies, each one is inclined to
prefer his own fireside to all else; and at their firesides
you must meet them, if you would know them as they
really are. We have often thought, perhaps not justly,
but certainly with great admiration for their philosophy,
that if all obstacles to the realization of their ideal of
life were removed, it would be one —
"Whose even thread the Fates spin round and full,
Out of their choicest and their whitest wool."




CHAPTER XI.*
LENOX AS A JUNGLE FOR LITERARY LIONS.
THE rural beauty of its locality, and the unobtrusive
deference universally paid to real worth, by its inhabitants, have attracted within the precincts of Lenox
many persons of literary eminence. This fact has long
associated its name with that kind of celebrity, which,
through an affection for genius itself, is always accorded
to its local habitation. No ordinary interest invests the
spot where the private life of a distinguished person is
passed; and, partly because persons of genius are very
generally characterized by eccentricities, and partly
because every thing connected with those we love has
a peculiar claim upon our regard, there is nothing that
we seize with more avidity than details of their personelle - their daily walk and conversation — the way
in which they demean themselves, when they have laid
aside the buskin, or dismounted from the Pegasus of
their coursings, and become common men and women
- fellow mortals. Grateful as are the tones of their
voices, when addressing us as " Gentle Reader," it is
with a far more home-felt delight that we hear them,
* For this and the preceding Chapter, I am indebted to the pen of Mr.
BUCKHAIr, of Lenox.
8*




98                 TAGHCONIC.
when companions of their walks, or fellow visitants of
their favorite haunts, even in imagination.
In attempting to play the cicerone for you, in these
trippings, we only wish that while we observe the limits
of propriety and courtesy, in making such disclosures,
we could bring materials for your entertainment at all
commensurate with the distinguished merit of the persons to whom we shall introduce you.
And first, of MISS SEDGWICK. At the bare mention of her name, we seem to see a whole troup of
sunny-faced children gathering close around us - for
while hers is a name which men of the sturdiest intellects have long associated with whatever is graceful in
literature, we know of none more adapted to beguile
" young children from play, and the old from the chimney corner."  Yet we cannot speak of Miss Sedgwick
as we would, for we venture to say that the retirement
of her private life would reveal more to admire the
more it was unfolded; we cannot even speak freely of
the cordiality of her manners, the charms of her conversation, or the winning grace of her whole life; for
if we knew aught of these things beyond others, it
could only have been from her own confiding courtesy.
We are therefore reluctantly compelled to regard her
in a position which she shares with many others, and
to place the great, in her character, more prominently
before the eye than the good.
The first part of Miss Sedgwick's literary career
was spent in Stockbridge, the place of her birth. Many
of the beautiful descriptions of scenery to be met with
throughout her writings, are transcripts of impressions
made upon her mind by the scenery among which her




MISS SEDGWICK.                99
youthful imagination was nurtured, in the lovely valley
of the Housatonic. There is no trait in her mental
constitution which gives more grace to all the goings
forth of her life - intellectual and social - than its
inborn affinity for natural beauty. She has done much
to induce a livelier sympathy with the beautiful in the
minds of all, but more especially in the humbler classes,
who have been supposed to be almost, of necessity, out
of the reach of its refining influence. She has given
names, and by her descriptions, attractiveness, to many
of the most admired features of Berkshire scenery;
and our horticultural exhibitions are always graced by
a bouquet of flowers reared by her own hand.
Neither in her intellect nor her feelings has Miss
Sedgwick been trammelled by any of the straight-laced
notions of a school. The simplicity of nature has never
been trained by art to rigidity; nor have the spontaneous promptings of intelligence and good-will been
curbed into too decent a conformity with conventional
models. Her views on all subjects embracing human
relations, are uncommonly liberal and tolerant, and are
only equalled in breadth by her universal sympathy
with the true and the good, wherever found. If the
mode in which she ridiculed the extravagances into
which religious doctrines, held sacred by so large a
share of her countrymen, had been suffered to run, and
which got for the " New-England Tale " the reputation
of being a covert attack against the doctrines themselves, seems to form an exception, — we can only say
that it must be an exception, for it certainly has no
parallel in her writings, and no sanction in her private character. Whilst we must acknowledge that it




100                TAGHCONIC.
is a most perilous undertaking to ridicule religious excesses, - and whilst we must in candor say that we
think Miss Sedgwick has erred upon the more dangerous
side, yet when we take into consideration the fact that
the Tale was commenced as a religious tract, with a
sincere desire to open men's eyes to matters which
may have needed correction, and that, after it had
grown into a book under the author's hands, she entertained no idea of publishing it, until almost compelled
by her friends, we cannot think that it ought to
impair the validity of our assertion, drawn from her
later writings, and the impression of her private life,
that she has a cordial love for all that is lovely, and a
ready sympathy for all that is worthy of it. Though
strongly American in her attachments, she could yet
see and acknowledge wherein we are behind our brothers of the Old World; her conviction of the absurdity
of our eternal self-glorification as a country, she recorded on the title-page of her " Letters from Abroad,"
in a motto which we think she might adopt in her opinions of other things with equal truth: "Well, John,
I think we must acknowledge that God Almighty had
a hand in making other countries besides our own."
It is impossible to read any of the writings of lMiss
Sedgwick without being impressed with the idea that
she wrote not for applause, nor for self gratification,
but with a more generous aim, and with a higher ambition. We know of no American author who has done
so much to eradicate false notions of domestic education, or of social economy, who has made so many homes
happy, and infused such sterling principles with such
gentle tones into the popular philosophy. Would that




HAWTHORNE.                  101
there were more gentle spirits to rise and follow in her
steps -to imbrue their own minds first with a love of
the truth, the broad, sound, fundamental truth which
underlies human prosperity in its widest scope, and
then devote themselves to its propagation, with the
seriousness and humility of Miss Sedgwick! If they
should not all produce works which for their literary
merit, but more for their sanctifying influence, future
ages will not let die, the thought of the poor whom
they have visited and comforted, of the sad homes
they have cheered, of the schools they have fostered,
and the ignorant they have lured to a love of knowledge, will, as we are sure it does, to gladden the serene
maturity of Mliss Sedgwick's life, breathe into their
reflections," the consciousness of living in
The grateful memory of the good!"
Of HAWTHORNE we feel at liberty to speak more
freely. The example which he himself has set us, in
his introduction to "The Scarlet Letter," is of itself
sufficient to remove all scruples that we might otherwise have.
On the northern shore of the Stockbridge Bowl, in
a spot of unrivalled loveliness, stands a small, uninviting red house with green window-blinds, and with
one single pine tree before it. You might pass it
at almost any time of the day, and you would think
it vacant; the doors would all be shut, the blinds
all closed, and that single pine tree would look as
sullen as if it were conscious of its loneliness. There
would be no path to the gate, and no knocker on the




102               TAGHCONIC.
door, and you would immediately conclude that the red
house of the two gables was shut against the resort of
men, - and'you would not be far from right, for there
lives Nathaniel Hawthorne.
If, however, on a closer inspection you observed a
wreath of smoke curling up from the chimney of the
house of the two gables, and had curiosity enough to
saunter about the precincts, in hopes of seeing signs of
life, until about four o'clock, you would finally hear the
door creak, and there would stand before you a middling-sized, thick-set man, with a large, vigorous face,
and lying under a profusion of coarse, black hair, a
head of massive development. There would be no
particular feature in his countenance of especial beauty,
except it were his dark and intelligent eye, arched by
a very black eye-brow, -yet you would gather from
the tout ensemble of the expression that it betokened an
intensely-working and thorough-going intellect. Were
it not that the countenance is relieved and heightened
by the vigor and intensity of mental activity, that
beams through it, you would think there was something
in it very heavy and sombre. If you ever had any
hint that there was a vein of rancor and acrimony in
his character, you would see no indications of it in his
face, unless you fell to imagining what expression that
black eye would take, and that heavy eyebrow, and that
firmly drawn mouth, when he was belaboring the Custom House officials, or spurring his bitterness against
some hypocrite,- who was of course a Calvinist and a
Puritan. But while you were making these observations, your hero would raise his eyes from the ground
long enough to give you one of those modest but




HAWTHORNE.                  103
expressive glances which mark the man of seclusion and
reflection, and then with a kind of swinging gait which
would assure you that he was not used to bustle among
the crowds of business or fashion, would wend his way
up to the village Post Office.
Mr. Hawthorne, even for a man of letters, leads a
remarkably secluded life. He has a few literary friends
with whom he cherishes an intimacy congenial to a
mind of such cultivation and sensibility, and a friendship which does honor to his heart, but he shows no disposition to mingle largely in society. This aversion to
social intercourse has been remarkable in him during
his literary career, and even far back into his youth, if
we may credit the accounts of his acquaintances. Not
only in his private life, but all through his writings,
there seems to breathe an unsympathising, morbid
spirit, — a spirit that seems to take a satisfaction in
keeping itself aloof from those who are guilty of the
foibles which it takes a still greater satisfaction in contemplating. This spirit he could never have inherited
from his ancestors, else those progenitors of his, who for
so many generations " followed the sea," were a strange
set of tars! Perhaps all his better sympathies were
chilled in those speculations with his dreamy brethren
of the Brook Farm Community; perhaps he and Emerson, enraptured with the mystic perfection of their own
fantasies, abjured all communion with this our gross
humanity; he certainly could not have had his feelings
frozen into hate by contact with the genial and sympathizing intellect of Ellery Channing, or at the warm
hearth-stone of Longfellow.
Yet, after all, we should be strangely insensate and




104                TAGHCONIC.
ungrateful, if we were disposed to grumble at what
may be, in the case of Mr. Hawthorne, but the concomitant of seclusion and literary devotion, or what at the
worst is so admirably wrought into piquancy in his
writings. The world, and we with them, would be
sorry were it far otherwise, and we are perfectly indifferent as to which of the two gables of his red house he
shuts himself in, if he will but open the door occasionally, and send forth such volumes as he has of late been
giving to the public. But we are not so selfish that we
cannot see, or that we would not like to tell M3r. Hawthorne, that our gain is his loss, in one respect at least.
We would tell him that the church upon our hill -the
clhurch, too, whose walls echoed the almost dying tones
of his beloved Channing, in his last public address- is
not the sanctuary of asceticism of any kind, and the
eloquent sincerity of a believing Calvinist has attractions even for those who have no sympathy with
his piety; but the shadow of the occupant of the
house of the two gables seldom, if ever, darkens a
church door.  Doubtless the remains of the Puritan sermons which moaned through the shattered timbers, and pealed through the tree tops of the old manse
at Concord, sufficed M3r. I-Hawthorne for the remainder
of his life, or else disgusted him with the idea of anything which by any possibility could savor of Puritan
homiletics.
Mr. Hawthorne was born and spent the early part of
his life in Salem, that old Puritan city, where the
witches were persecuted with such relentless fury;- -a
city which still, in spite of the cheerfulness of its
modern improvements, cannot be dissociated from that




HAWTHORNE.                   105
gloom  which invested it of old, as if the " Gallows
Hill," which overlooks it, would never withdraw its
shadow. Here, doubtless, he imbibed that fierce hatred
for many traits of the Puritan character, which pervade and almost embitter his writings. There is always
looming up in the background of his picture - ill protected by the thin tissue of the tale, or rather thrown
into bolder relief by its reflected light — some gaunt
old snuffler, bigoted in his zeal, hypocritical in his professions, who, notwithstanding that he is at heart the
very chief of sinners and almost a rival for the chief
of demons, lays all the claims to sanctity to be found in
the lankest possible hair, the most fervid quotation of
Scripture language, in a voice not wanting the due
nasal intonations, -in every respect the devoutest of
men, save in his heart, where rankle the worst propensities and the most damnable passions. With a sort of
bitter pleasure, and regardless of the rules of warfare,
Mr. Hawthorne first stealthily strips him of his coat of
mail, and then against his exposed enemy levels a
storm of poisoned shafts, barbed with all the skill that
a refined malice can invent, that he may have the fierce
satisfaction of glorifying in his fall. We can hardly
forgive Mr. Hawthorne this assault on the occasional
weaknesses of here and there one of those whom, notwithstanding, a long line of children glory in claiming
as their ancestry.  Bating  this one characteristic,
which, though it may add to the piquancy of his writings, certainly detracts from their merit. Mr. Hawthorne is one of the purest, most forcible, as well as
most graceful, of living English prose writers. His
style is splendidly constructed, his language racy and
9




106                TAGHCONIC.
idiomatic, while the magnificent web of his imagery —
sometimes reflecting the glance of a metaphor, and
sometimes interweaving a long array of analogies into
a beautiful allegory, is enchanting beyond description.
Mr. Hawthorne's last published book, "A Wonder
Book, for Boys and Girls," contains a number of accurate descriptions of our Lenox scenery. He fitly styles
himself "the silent man in the red house."  In this
book he has worked up six of the classical myths into
forms adapted to the capacities and suited to the improvement of the young, - and we think with remarkable success. That he who has furnished strong and
muscular food for staid men, can thus cater to the milk
loving palates of children, is no meagre evidence of a
versatile mind.
" The Scarlet Letter," and the "House of the Seven
Gables," have been received with great favor in England, and their author pronounced one of the master
magicians of the age, in his province. And notwithstanding the minor charges which we felt bound in justice to lay at the door of " the silent man in the red
house" of the two gables, we would have it understood
that we cherish the thought of his abode among us
with a complacency commensurate with the splendor of
his abilities and his renown.
Although  lnRs. KEMBLE is temporarily absent, we
still reckon her among our honored residents. Indeed,
even if her return was not anticipated at no very
distant period, there are few who would be willing to
forget the partiality which a lady of such distinguished
reputation and undisputed taste has shown to the




FANNY KEMBLE.               107
scenery and other attractions of Lenox. She is remembered as a marked and generous woman; there is not
a peasant in the region -however much he may have
been startled at her individualities- who has not some
tale to tell of her munificence. It was not to be supposed that many of the graver people would look with
much complacency on the port and demeanor of so
singularly spirited a lady, much less on her man-like
propensities to driving, hunting, and fishing, and less
than all on her man-like attire, while engaged in them.
There are many who did not know her, save as a splendid, imperious, passionate woman; they could not love
her who knew not also how ardent and generous a
nature was hers. That she had extraordinary genius,
an inflexible and irresistible will, and a consummate
address, every one, who ever saw her, acknowledged;
that she had the tender sympathies of a noble nature,
the poor by whose bedsides she watched, and to whom
she read the Bible in their sickness, will convince you,
with many a tearful tale; but those only who knew
her as a friend, can tell the full strength of her claim
upon their admiration and their love.
But it were both ungrateful and unjust to close these
sketches of those whose presence among us has done
honor to our village, without paying a tribute to one
who devoted his conspicuous talents, and his long and
honored life, to its spiritual upbuilding. It very rarely
falls to the lot of any community to be under the
guardianship of so large-souled and devoted a man as
DIr. SHEPARD. WVith abilities which gave him a towering eminence among his brethren, united with great




108                TAGHCONIC.
physical and personal endowments, his power as an
eloquent speaker, no less than a vehement proclaimer
of the truth of GOD, stood confessed in the admiration
of two generations of men; while his genial piety and
the strong flow of his sympathetic ardor, have gained
for him even more, to love him and to venerate his
memory, than those who admired the breadth of his
intellectual view, and the fervor and power of his eloquence. After having long been regarded as a venerable " Father in God," he closed his career of more
than half a century of pastoral labor in Lenox, in
January, 1846.
"None name him but to praise."




CHAPTER XII.
LAKE ONOTA — AND ITS WHITE DEER.
I SAID, the other day, that Pontoosuc was not quite
my favorite, among our mountain lakes. Onota is.
This beautiful sheet of water lies in an elevated valley,
some two miles west of our Old Elm, whence our
matter-of-fact people almost universally call it the
"West Pond."  You reach it by a few steps from the
high road, upon the north or south, but it is almost eremetically concealed from the passenger upon it. If
one is a good walker, the better approach is across the
fields, between the two. From almost any part of the
main street of our village, you can see upon an eminence in the west two twin elms, forming a perfect
gothic arch, -" St. Mary's Arch " they call it. Keeping your eye upon this pretty landmark, follow such
footpath as you can find; and when you reach it, a few
steps farther will bring you to the green and mossy
woods upon the eastern borders of Onota.
Of all our lovely groves, none are more perfect than
this. Few have so hermit-like a solitude; yet none
are so far removed from a desolate loneliness. These
shades are sometimes very solemn, but never gloomy;
one cannot feel very sad in them, but with a merry
company might be very gay.
9*




110                TAGHCONIC.
Around these shores were some of the earliest settlements; and before the intrusion of the white man, they
were the favorite haunt of the Indian. A gentleman
tells me that in digging into a bed of peat and marl,
upon his farm on the west of the lake, he has found, at
great depth, stakes pointed artificially, - evidently the
remains of wigwams built ages ago, when, perhaps, the
marl bed was a lakelet as crystal clear as Onota. Remains of the rude arts of the later Indians used to be
found in the neighboring fields; but now they are
rarely, if ever, turned up by the plough.
Wandering through the grove we come to the northern extremity of the lake, whence the view  to the
south is very wild and imposing; I believe it is the
fashion for artists and connoisseurs to consider this the
best point of view to be had of the lake, - indeed as
the best of its kind any where to be found.  The peculiar formation of the lake is certainly here displayed
to the best advantage, and is very curious. At about
one quarter of its length from its northern end, it is
divided by a narrow isthmus; the northern portion of
the lake being the work of those skillful engineers, the
beavers, - who formed it by building a dam across a
small stream which still runs through it, overflowing
their embankment in sufficient quantities to turn a mill
wheel at some distance below. The main or southern
lake is fed by springs.
The fringed gentian, the cardinal and other gorgeous wild flowers, grow in profusion at the north
of the lake. The more pleasant resort, however, is
upon the south, - where, of a dreamy Summer afternoon one can recline in luxurious reveries, as he




THilE WHITE DEER.             111.
watches the image of the mountains, sharply reflected
in the clear waters; sometimes in the green leafiness of
June, sometimes in the melancholy gorgeousness of
Autumn, or, better still, when the haze of the Indian
Summer invests them  with hues of pearly delicacy
and richness.
Perhaps, while you look, a broad winged eagle will
appear above you, soaring and sweeping in the silent
sky till it vanishes into the heavens; or a blue kingfisher will perch awhile upon yonder blasted bough,
and then suddenly darting into the water bear away its
writhing prey to its hidden haunt. Other gentler birds
will sit a-tilt on the lithe green branches - and, if it be
in early Summer, serenade your slumberous ear.
Near by, the cattle will stand in groups on a pleasant
point of land which runs out into the lake, and which
they seem to love better than other spots. It was this
point which the Indians called Onota, whence the
earlier settlers extended the name to the whole lake.
There are a couple of legends about this Onota, perhaps worth the telling. The first is well authenticated,
and the other not improbable, as legends go.
lOe iegenZb of tlje White Mleer.
There is hardly a country where a deer ever trod in
which there does not linger some legend of one or more
of these graceful animals, either wholly or in part of a
supernatural whiteness. It is a fancy which seems to
spring spontaneously in the rich soil of a woodman's
imagination. The " White Doe of Rylston," and Bryant's X"White-footed Deer," will occur to every one,




112                TAGHCONIC.
as instances of the use to which these traditions have
been put in poetry. Traditions with very similar incidents and catastrophies are said to exist in almost every
tribe of North American Indians, and among others,
those of the Housatonic valley.
A gentleman tells me that in the " old witch times,"
there were no firmer believers in supernaturalisms than
the people who lived about Onota; one of whom was
his own grandfather. This worthy old gentlemandead long since, but then a middle-aged man - coming
in from an unsuccessful hunt, saw a white deer stooping
down to drink, at Point Onota.  Instantly his rifle
was at his shoulder, but, before he could pull the trigger, his dog howled and the startled deer disappeared.
The marvellous story of the White Deer immediately
occurred to him, and it entered into his head that his
dog was bewitched, or rather that an old hag who
lived in the neighboring woods had assumed the shape
of the dog -which, among other devilish freaks, she had
the dangerous reputation of being able to do. With
never a doubt, therefore, that he was all the while belaboring the old witch, our disappointed hunter belabored
his poor beast until the woods howled again. This done,
he posted away to the cabin of the old crone and demanded that she should show him her back, on which
he did not doubt he should find the marks of the blows
he had inflicted upon his miserable hound. Of course
the old lady was in a tempest of wrath when she learned
the errand of her visitor; and it is believed my friend's
grandfather made a retreat more discreet than valiant,
under a shower of blows from that notorious article of
household furniture which was supposed to serve its




THE WHITE DEER.               113
mistress the double purpose of a broom by day and an
aerial steed by night, and which now answered another
very excellent turn.
Another gentleman, to whom I mentioned this anecdote, tells me an aboriginal legend of this same White
Deer.
"Long before the Englishmen set foot in the HIousatonic valley," he said, "the Indians used to notice a
deer, of complete and spotless white, which came
often, in the Summer and Autumn months, to drink at
Onota. Against this gentle creature no red man's arrow was ever pointed; for, in their simple faith, they
believed that with her light and airy step she brought
good fortune to the dwellers in the valley.' So long,'
the prophecy ran,'So long as the snow white doe
comes to drink at Onota, so long famine shall not blight
the Indian's harvest, nor pestilence come nigh his lodge,
nor foemen lay waste his country.' In the graceful
animal the tribe recognized and loved their good genius.
He among them who dared to harm her would have
met swift punishment as a sacriligious wretch and
traitor."
Thus protected by the love of her simple friends,
year after year, soon as the white blossoms clothed the
cherry, the sacred deer came to drink at her chosen
fountain; bringing good omens to all, and especially to
the maiden who first espied her glittering brightly among
the foliage. Finally she brought with her a fawn, if possible, of more faultless purity and grace than herself;
and that year more than the usual plenty and happiness
reigned round the lake. Not long after this, the first
French and Indian war broke out, and a young French




114                TAGHCONIC.
officer - Montalbert by name - was sent to incite the
Housatonic Indians to join in the league against the
English Colonies.
In his sacred character as an ambassador he was
welcomed to their lodges, had a seat at their council
fire, and listened eagerly to their wild and marvellous
tales. Among others he heard the story of the'White
Deer; and however incredulous of her sanctity, sufficiently admired the descriptions of her beauty. Among
those reckless and ambitious adventurers who set up
the standard of France in Canada, it was a passion to
carry away some wonderful trophy of the forest domain, to lay at the feet of their sovereign. Even the
persons of the savages had thus been presented at the
Court of Versailles, and royal favor had not been niggard in rewarding the donors of the more unique and
costly trophies of barbaric splendor.
It was for such reasons that an uncontrollable desire
to possess the skin of the White Deer took possession
of Montalbert. He already enjoyed, in imagination,
the reward which could not fail him who brought so
rare and beautiful a peltry to the splendid Louis.
Not fully aware of the veneration which the Deer
received from the natives, he first offered liberal rewards
to the hunter who should bring to him the coveted
spoil. For half the proffered price the chiefs would,
perhaps, have alienated their fairest hunting-grounds;
but the proposition to destroy their sacred Deer was
received with utter horror and indignation. It was
gently hinted to Montalbert that a repetition of the
offer might ensure him the fate he designed for the
Deer.




THE WHITE DEER.               115
But the Frenchman was not of a nature to be so
baffled. He had noticed that one of the native warriors —Wondo, by name - was already debased by
the use of the white man's fire-water, of which Montalbert possessed a large supply. Concealing his purposes
for a time, the adventurer sought out this Wondo, and
shortly contrived to foment the poor fellow's appetite to
such a degree that he became the absolute slave of whoever had it in his power to minister to his desires.
When the hunter was thought to be sufficiently besotted, Montalbert ventured to propose to him a plan to
secure the skin of the White Deer. Depraved as he
had become, Wondo at first recoiled from the thought,
but appetite at length prevailed and he yielded to the
tempter.
Years of unmolested security had rendered the Deer
so confident in the friendship of man that when at last
treachery came, she proved an easy victim. Before
conscience could awaken in the sacrilegious hunter, the
gentle animal was taken and slain, and the illgotten fur
was in the possession of the white man.
No sooner had Montalbert secured his prize than,
concealing it in his baggage, he set out for Montreal;
but the legend hints that he never reached the French
border, and the beautiful skin of the Indians' sacred
Deer never added to the splendors of French royalty.
Among the natives, the impious slaughter was not
suspected until the fire-water of the slayer was expended, and a returning consciousness compelled him
to confess his deed of horror, and to meet the speedy
vengeance which atoned for it.
Long and earnest were the supplications which the




116                  TAGHCONIC.
frightened natives sent up to the Great Spirit, that He
would avert from the tribe the punishment due to such
a crime; but the prosperity of the tribe never again
was what it had been, and its numbers slowly wasted
awayr.
Yet it is said that when they had become very few
and feeble, a white deer again came to drink at Onota,
and that same year the Missionary, Sergeant, first proclaimed the truths of the christian gospel among these
hills, and the red Indian learned to know  the white
man's God.
There are many hints of dim legends like these about
Onota, - both of the early settlers and their predecessors. One, who at this day looks upon its beautiful
scenery and breathes its pure air, can well feel why life
used to cluster thickly around its shores.
There is one little corner of the lake - an open bay
overhung by dark woods and covered with lilies, that
reminded me one evening, when white mists were gathering over it, of a little German ballad.  Perhaps the
connection is of the slightest, but it will warrant me
in giving a translation of what, in the original, seemed
to me beautiful.  The Mummelsee is a small, gloomy
lake in the Black Forest, near Baden-B~aden.
ummdtel'ee.:a ballab from  thlpe Oerman.
Tho' Mummel's lake is lone and drear,
Yet there the lilies bright are blooming,
And, bending low, their kiss they yield,
The wanton breeze of morn perfuming.
But when the night on earth comes down,
Aend the white moon puts on her crown,
From the dark wave each flower uprises,
Like youthful maids in festal guises.




MUMMELSEE.                           117
The winds that whistle through the grove
Give fitting music for their dances,
While on the shore each Lily-maid
Through mazy dircles deftly glances.
Their graceful forms, how slight, how frail!
How white their robes, their cheeks how pale!
Till the warm dance at length discloses,
Among the lilies, blended roses!
Now howls the wind, now rolls the storm,
Through gloomy forests fiercely sweeping;
The moon in clouds has hid her form,
And murkier shades o'er earth are creeping.
Still, up and down the dance goes round
To the tempest tune, on the rough, wet ground,
While the foam on the lake-wave whiter flashes,
As its crests on the shore it higher dashes.
An arm from out the lake is raised,
A giant hand and clench'd outthrowing,
A dripping head, with sedges crowned,
With a white beard long and flowing.
Then a voice is heard, with a thunder tone
That echoes afar through the mountains lone,
" Back, vagrant Lilies, to your native waters,
Back to your homes, unduteous daughters! "
The dance is stilled, the maids grow pale,'Tis sad to hear their fitful shrieking:
Our Father calls - Ha! morning air l
Back, then, our cheerless waters seeking!'"The silver mists from out the valley rise,
And morning painteth gay the eastern skies;
Again the Lilies to the winds are sighing,
Their pale, meek heads upon the waters lying.
10




CHAPTER XIII.
VISIT TO A SHAKER MEETING.
THE name, and something of the character, of the
"United Society called Shakers," is doubtless familiar
to you. Everybody has heard of their saltatory worship —an absurd mockery of cheerful devotion — of
their doctrine of universal celibacy, of the perfection
of their workmanship, the excellence of their husbandry, and the wonderful neatness and order of all
that pertains to them. This, however, by no means
comprises a complete, or the most valuable view of
their character. Understand them rightly, and I think
you will find this secluded body of strange religionists
one of the most instructive, as well as extraordinary
social phenomena, which the world presents. There is
something else to be learned among them than careful
husbandry, or thorough workmanship - something more
worthy of observation than an ungainly garb, or yet
more ungainly dance. It is by such strange distortions
of the social system that the moralist learns much of
its internal nature, - as the geologist determines the
internal structure of the earth from its upturned and
distorted strata.
I do not, however, purpose to play the moralist, but to
give some account of a visit to the Millennial Church,




OUR RIDE.                 119
at New Lebanon, and a brief sketch of their organization and manner of life.
Last Sunday I overtasked the generosity of a friend
by accepting a carriage seat to visit the church of this
strange sect, or rather this unnatural offshoot of christianity. It was one of those mornings we keep forever
among our choice memories. Never was balmier west
wind than breathed upon us, over the green hills of
Taghconic; never was bluer sky, or fleecier clouds, or
more heart warming sunshine than ours. We were
not now in pursuit of natural beauty; but, off the Berkshire hills, you may wander over many a league of
lovely landscape, and find none so lovely as will greet
you at every step upon them. "Here! "  " There!"
"Yonder!" we were continually exclaiming, as one
and another espied some exquisite little vista opening
up the valley; some fine old tree standing out in relief
from the wood; or some clear brooklet meandering
awhile by the road side and then dashing down a rocky
bed, to hide itself in the ravine below. Now  we
watched the shadows of the clouds passing, like dreams,
over the breasts of the sleeping hills; and now the
shimmering sunlight, as it glinted down through the
rich foliage with as mellow, warm-colored light as that
which gleams through old cathedral windows.
One of our party - a daughter of the West, whom
we will in ink christen " Hesperia "- had always some
apt quotation to illustrate every scene, and express
every sentiment; another such glowing eloquence of
lip and eye as continually rebuked the coldness of admiration which matter-of-fact people would have called
excessive, if not insane. It was just such a merry,




120                TAGHCONIC.
impressible party as one should desire to meet in pleasant lands.
We soon reached the village of the Hancock Shakers,
which they poetically call the " City of Peace."  It is
conspicuous, with its huge round stone barn,- the best
model, it is said, to be found for a building of the kind;
it is certainly the noblest looking agricultural structure
I ever saw. The meeting-house at this place was
closed, and the people were going out to hold a " mountain meeting," - a great festival in Shakerdom, of
which I shall have more to say, presently.  One of the
brethren, however, politely informed us that we should
be in ample time for the services at New Lebanon, and
at the same time gave a glance, which was anything
but Platonic, to the ladies.
With this slight glimpse into the Shaker heart, we
drove on, -staying a moment, however, to listen to
the sound of monotonous chanting which issued from a
house where one of the families (a family, in Shaker
parlance, is a collection of from fifty to one hundred
persons, living in one house, but in nowise related)
was engaged in its morning devotions. It was only a
doleful, droning hymn, of which we could distinguish
no words, — doubtless very far from melodious in itself,
but like other such sounds, not without a certain melancholy sweetness, when heard at a distance, in the stillness of a Summer Sabbath.
Ascending the Taghconics, when we reached the
"summit"- as the highest point of each road is here
called -the broad valley of the Hudson burst upon
us, as if by the withdrawal of a curtain. Before us
lay outspread its countless farms, its wooded uplands,




THE WORLD' S PEOPLE.            121
and the towering Kaatskills blue in the distance. To
some of us the scene was not a new one, nor is it by
any means the finest in grandeur or variety which can
be had of this splendid valley. We saw neither Palisades nor highland shores; the river itself, with its magnificent border of cities and towns, was hid from view.
But I know not when I have been filled with emotions
of such sublimity, as when looking down upon that
wide, populous harvest-laden slope, white with the corn
which was to give strength to nations, now lying there
in the Sabbath's rest, while the grey old mountains
stood above, clad in priestly robes of mist, as if ready
to bestow their patriarchal blessing. It was a scene to
which the most prosaic heart might well for once yield.
Slowly descending the western slope of the Taghconics, we soon reached the Shaker village of New
Lebanon - the capital of the Shaker world - the rural
vatican which claims a more despotic sway over the
minds of men than ever Roman Pontiff assumed.
We found the broad, level street, between the rambling buildings of the village, completely blocked up
with vehicles of all sorts, from Pittsfield and Lebanon
Springs. Stage coaches, hacks, barouches, buggies, —
every variety of carriage had brought its quota and
variety of visitors. Portly citizens in the glossiest of
broadcloths and most rubicund of faces, with massive
watch seals and heavy, gold-headed canes; hirsute exquisites, redolent of Broadway and eau de vie; ladies,
radiant in smiles and diamonds; men, eminent in politics, science, and literature; belles, blues, and heiresses;
in short, they were a fashionable mob, in most of the
paraphernalia of their order. And a queer contrast
10*




122                 TAGHCONIC.
they made to the place where they were collected;
where all ornament was eschewed as the deadliest of
sins, and beauty as the veriest of vanities - to be held
in corresponding contempt, and studiously concealed
under close fitting caps and hideous dresses.
The church is a plain, angular edifice, without tower
or spire, some eighty feet long by sixty broad, with its
broadside to the street. It is a substantial clapboarded
building, painted of a yellowish color, and with a
rounded roof covered with tin, which glitters very
brilliantly in the sunlight.  With its green doors, and
its grassy, enclosed court-yard, there is a simple, cheerful aspect about it, which, considering its locality and
its builders, has a suspicious likeness to the beautiful.
At either extremity of the front is a green door,
labelled, the one "MALES," the other " FEMIALES,"- a
laconic admonition to visitors, that being at Rome they
are expected to do as the Romans do. Accordingly,
parting from our lady friends, we entered the portal
appropriated to the grosser part of humanity.
The church within is as simple as its exterior promises. A pleasant, airy, unpretending hall occupies the
whole of the lower story.  Bright green Venetian
blinds shade the windows, and about one fourth of the
floor is fitted up with comfortable raised seats, for the
accommodation of spectators.  The remainder is a
clear, polished surface, reminding one of the travellers'
stories of Dutch housewifery-which is always, indeed,
more than rivalled by that of the Shakers. Here are
ranged some plain deal benches, without backs. A
huge sounding-board overhangs the whole, in order
that nothing may be lost of the precious tones emitted




A SHAIKER MEETING.             123
beneath it, - precious indeed, for there Heaven vouchsafes to hold direct intercourse with its chosen people.
Several apertures in the upper part of the walls we
at first took to be part of an apparatus for ventilation,
but they proved to be ear holes for the eavesdropping
of the " Lead,"- that is, two mlale and two female
elders, who dwell in inviolable seclusion in the second
story of the sacred edifice. These august despots are
much addicted to this species of the kingcraft of the
First James,- but fortunately the people, in this case,
have the advantage of knowing that they are watched.
A door in each end of the hall completed the arrangements, and was attended by a queer looking janitor -
a compound of Shaker saint and Yankee sexton. The
seats for spectators were nearly filled when we entered,
but the rest of the hall was unoccupied, and there was
no Shaker to be seen, except the odd looking janitor.
Presently a Shaker in full uniform appeared, and
looked around the room with the air of a reconnoitering officer, or more, perhaps, as you may have seen a
stage manager or scene shifter, just before the rising of
the curtain in a theatre. When this forerunner retired
I judged something was about to happen, and, having
no seat to lose, went to the door to learn what it
might be.
I was not disappointed. The whole Shaker people
were moving towards the church in procession, and the
effect was very fine, - particularly of the women, who,
dressed in spotless white, and moving with a noiseless
tread along the quiet valley, reminded me of a procession of white nuns. Indeed, so strongly did the fancy
possess me that I caught myself listening for some old




124                 TAGICONIC.
melodious chant to break upon the stillness of the air.
The company of drab colored men was much less picturesque, but came in well enough to fill up the unique
scene, as did also the varnished carriages of the visitors,
with their horses listlessly enjoying the morning rest,
and the coachman lazily dosing upon his seat; —a more
comfortable personage does not exist than your true
coachman waiting for his passengers; few have learned
so well the poet's lesson, "to labor and to wait."  But
the procession advanced, and I did not remain to have
the romance of my first impressions destroyed, but
returned to the hall before they came near.
It was not long before the procession followed, and,
after some slight preliminary formula, seated themselves on the deal benches - the males upon the east,
the females upon the west, facing each other. It is
hard to describe, but easy to catalogue their costume.
That of the males consisted of loose trousers, a long,
straight vest, and a long, straight, shad-bodied coat, all
of drab, and in the fashion of the times of the Revolution. The costume of Houton's statue of Washington,
at Richmond, Va., is not very different from that of a
Shaker in full dress.
The dress of the women was a long-waisted, narrowskirted gown, innocent of the abomination of bustle;
high-heeled shoes, muslin neckerchief, and close fitting
muslin caps, in all cases completely concealing the hair;
every part of the women's dress being in most cases of
the purest white. Upon the left arm, which is bent at
right angles across the breast, the women also carried
conspicuously a white handkerchief.
All this is minutely prescribed by the holy laws




THE EJECTION.               125
given by God at New Lebanon, in the year 1840, —of
which "holy laws" I shall have more to say, presently.
So much of the Shaker costume, but you can have little
idea from it of the odd look of the performers, in the
burlesque which was about to commence.
Preliminary to the strictly religious exercises, a slab
sided, hypocritical-looking individual came forward
to enlarge upon the beauty of decorum; and, after
complimenting the " world's people" on their good
conduct in times past, to request a continuance of it.
Truth to say, not only during the grimly ludicrous
dances, but throughout a sermon which was far better
fitted to provoke disgust and indignation, than any
lighter feeling, the spectators maintained a wonderfully
correct deportment.
When this worthy had concluded his speech, a female
specimen of elongated acidity went up to certain ladies
who had introduced the world's custom of carrying
babies into public assemblies, and removed without the
sacred walls those delicate proofs of a departure from
the cardinal point of Shaker morality. Oh, vinegar
faced sister, how often in church and concert-room
have we longed for a preventive police force like
thine!
Quiet and propriety having thus been provided for,
the Shakers prepared to violate both, in the legitimate
way. The whole assembly rose and sang a hymn,
accompanying the music by a singular motion of feet
and hands, which gave the performers a marked likeness to a band of kangaroos. I could catch only two
words of what appeared to be the burthen of the song,
-" lovely virgins," being ejaculated violently at every




126                TAGHCONIC.
turn of the stanza. What with the song and the singers, the eleven thousand virgins of Cologne came forcibly to mind. "Lovely" indeed!
After the hymn, followed a nasal, droning prayer, —
not very unlike that of other uneducated sectarians, -
full of absurd, but perhaps unintentional,'blasphemy;
pharisaic self-righteousness, and a sort of half pitiful,
half spiteful concern for the souls of their neighbors.
Then came more singing in the unknown tongue - an
unintelligible gibberish - accompanied by spasmodic
dances, promenades, and evolutions, very similar to
those with which a country militia company astonishes
the village boys. I must confess, however, that the
performers here evinced a superior state of discipline,
and very excellent drilling.
Often a spirit of enthusiasm is wrought up by these
performances, which surpasses all bounds. The actors
whirl round with inconceivable rapidity, shout, leap,
and finally fall in ecstatic trances; but on this occasion
something checked the usual fervor.
The assembly at length resumed their seats, and the
same sanctimonious individual who first addressed the
meeting, again came forward, and turning his back full
upon the saints, began a sermon directed exclusively at
the world's people, -or the "children of corruption,"
as the elect charitably style us.
It is hard to imagine what could have been the
object of the preacher, in directing the mass of crudities which he did, at such an audience as that before
him. One can hardly conceive the degree of vanity
which could lead him to expect to pervert any one of
them to the galvanic religion of the saints who sat




THE SERMON.                127
behind him, twirling their thumbs in complaisant stolidity. On the other hand, the Shaker priesthood are
far too shrewd to display wantonly the brazen impudence of this bold defender of their faith. I am inclined to think that although nominally addressing the
world's people, our preacher was all the while "whipping the Devil round the stump," and really was working upon his brethren. Perhaps all the while he
fancied he heard them saying, "Yea, verily, how our
beloved prophet is confounding these men of vain larning."
And confound them he certainly did, for never was
heard a more odious compound of blasphemous assumption, ignorance, and ludicrous sophistry. He began by
claiming that the corruptions of the Middle Ages had
so far destroyed the authenticity of the HIoly Scriptures as to render a new revelation necessary; and
such a revelation he claimed that the Millennial Church
possessed. He denounced, unmercifully, the errors of
the Church of Rome, and proclaimed the Protestant
churches children of that scarlet woman, and grandchildren of the arch-fiend himself.
Having thus fairly demolished the religious institutions of the world, he attacked the social, beginning at
the holy estate of matrimony, - by way, I presume, of
laying the axe at the root of the tree. You cannot
imagine the filth which he heaped upon those who live
in wedlock. McDowell never described the interior
life of the lowest brothel in colors so revolting as those
in which this cold-blooded hypocrite painted the holy
shrines of christian homes. I do not know but the outward life of this man may be pure, but sure I am that




128                TAGHCONIC.
the heart which engenders such things must be full of
seething corruption.
There would have been something infinitely amusing
in the whimsical deductions by which our theologian
maintained his opinions, had they not been so hideously
profane. Such wresting the Scriptures by main force,
I never before met, in all my experience of theological
controversy. For instance, the words of our Saviour,
commencing, " I came not to bring peace but a sword,"
were coolly interpreted into a command that men should
sever all the ties of parental, filial, social affection,
blot out the sweet influences of family life, and become
like the spiritless beings in whom subjection to men of
the speaker's kidney had destroyed all of soul that is
destructible. In the relations of parent and child, of
brother and sister, husband and wife, there are commonly thought to be obligations of some sanctity; but
a stroke of Shaker logic annihilated them in a breath:' A man is a man," argued our preacher, "before he is
a father, and therefore he may and should eradicate
from his heart all affection for his own child, in preference to that of another; a man is a man before he is a
husband, and though he may love the woman " —in a
Shakerly way, of course - "he must hate the wife." I
do not recollect how the case of a child was disposed of,
for certainly he is a child before he is a man; but the
preacher went on through the whole of the family
relations.
The burthen of the whole affair was the praise of
celibacy and the abuse of wedlock, —which was
treated in a way sufficiently scandalous, not to say
indecent. Our philosopher did not, however, wish the




THE SHAKERS.                129
human race to become extinct, but he thought it might
be propagated in a more decorous and less objectionable mode - which, however, he did not condescend
to point out, although we were curious to know. The
sort of monster a Shaker " Frankenstein" would create,
would be worth one's while to see.
Fatigued with this trash, I diverted myself by studying the faces of the Laity, and the lesson was more
easily understood than the sermon. The men did not
lack a certain air of vulgar intelligence. There was
perhaps as healthful a hue in their cheeks as you will
ordinarily see in a country congregation; but the stolid
sanctimony of the mass. was very repulsive, and the
lonely and desolate air of the old men was painful to
see. I could not but contrast these last with the venerable fathers of the hamlet whom I used to look
upon with so much reverence, in the village church of
L., as they sat in their own pews, surrounded by children and grandchildren, or, in the crowded porch,
returned the kindly and familiar greetings of their
pastor. To those, who have considered well the mellowing influences of whatever reminds us of the vicissitudes of life, it will not appear an indifferent matter
that Shaker discipline destroys those distinctions in
dress, which mark the mourner and the bride, the
young man and the grey-haired sire, — even the matron
and the child.
A sad sight was that, of the young girls cut off from
all that sheds a charm and halo upon their years of
maidenhood.  It is some relief, however, to think
that many of them  will, in good time, recognize
the teachings of Mother Nature to be far better than
11




130                TAGHCONIC.
those of Mother Ann, and, exchanging the Shaker garb
for a bridal dress, flit away to the Springs - Lebanon
Springs, our Gretna Green.  Still the sight is sad, for
very few of the sisters, in their hideous apparel, show
sufficient attractions to warrant a man in making his
way to them through the impediments which are here
sure to beset the path of true love. Nevertheless, I
earnestly recommend any young gentleman romantically
inclined, to make the attempt, and so rescue at least
one enchanted damsel from the den of these celibate
dragons. Be sure there is beauty there, if you can but
discern it. But, seriously, the sallow cheeks and the
lacklustre eyes bear sad record of the violation of Nature's laws. From seat to seat the eye wanders almost
in vain, in its search for a cheek of rose or a sparkling eye; with few exceptions, all is listless, forlorn
inanition.
The contrast in physical appearance, between the
males and females, is very remarkable, and it is curious
that Mrs. Kirkland has noticed one, exactly the reverse,
between the priests and nuns of the papal church in
Italy.  " There is," she says, "a painful difference
between the aspects of the priests and that of the nuns,
in point of cheerfulness. The priests wear a look
which cannot be called anything but sad. They have
not the appearance of men satisfied with their lot in
life, or who have found the best consolation for its ills.
The nuns, on the contrary, —so far as our opportunities for observation have extended, - were more cheerful than most women. The blood mantles in their
cheeks; their eyes light up easily; they show you their
precious things with an evident enthusiasm; and when




THE MONASTIC LIFE.               131
you ask them if the recluse life is a happy one, they
answer with such warmth and earnestness that you
cannot doubt their sincerity.  Perhaps it may be that
women are more easily satisfied with a round of petty
duties. Ambition is not the vice of their sex.  The
care of the poor and suffering, and the education of
youth, fill up their lives and leave them no leisure for
repining. With the priests, it is easy to conceive matters may be quite different."~
The reason of this difference is not far to seek;
Mrs. Kirkland solves her problem  in stating it. The
Roman priesthood are men of cultivated minds, —
many of them with a hearty contempt for their profession, - some of them burning with the purest patriotism; their aspirations are for something entirely other
than their daily steps lead to.  Longing, almost hopelessly, for their own and Italy's better day, they should
be sad.
The nun has no such fruitless aspirations; she believes in the earnestness of her nuptials with the head
of the Church. In her seclusion, she knows little of
her country's wrongs; she is cut off only nominally
rom social connection; only conjugal love is forbidden
her; father, mother, sister, brother, are regarded by
her with an affection only the more intense, that they
are separated from her. She is often more highly
accomplished, more perfectly cultivated than her companions whom she left in the world; she is surrounded
by the masterpieces of painting and sculpture; she
listens to the masterpieces of music; she may read the
masterpieces of at least Italian poetry and eloquence.
* Holidays Abroad," by MIrs. Kirkland; vol. II, p. 6.




132                TAGHCONIC.
Nor is she confined to "a round of petty duties;" " the
care of the poor and suffering, and the education of
youth" are surely things very far removed from that.
But one issue for the tenderness and sympathies of
woman's nature is closed for her, and from more than
one of woman's woes she is exempt.
Let us look at the reverse contrast.  The male
Shaker is generally of the most limited information;
he has few or no aspirations beyond a comfortable support in life; the place of patriotism, love, ambition, are
all supplied by self-righteousness, and in some by an
escape from the responsibilities of life. Had he been
left to the ordinary course of things, he would have
ploughed, and sowed, and reaped; being a Shaker, he
does the same thing, only in rather a more farmer-like
manner. He would have eaten, drunken, and slept;
and being a Shaker, he is more certain of doing the
same all his life, in a comfortable, hearty manner. The
main difference in so far, arises from the fact that he
sleeps alone,- and so falls into old age lonely, forlorn,
and childless. In the heyday of his life, in the ordinary pursuits of his class, animated by superstition and
a strong esprit du corps, he has all to which he is capable of aspiring. Of course this applies only to the
mass. There are men among them of shrewd intelligence, and even of polished manners. One can easily
imagine motives which might induce such to bury themselves in the shades of Hancock and Lebanon.
The Shaker woman has a more melancholy lot.
Love - -"the first necessity of woman's nature"is dwarfed, in her case, to most unnatural ugliness.
She must renounce the natural affections; she must




FE3IALE SHAKERS.              133
love none but her own unlovable associates. "Her
brethren, according to the flesh," she must regard as
outcast and vile. Her education must be confined to
the narrowest possible limits; "the arts, sciences, and
letters, as ye call them," are expressly prohibited, by
statute. Her music must be the noise I have to-day
described; if she reads, it must be only the senseless
jargon of Shaker theology. Her occupations must be
of the most petty nature; in the pleasure which suits
the busy, fretful housewife, in scrubbing and polishing,
she may share to her heart's content; she may and
must go through the tiresome routine of every-day
duties as our country dames use. But when all is done,
the fruit of her labor goes not to comfort or cheer herself, her home, or her family. Food, clothing, and lodging she undoubtedly has, - good, wholesome, and su-ficient, - but it is only, whatever it may be called, as
the bond servant of the Lead. With no hope of a
to-morrow happier than to-day, the Shaker women toil
on, cheerless and forlorn; surely, nothing is less inexplicable than their sallow and inane countenances.
The sudden cessation of the speaker's voice, and the
striking up of a quick, lively, camp-meeting tune, broke
in upon my reveries, and the dance recommenced.
Round and round the soulless, joyless rabble went;
more spasmodic —lmore like a band of galvanized
corpses —than before. There was evidently a desperate attempt to work up an excitement; but it was
quite as evident that the spirit could, by no coaxing or
driving, be persuaded to move. Plainly, there was no
hope of whirling-gifts to-day. The presence of the
faithless men and women of the world had, perhaps,
11.*




134                TAGHCONIC.
greater effect upon the nerves and tendons of the dancers than upon the tongue of the orator; and, after a
while, they gave over in despair, and took up their line
of march for their homes, where, it is to be hoped, a
substantial dinner awaited them, for the exercise must
have given them a harvester's appetite.
Thus ended a Shaker Meeting.




CHAPTER XIV.
N OTES ON SHAKERDO.
THINKING yOU may be interested in learning something more of the strange people of whom I wrote you
in my last, I have taken the pains to collect such information with regard to them  as I could, from reliable
sources. I have especially made use of a little book
entitled, " Two Years among the Shakers," which was
written by one Mr. Lamson. This gentleman, in search
of a better state of society, forsook our deformed social
organization for the Community at Hopedale; and, not
finding there the Elysium for which he pined, flitted
thence to the "City of Peace," in Hancock, Mass.
Two years' experience quite convinced him that this
was still farther from what he sought; and so, with his
wife Mary, who had faithfully followed him  in all his
wanderings, he returned to the world, — more reconciled, it is to be hoped, to strive after perfection with
the generation of which it pleased his Creator to make
him a part.
However, aside from his disordered social notions,
Mr. Lamson is a diligent and shrewd observer, with an
honest desire to see correctly, and report fairly what
he saw. In so far as he speaks from observation, he is




136               TAGHCONIC.
undoubtedly deserving of credit, and his conclusions
are generally plausible.
HIISTORY.
The "3 Millennial Church" was founded in the year
1747, by one James Wardwell and his wife Jane, with
a few other persons, mostly of the Quaker order. The
tenets which they then held were derived from those
preached nearly a century before, by certain enthusiasts
among the Huguenots, styled the " French Prophets."
Until the year 1758 the Shaker Church was in a very
inchoate and precarious state, - being distinguished by
few of those doctrines for which it is now peculiar.
In this latter year, however, they were joined by
Ann Lee - a coarse and illiterate woman - the daughter of one Manchester blacksmith and the wife of
another; from  the latter of whom  she separated,
after having borne him four children, all of whom died
in infancy. She is represented to have been very intemperate, and in the constant use of profane and
obscene language. Yet, by the masculine energy of her.
mind, she soon acquired a controlling influence in the
infant sect, and induced the aged Wardwells to yield
up to her the " Lead."
Assumllling now the title of Mother, - which Jane
Wardwell had before borne, —she introduced the doctrine of celibacy, and organized the church government,
under the style of "The Mother Ann, and the Elders
with her."  Afterwards, reluctantly, as it is said, at the
instigation of the Elders, she proclaimed that the
Millennium  had commenced, and that Christ had
inade his second appearance upon earth, in her own




HISTORY OF THE SHAKERS.          137
person. In the year 1774, Mother Ann, with the
wealthiest of her followers, found it expedient to emigrate to America, - and arrived at New York on the
16th of August, in that year. By the advice of some
Quakers they proceeded at once up the Hudson, to
Niskeyund, now Watervliet, where they have ever
since maintained a society. In 1780, an exciting revival of religion called them to New Lebanon, where
they gathered their portion of the harvest of souls, and
established the society at that place, which is now the
most flourishing in the world, and the seat of the Chief
Pontificate. In that year 1780, the Shaker leaders
were suspected of treason, and thrown into prison at
Poughkeepsie, but Gov. Clinton immediately ordered
their release. This pseudo persecution, however, helped
on their cause,- and Mother Ann and the Elders, travelling wherever inducements were held out, established
Societies in Massachusetts, Maine, Pennsylvania, and
other states.
In 1784, Mother Ann died, — which, it might have
been supposed, would put an end to her divine pretensions. She is, however, still regarded as a second
incarnation of the Word, and revered by all true Shakers,- as the Son is by Orthodox Christians.
Before departing from the world, she had appointed
James Whitaker her successor, or rather her vicar,
upon earth; and from that day to this, a succession of
similar rulers have administered the government, —
" bringing the people into order," and from time to time
adding new tenets to their creed, and new commandments to their code, dictated, as they claim, by Divine
inspiration.




138                TAGHCONIC.
GOVERNMENT.
The Shaker Government is a theological despotism;
holding in abject submission the body, mind, and heart
of its subjects, —and regulating every thought, word,
and action, from the most awful subjects of meditation
down to the cutting of the hair and the posture in bed.
The First Elder at INew Lebanon, as successor of
Mother Ann, is supreme ruler throughout the world, in
all things spiritual and temporal; every command issued
by him is regarded as emanating directly from Jehovah,
and is obeyed with a corresponding implicitness. All
other rulers and governments, throughout the earth, are
regarded as rebels against the authority of Heaven.
Yet they accept the protection of the law of the land,
and often appeal to it in their dealings with the world's
people.
The First Elder at New Lebanon appoints a Second
Elder, and also a First and Second Eldress, — all of
whom he has power to depose at will. These four
compose the "Ministry," or "Holy Lead."  They appoint a subordinate ministry, similarly organized, in
every Society of Shakers in the world; and this subordinate ministry is strictly accountable to the " Lead,"
at the " Head of Influence," but have unlimited power
over the laity of their respective charges.  In each
Family, again, Family Elders are appointed, with
power over the members of the household. A Family
you must understand to mean, in Shaker parlance, a
collection of as many persons as can comfortably live
in a house about the size of some of our large factory boarding-houses, - say fifty or more. Thus three




SHAKER GOVERNMENT.             139
grades of despots are established over the saints, from
whom they receive prompt and unquestioning obedience in all matters whatever.
You will naturally ask, in what manner such dominion
is maintained. The natural machiavelism of the Lead
is remarkable. They have some art by which to govern every mind; or, when that fails, to drive the rebel
from their fold. Over the great mass, especially of
those brought up among them, ignorance, superstition,
and an utter inaptitude for self-reliance, are sufficiently
powerful restraints; in other cases, favor, flattery, minor
offices, and hope of succession to the Lead, operate.
Others, again, are broken down men of the world,
weary of unsuccessful effort and only desirous of quiet.
Fear of hunger here, and eternal perdition hereafter,
with perhaps some spiritual pride, controls the mass.
Fear of expulsion to the cold charities and weary
efforts of the world, induces at least outward obedience
from the few.
The Holy Lead live in sacred privacy, in the second
story of the church building. They never associate
with the rest of the fraternity, but, although when not
engaged in official duties expected to work with their
hands, they have separate workshops, - one for the
males and one for the female Elders,- where the commonalty are never allowed to enter, except when summoned; and even the inferior Elders may never come,
unless upon important business. Into the sacred dwelling houses, not even the subordinate Elders may ever
enter.
Although dwelling in the church building, the Lead
do not take their meals there, but at the house of the




140                TAGHCONIC.
" Church Family," the upper-tendom  of Shaker land.
Even here they do not dine with the Family; but a
table is laid for them, in a separate room, where
they eat in solitary grandeur. When they condescend
— as they sometimes do- to dine with other Families, the same magnificent state is maintained. On
other occasions the Lead visit the Families, when they
retire at once to the Elders' rooms. The Family are
then collected in the hall; the Lead come forth, are
formally introduced, and address the people in a style
of official affection, - perhaps not very different, in
substance, from that of more polished Bishops.
TEEOLOGY.
The Shaker Theology is altogether a new thing under
the sun, and may be new again to-morrow or next
week -for one of the Elders assured Mr. Lamson that
this doctrine of the Godhead was " a growing thing in
the world." The Shaker Deity is neither a Trinity
nor a Unity, but a Duality, or better, perhaps, a Quartette, consisting of The Father and Holy Mother Wisdom with their son and daughter, Christ and Mother
Ann Lee. These last again are the parents of the
new or spiritual creation. In like manner they dualise
the principal of evil, and derive from it a world full of
evil spirits.
HOLY LAWVS AND ORDER BOOK.
Formerly Laws and Creed came orally from the
Lead, as occasion demanded, and as in all official acts
they are supposed to be inspired, all was regarded as of




SHAKER DIVINITY.             141
Divine Authority. But, a few years ago, something
more imposing was deemed desirable, and, at the intercession of Mother Ann Lee, God revealed His Laws
at New Lebanon in 1840. They are written in twenty
chapters, fourteen of which were read aloud by Elder
James Whitaker —spiritually, of course, for Elder
James died fifty years ago -to the human instrument
who wrote them down. The other six were delivered
by the Holy Recording Angel, and recorded in the
same way. A supplement called the "Order Book,"
has since been added; it goes more into detail, but is
of equal authority with the Holy Laws. A copy of
each, in manuscript, is deposited with the Family
Elders, and read aloud to the people on Christmas
day, and three times on Mother Ann's birth clay. For
the rest of the year it is kept under lock and key, in
accordance with directions contained in the laws themselves.
The mode in which the Shaker God establishes his
laws, is the most unique thing about them, and singularly in contrast with the "Thus saith the Lord" of
Holy Writ. The Omniscient, we are told, distrustful
of His own work, at the close expressly provides that
"' So these things shall be, if your Holy Lead approve;
if your Holy Lead, in their Holy wisdom with which I
have anointed them, give them their union," that is,
approval, - in which case " Let them affix thereunto
their hands and seals;" which was doubtless done.
The Lead may also, at discretion, set aside any Divine Law, - as is often done with regard to dress, and
the use of spirituous liquors; and as Mlr. Lamson
thinks, occasionally in the matter of sexual intercourse.
12




142               TAGHCONIC.
EDUCATION.
On the subject of education these laws are curiously
precise. Something like schools the statutes of Massachusetts insist there must be, even in Shakerdom; and
by the Shaker laws it is provided that in them may be
taught Reading, Writing, a little Arithmetic, a little
Geography, and a little Grammar. Chemistry, Philosophy, and the whole tribe of onomies and ologies are
sweepingly forbidden, together with the Fine Arts.
As some doubts might arise in the minds of a scrupulous teacher, as to how much a "little" of the prescribed studies might be, it is further explained that " it
is better to know too little than too much," - in fact, I
suspect that the less the better, for the purposes of the
Lead. The favored few, who are destined to rule and
prophecy, do doubtless, however, go much further. I
have some reason to know that Philemon Stuart, the
Chief Prophet at New Lebanon, is a reader of the
works of Andrew Jackson Davis, and the series of
works published by Fowler & Wells, in New York.
GIFTS AND REVELATIONS.
A gift, in the Millennial language, is something, anything which the favored individual receives from some
one of the Godhead, some distinguished saint, or, perhaps, one of the prophets. Many great personages in
history have, since death, been spiritually baptised into
the church, and are counted high saints in the Shaker
calendar.  Among others, are Napoleon, Tamerlane,
Generals Jackson and Harrison, Pockahuntus, and King
Philip of the Wampanoags. Generals Washington and




SHAKER POETRY.                   143
Lafayette are especial favorites, and are often seen by
the gifted ones, mounted on white chargers, and keeping guard over the Mount Sinai in Hancock.
A " gift" may be either moral, as more faith, hope,
love, and the like; or it may be the spiritual receiving
of some natural object, as clothing, fruit, wine, —in
which case the recipient goes through in pantomime the
same motions as if he actually received the thing spiritually discerned; instances will be given in the account
of a mountain meeting. Sometimes the gift is a revelation in prose or verse, in which case the seer sings' or recites it; but it is for the Lead to say whether it is from
above or below -true or false.  Care is also taken to
provide in the holy laws that no times or season shall
be set for the fulfillment of any prophecy.
I must give you some specimens of these Shaker gifts
in verse.  Here is one fiom  "Job of old," to whom
it seems the waters of the river of life have not proved
quite a Helicon.  Few will think them  equal to some
remarks of his recorded in the Old Testament.
You've much to suffer, much to bear,
Ill body here I know,
But if you're faithful you shall share
My blessing as you go.
Be wise, my child, in all your way,Be careful what you speak,Be on your guard, both night and day,
And labor to be meek."
Another, in the unknown tongue:
0  que won wister wa,
We quon questa ka,
Quo con vister we,
Wo zon zane ke,




144                 TAGHCONIC.
Que wain wisna quo,
Se nain quisna woo,
We sain win no haw,
Ka ween na na Wah."
Another, half and half:
" Te he, te how, te hoot te te hoot,
Me be mother's pretty papoose,
Me ting, me dance te I diddle um,
Because me here te whities come."
And so on, by the dozen pages.
All are supposed to be sung through the instrument
or medium, by the spirit of some departed saint.
From the region in which they originated, and from
great similarity in their character, I have no doubt the
"spiritual rappings" now in vogue had their root in
Shakerism.  The  Millennial Church  have  always
claimed to hold communion with the unseen world.
MOUNTAIN MEETINGS.
About the year 1841, a special revelation was received, through the "instrument" at Lebanon, commanding all the societies of "our Zion upon earth"
to select a spot upon some mountain or hill near their
respective villages, for a Most Holy Place of Worship.
Accordingly, the brethren at Hancock, following the
guidance of an angel, and armed with pickaxes, spades,
and like instruments, marched, one day, up the hill
which is now called Mount Sinai, and came to a halt
upon the place which the angel designated. Here they
at once fell to work, and, having cleared about a third
of an acre of stones, trees, and rubbish, graded it in
that perfect manner characteristic of all Shaker work.




MOUNTAIN MEETINGS.             145
This plat was afterwards surrounded with a plain,
white strip fence, and a lower fence erected around a
small space in the centre, in the form of a flattened
hexagon. This latter is called the fountain, and is
fabled to be filled with spiritual water, for the cleansing
of the nations. Within it is a marble slab, some four
feet high, with an inscription stating that it was placed
there by command of the Lord Jesus Christ, — and
much more.
This stone, and the wild processions up the mountain, have given rise to the popular story, that the
Shakers one night hunted the Arch Fiend up the
mountain, and there having slain and buried him,
danced around his grave in triumph. It is not unlikely
that in some of their Walpurgis revels they may have
performed some such heroic feat — for nothing is
foreign to, nor incredible of, Shaker superstition; but
if so, it was only a single performance, and not the
staple of the mountain meetings; nor has it any connection at all with the marble slab.
I gave you in my last, some account of a common
Sunday meeting; these, however, are tame affairs when
compared with the riotous spiritual feasts on the mountain tops. These are the great festivals of the sect;
old men and children, young men and maidens, are
alike elated with the idea of going on to the hill top.
All Shakerdom is agog; the strong and healthy walk;
the sick and feeble brave the dangers of a venturesome
ride up the steep ascent.
Before starting, each person receives a spiritual
dress of the most fanciful splendor. A tunic of scarlet,
gorgeous with gold buttons, lace, and bullion, together
12*




146                TAGHCONIC.
with a full dress of a corresponding magnificence,
adorns each individual of the procession. All this, it
must be understood, is entirely spiritual, and visible
only to gifted eyes. It is, however, donned with none
the less seriousness; article by article it is taken from
a visionary chest by an Elder, and gravely received by
the wearer, —while, to prevent awkward adjustments,
two little angels stand near, by way of valets de chaimbre, or lady's maids.
Thus splendidly arrayed, the procession moves up
the hill until it reaches the "Walnut Grove."  Here
they spend some thirty minutes in preparatory exercises, and then move on again, until they reach the
holy ground, when each makes seven low obeisances
and enters upon it.
These meetings are designed to be peculiarly free,
lively, and impressive; here the spirit of the Millennial
Church displays itself without reserve, and a special
outpouring of the spiritual gifts is always expected.
There is preaching, praying, singing, prophecying, dancing, whirling, twisting, and all manner of contortions.
The chief attractions, however, are the "gifts,"- of
which I shall give you a couple of specimens. Perhaps
a sister is "under operations," and exclaims, "Oh!
Mother Ann is here, and sends her love to the brothers
and sisters."
"What is it like?" asks an Elder.
"Oh! like little bright, shining balls," answers the
inspired sister; and forthwith she commences tossing
the little airy nothings among the crowd, who all strive
to catch them, with the most ludicrous earnestness.
Then, perhaps, a brother shouts, " There is sponge and




MOUNTAIN MEETINGS.             147
towels in the fountain, for the people to bathe;" and
all go through a pantomimic bathing, - much in the
style and with all the unction of Charlotte Cushman,
in the hand washing scene in "Macbeth."
At noonday a great feast is held. The anointed
seers go forth to shake imaginary trees, whence they
gather invisible oranges, grapes, figs, and all manner of
delicious fruit, - to do which on the Berkshire hills, in
a backward Spring, one would say requires a pretty
vigorous fancy. The anointed pick up the fruit in baskets, and placing them, with mutual aid, on their shoulders, stagger under the load to -the invisible tables, where
it is arrayed with other delicate viands prepared in the
same way. Around the table are now placed real deal
seats, — the imagination, even after going through all
this, not being strong enough to sustain two hundred
gross weight of Shaker saint.
All being seated,- except the anointed seers, who
wait upon the others, - they eat and are filled with
ideal food, they drink and are drunken with ideal wine.
By enlarging the number of revellers, the description
of the Barmecide feast, in the "Arabian Nights Entertainments," would be perfect for a Shaker feast on the
Berkshire hills.
The dinner being over, the revellers are called upon
to pay their tithes; that is: the gifted ones, being
seated at the imaginary table, the others wait upon
them, while the same mummery is gone through as
before.
With much more of this sort of thing, the day wears
out, and the performers return to the matter-of-fact
duties of every day life.




148                TAGHCONIC.
I might give you pages more of peculiarities of this
sort, but with this brief abstract of only a few of them,
space compels me to close.
I beseech you, my philosophical friend, to consider
well the phenomena they present.




CHAPTER XV.
THAT EXCURSION TO  GREYLOCK.*
You have asked me to describe to you my visit of
last Summer to Greylock, and I have promised to comply with your request - but now that I have the paper
before me, and attempt to fulfil my promise, I am sensible how  inadequate words of mine are to describe
what I there saw; and I can more fully than ever
before feel the truth of those lines of Wordsworth:
Ah! that beauty, varying in the light
Of living Nature, cannot be portrayed
By words, nor by the pencil's silent skill,
But is the property of him alone
Who hath beheld it, noted it with care,
And in his heart recorded it with love."
To all those who may read this letter I would say -
go to Greylock, see it and commune with it yourselves,
for no description can give you an idea of the vast
reality. I trust, too, that when you go, it may be in
company with friends such as those with whom  it was
my lot to visit the Mountain, - for kindred mind, taste,
and feeling are essential in companions viewing together
the beautiful and grand, -such companionship, indeed,
* A friend has kindly favored me with this spirited description of an excursion to the most lofty mountain in Massachusetts.




150                TAGHCONIC.
must at all times add greatly to our enjoyment; but
under no circumstances is it so much felt, so much I
may say of a necessity, as when our thoughts are exalted by gazing on some great work of Nature. And I
know of few things which create a more permanent
bond of friendship between persons of kindred mind,
than being associated together at such times. But to
my promise. Greylock is by far the most interesting
of all the mountains in our vicinity. It is the highest,
and the most frequented, on account of the surpassingly
fine view which its summit affords, overlooking, as it
does, some of the most varied and beautiful scenery in
the northern States. Nor must it be forgotten, in
enumerating the claims of this mountain to distinction,
that it serves as a sort of everlasting barometer to the
whole surrounding country, affording, at all times, a
sure guide as to the prospective state of the weather.
Seldom does a pic-nic party set off in this region, without first looking toward old Greylock for encouragement; and if, after they have started, they see the clouds
gathering around its summit, they delay not to gather
up their baskets, and fly with all speed to a safe retreat
from the storm which they know is impending. Thus
is old Grandfather Whitehead consulted by all the
neighborhood, for information as to sunshine or storm;
and one thus learns to feel for him a sort of affection, or
rather a neighborly feeling, before visiting him and
making his acquaintance on still more intimate terms.
The best point from which to start on the ascent of the
mountain, is Williamstown, though many choose North
Adams. The reason for preferring the former place, is,
that the hotels there are better provided with civil




EXCURSION TO GREYLOCK.            151
attendants and intelligent guides, than at North Adams.
On the occasion of our ascent, most of the party went
from North Adams, and found much cause to repent of
the choice, - while a few, who differing from the main
body, went up from Williamstown, fared much better
than we did; and in the foregoing remarks, therefore,
I merely give the result of our own experience.
The pathway up the mountain side is rough, but
filled with beauty; and some of the openings in the
woods almost persuade one that the days of fairy gambols are not yet past, but that in these spots, in these
very rings of fresh, green grass — so fresh and green
that they seem just to have awakened from their
Winter sleep -the elfin revels must still be nightly
held. One little wild wood circle I shall never forget,
formed by fir trees so densely shaded with thick foliage
as to exclude a single peep from the bright face of Sol;
while the grass thus growing was of a light, moss color,
of that peculiar green seldom to be found, except in
small tufts, by a shady brook side. And then the
silence and repose of the place had the effect of awing
one, as it were, and making one superstitious, in spite
of one's self. A shout from our party in advance disturbed our reveries, and no doubt put to flight the elves
themselves, who were at that moment coming to occupy
their room of state, — for I feel sure that had we
remained only a little while longer, we should have
seen more than the pen of the author of " Pilgrims of
the Rhine" has yet been able to describe, of forest
fairy gayety.
We follow the sound of voices from  our friends
ahead, and on coming up to them are surprised into




152                  TAGHCONIC.
forgetfulness of the beauty we have regretfully left, for
here another scene bursts upon us, as we turn a little
aside from  the pathway, and, like "Aladdin, or the
Wonderful Lamp," we leave one garden of enchantment only to enter another of greater beauty. Oh,
this world of ours! how filled it is with objects which
elevate and ennoble our thoughts and affections, —if
we but seek for them where we ought!  Amid God's
works how sure are we to feel.
O GOD   O good beyond compare!
If these, Thy meaner works, are fair,If thus Thy bounties gild the span
Of ruined earth and sinful man,
How glorious must the mansions be
Where Thy redeeme cd shall dwell with Thee!"
The sun is getting low, and we have still a long steep
to climb; so, after we have refreshed ourselves with a
drink from  a rill of sparkling clear water, we begin
our ascent with renewed zest.  The beauty about us
sufficing us for food,- for, save our sup of Adam's ale
we have tasted nothing since an early breakfast, at
starting, - totally is the world below us now forgotten.
Dinner is supplied by our pass-word, " Excelsior."
Some of us linger to gather the wild flowers that are
growing plentifully about us, and constantly, by their
beauty, beguile us from  our path; suddenly we are
startled by shouts which echo through the wood like the
yells of the red men, and one of our party, with the
agility of a well trained sailor (as he was) soon ascends
the trunk of a tall tree, and from a seat which appears
to us dangerously insecure, echoes shout for shout, till
the remaining few of our party, who had come by way




GREYLOCK.                 153
of Williamstown, make their appearance; and as they
stop to tell us of the good dinner which they partook
of at that place, we begin to feel a degree of curiosity
to see what the contents of the baskets with which they
are well provided are; so, casting our glance forward,
we resolve not to turn to the right or left till we gain
the mountain top,- nor with this resolution are we
long in so doing.
The scene below us is somewhat dimmed by an August evening's haze, which mellows, though it circumscribes, our view, and adds beauty to what was already
too beautiful for description. Far off in the distance
we see the hills around our own home mountains, as we
call them there, but here appearing as gentle undulations, above the otherwise level surface of the ground.
Still farther off and still more dimly seen, rises the
range of the Kaatskills, with the noble Hudson mirrored at their base. Fill up the picture with a fertile
country, dotted with villages and mountain lakes, and
beautifully interspersed with woodland, and you have,
if your imagination is sufficiently vivid, the scene that
lay before us. Silently we gaze and drink in the
beauty by which we are surrounded on all sides, till
the first impressions of awe and wonderment having in
a measure subsided, sly, furtive glances are cast, by the
less romantic of our party, towards the baskets which
have been companions of our ascent. Soon more active
measures are taken, and the claims of hunger now
fairly prevailing over us all, we sit down to a supper
which the gods and goddesses on Olympus might have
envied. Oh, the luxury of a good appetite, and food
to satisfy it!
13




154               TAGIICONIC.
Night is now coming on, and all objects about us
begin to have a shadowy, spectral appearance. So a
large fire is lighted under a giant stump, and we gather
about it, each one indulging, like Ik Marvel, in his own
reveries. At length the moon begins, to rise, and as
her silver sheen appears above the horizon, we grow
eloquent, and her potent spell brings out our poetical as
well as romantic thoughts. Absent friends are remembered with a sigh, and as we turn to those next us, to
share our thoughts, we feel that "mind may act on
mind, though bodies be far divided."
The moon, as if conscious how intently we were
watching her, rose more majestically than usual, and
the light clouds, as they coquetted about her, had
more beauty and assumed more variety of shape
than we had ever before observed in them. Here we
sat till long past midnight, and so intensely were we
enjoying the wildness of the scene as to forget that
sleep was "Nature's kind restorer." But some of the
more prudent of our party urged us to seek rest.
Retiring, therefore, to the Tower (a ricketty structure)
on the mountain top, we betake ourselves to the so
called rest, and a more ludicrous scene never presented
itself to my mind, than that of our party, now prepared for sleeping during the remainder of the night.
Some sitting upright, against the sides of the building;
some stretched upon the planks of the floor, which had
been raised so as to form a sort of inclined plane; some
with their hats drawn over their faces; some more
careful to preserve the line of beauty and grace, were
drawn up like a cat in a chimney corner, thus exhibiting
the effect of the double curve; while a few, too merry




NIGHT AND MORNING.              155
for sleep, remained standing, lookers-on in this strangely
sorted bed-chamber. A  dim  light from  one candle
served to render visible about enough of each figure to
distinguish it, and to throw out the evident discomfort
of the sleepers, at resting in so rude a place. But
how absurd it is, when parties go on such wild excursions as this one was, to expect reserve, or any of the
etiquette of refined life.
The morning soon dawned, and, to our great disappointment, the sunrise was obscured by a heavy mist.
Yet we were amid the clouds, and had the rain poured
down a deluge, it had not damped more than our
clothing, -for, with spirits gay as larks, we ascended
to the top of the Tower, so as to obtain a better view
than we had been able to get, on the preceding evening.
But the mist continued to roll along the valley below,
and the clouds to envelope us above, for some time;
gradually, like a dissolving view, the vapory veil begun
to be withdrawn, and the sunshine to illuminate and
animate Nature. "Glorious! glorious i" resounded on
all sides; and glorious indeed was the scene, as the sun
suddenly revealed the world of beauty below us;dense masses of clouds and vapor, rolling along and
assuming in their changes all forms and hues, fantastic
as well as grand.
Here we see a cathedral, with the light streaming
through its colored windows; there the Colosseum;
and again a mass of cloud, so gloriously gilded by the
morning rays as to make it too beautiful and grand to
be compared to any work of man, or earthly object;
and we could have wished to linger there always,
watching the Protean changes as they passed before us.




156                TAGHCONIC.
But would our feelings have remained as joyous as
they then were? The air seemed truly to have a
most exhilarating influence; and could our temperance
friends have seen us then, they might almost have been
induced to frame a new  "Maine Law," placing mountain air on the same footing as intoxicating drinks.
Happily, however, we felt no ill effects, as a consequence of this new phase of intemperance, but partook
of a hearty breakfast, with an appetite and relish such
as only mountain air can give. Our chickens were
broiled on red-hot stones, a worthy divine acting as
chief cook on the occasion; and the ashes and charmed
coals which cling to them, and the primitive fashion in
which we were obliged to eat them, only served to
make us enjoy the meal with greater zest and mirthfulness.
After breakfast we began our journey homewards,
yet, like Lot's wife, casting many a lingering look
behind, —and at each step down our steep pathway,
losing some of our gay-heartedness; for we felt that
we were going back to the world, with its iron rule
which cramps and confines our best and purest feelings.
But at home again, home comforts about us, and amid
the usual routine of life, we remember our journey as
a pleasant pause in life, a shrine for memory to return
and refresh itself at, when cares and trials make us
weary.
Again I would say, go to Greylock. "Commune
with your own heart, and be still."




CHAPTER XVI.
ABOUT OUR CATTLE SHOW.
THE Festival of all festivals, the two days for which,
in the opinion of our rural population, all other days in
the round year were made, are those of the Cattle
Show and Fair of the County Agricultural Society.
This is the shining goal of the year's race. Dreaming
of a silver cup, or at least " honorable mention," at the
great anniversary, the farmer tills his soil, tends his
flocks and herds, and is careful for many things, in sunshine and storm. For the same momentous occasion
the busy fingers of his wife and daughters are plied,
while in the dairy, cleanliest receptacles are filled with
balls of golden-hued butter, and cylinders of odorous
cheese. In chambers, too, quaintly variegated needleworks bud and blossom, and snowy webs issue from the
antique loom.
Nor do the taper fingers of more dainty ladies disdain
to contend for the silver spoons; while retired gentlemen of fortune take a notable pride in the display of
luscious fruit and mammoth vegetables.
The village beaux prize the day as an occasion for
the exhibition of superior gallantry; and the village
magnates aspire to the offices in the gift of the Society
as no small distinctions in themselves, and possibly —
13*




158                TAGHCONIC.
pardon the suspicion - as stepping-stones to more substantial honors. Few among us but are at least amateurs in agricultural affairs, so that when the great
festival of Ceres approaches, our mountain Microcosmos
is all agog with excitement.
The country around is in a ferment of preparation.
Now is the harvest of the village tailors; now  the
paraphernalia of the village belles is cunningly renovated; ah! if we could take a sly peep beneath the
arcana of the fair artificers' hearts, what murderous
designs might be revealed! I think I see them now,
amid a wilderness of chintz, and delaine, and calico,
and ribbons, —a smile in their eyes and a blush on
their cheeks, planting a grace here, revealing a seducing
luxury there; sewing a Cupid into every fold, and preparing a snare in every treacherous ribbon. Ah!
wicked demoiselles!
Long before the appointed day, partners are secured
for the ride to town —not without coquetry, heart
burnings, and, it may be, bitter tears in secret places.
There is much significance in this excursion to the fair;
it is our sweet St. Valentines, when the gay rover takes
occasion to signify he shall roam no more. Then, if
there chance to be some deserted rival, comes the rush
of hot passions, — for, with all the holy calm we prate
of, they are as rife in the veriest hamlet on our hills, as
in any city of the land. Let him who feels the hot
hand of passion on him, thank God if he can fly to
crowds and the mad whirl of the city, and so escape
the demon - but tremble if he alone must in solitude
combat the fiend, with the cold stars above him, from
which no angel will descend to his aid, and only the




A RAINY DAY.                159
calm lake near, which seems to invite to rest.  God
forgive him if he seek it there!
Well! what with their mutual delight, and the envy
of rivals, the happy couple are happy, and you —if
you chance to meet them jogging cosily along the
road - do not smile too disdainfully, but consider,
weddings, and their interminable line of consequents,
are likely to be the end of it. Odd! is it not? Out of
the rustic amour, at which the high-bred, high bedizened Nothing smiles, come Robert Burns, Oliver
Cromwells, Daniel Websters, with all their mighty
words and deeds.
But our festival approaches, and the bustle around
us is increasing. The weather gets to be a subject of
deep interest; almanacs which predict "much — rain
- about - this - time," are in ill repute. Weatherwise old ladies, who love to prophecy smooth things,
are in high favor; while all vinegar-faced crones are
looked upon with a regretful reminiscence of the good
old laws against witchcraft.
In the week preceding the Cattle Show of the present
year, more eyes were turned heavenward than usual -
without, however, any extraordinary amount of piety.
There were alarming portents in the skies; an ugly
halo encircled the moon; mists hung dubiously about
Greylock; fearful things were told by the weatherlochs of the Taghconics; the gathering clouds flaunted
angry "mares' tails" far up the western sky; every
thing foretold a storm, and the storm did not fail to
come.
On the day before the Fair the rain fell in torrents;
and the next morning dawned dim, dreary, and driz



160                 TAGHCONIC.
zling, with an occasional brisk shower, by way of enlivenmient. Yet the town was already filling up with
visitors. All the preceding day you might have met
frequent upon the road little droves of fine oxen, beautiful Juno-eyed cows, and, led by a ring in the nose,
bulls of celebrity, with an air of surpassing obstinacy.
You might have passed, as well, uncomfortable looking
muttons, of enormous fleece, packed in rough, wooden
cages; or, you might have stared at some marvellously
prolific sow, surrounded by her progeny.
" Trigenta capitum foetus enixa jacehat;
Alba solo recubans, albi circum tbera nati."
All night long such pastoral processions tramped the
muddy road, and increased on the dismal morning of
the first of October. At an early hour, venerable ancestral vehicles and modernly ingenious contrivances for
locomotion, of the oddest possible kinds, began to dump
down squads of dripping passengers all about the
streets. Hardy belles, with skirts tucked up in liberal
folds, exhibiting something more than ancles, strode
fearlessly through the mud, while their gallants followed
after, with many a rueful glance at their bespattered
broadcloth. Those who brought wares betook themselves to the Society's halls, to superintend their arrangement; mere pleasure seekers - miserably mistaken pleasure seekers-went strolling lugubriously
about, or congregated dismally in the steamy parlors of
the hotels.
But the day was not to be all so gloomy. At noon
the clouds rolled darkly away over the Hoosac, and the
sun burst gloriously forth upon the drenched earth.




THE CATTLE SHOW.              161
Prettier faces and neater forms began to appear among
the crowd, and, now and then, a dashing equipage,
warmed out by the sun like a butterfly, rolled along the
street. We followed the living current to the centre
of attraction, — the show of cattle, —where, stationed
around a large field, we found our four-footed friends
of the road ruminating as composedly as if in their
native pastures. The equanimity with which they received alike the criticisms and encomiums of visitors,
was matter for our especial admiration. One would
wish to divine, from their quiet and meditative air,
what they thought of all the pother about them.
The nice points of the juries of award were about
as intelligible to us as the jargon of a Shaker psalm;
nevertheless, we ignorantly admired the sturdy forms
and brawny necks of the bulls, the distended udders of
"the milky mothers of the herd," and were duly astonished at the marvellous obesity of the swine. The
lithe limbs and glossy arched neck of a splendid stallion, gave occasion to my companion to indulge in a
series of poetic rhapsodies, after the manner of Job, —
to which I listened in more humble imitation of the
same patient patriarch, although, truth to confess, my
own imagination was totally absorbed in the contemplation of certain delicate suckling pigs, that were pictured
vividly to my fancy, at the culminating point of their
brief existence, with a lemon in each mouth and other
appropriate surroundings. It was evidently time to
dine.




162                  TAGHCONIC.
SECOND DAY.
On the bright and beautiful morning of the second
day of the Fair, we again sallied forth, in search of
adventures. The streets were densely thronged with
all sorts of people, seemingly like ourselves, with no
very definite notion of what they were after; —
"' Like a flock of sheep,
Not knowing and not caring whither
They come or go - so that they fool together."
My memory is mazed with the recollection of that
motley crowd. The representative from Peachem, with
gingerbread under one arm and " umberell" under the
other, jostled the gloved and caned exquisite from
Broadway; and the traveller who could contrast this
with the great fairs of Europe was favored with the
opinion of the youth whose eyes had hardly peeped
over the Berkshire hills. Here and there, men famous,
the world over, in politics and literature, went about
moralizing, perhaps, - or, more likely, watching that
most animated part of the scene,
" The lassies with sly eyes,
And the smile settling in their sunflecked cheeks,
Like noon upon the mellow apricot."
Oh, those sly-eyed lassies! There was one of them,
-a most fairy-like creature, with such a delicate and
taper waist, with such a foot and ancle, with such an
aristocratic face and air, as would have furnished Willis
a model for a dozen countesses. I set the owner down
in my own mind as the daughter of some village clergyman, or at the very least, of the'Squire, —and




THE COUNTRY LASSIE.                163
lingered near, hoping some one might pass who could
present me; or if that failed, that I might catch some
silvery syllables from those lips that curled so like a
red rose leaf, — for I confess to having been a little,
just a little "struck."  But no one seemed to know
her, and for a wonder she kept silent.
But at length she spoke.  Ye gods! such words!
Turning to a friend, she exclaimed, - shall I repeat it?
"I say, Sall; d' ye'spose Jim's sold all that cider
o' his'n?  Goll darn him! "
Do you recollect the scene in "Faust," where the
hero was so much disgusted with his fair partner,
because -
":A red mouse, in the middle of her singing,
Sprang from her mouth."
And how Miephistophiles replied, —
" That was all right, my friend,
Be it enough the mouse was not grey;
Do not disturb your hour of happiness
With close consideration of such trifles."
My mouse was grey, and no trifle at all.  Think of
it; that odious sentence leaping out of the prettiest
little mouth in the world, and suddenly putting an end
to a full half hour of wasted affection! I wish I knew
the name of my charmer; I am  sure it would be a
talisman against all such spells in the future.
But to return to our motley crowd, through whom,
by dint of determination we pressed our way and took
our stand upon an open common, near the Railroad
Depot.  Here booths, stalls, tents, merry-go-rounds,




164                TAGI-ICONIC.
and raree shows had sprung up in the night, like so
many mushrooms. Babel and Vanity Fair! Such a
discord of tongues and chaos of merchandise one does
not often meet. It seemed all the pedlars, from Quoddy
head to Byram river, had met in convention. So many
shining, twinkling eyes, oily tongues, nasal twangs,
"' tews," " dews," and " yeous " I did not believe could
be concentrated on one little acre of ground. If you
think "Sam Slick" a caricature, I beg you will visit
this common at our next cattle show. But, on second
thoughts, if you are over sensitive about your nerves or
your pocket you were better away; for, escaping from a
vender of Shakspeare, Milton, and "Venus in Boston,"
you are beset by a villainous smelling compound, known
- on this occasion only - as " oyster stew; " flying
thence, as for your life, you fall upon the razor-strop
man, and finally, having run the gauntlet of pedlars,
showmen, and auctioneers, you take desperate refuge in
the jaws of some gigantic show-tent —as we did in one
where, a stupendous hand-bill informed us, could be
seen all the notabilities of the day.
A "York shilling" procured us the entree and an
introduction to a waxen crowd of horrors and heroes,
very distinguishable, the one from the other, by the
aid of labels.
Coming from the showman's tent with the deliglltful
consciousness of a well-spent shilling, we found the
people moving towards the scene of the ploughing
match, which was to take place on a field some two
miles distant. This is the most exciting part of the festival; the scene has all the interest of the race ground.
Upon this arena the strength and training of the best




RALPH, THE FARMER.             1 65
cattle in the county are tested, and the skill and coolness of the flower of our ploughmen are displayed,
before dames whose favor is quite as well worth winning as that of any who ever, in chivalric tournament,
inspired blood guiltiness. The scene of the contest is
very brilliant and imposing, yet this year we did not go
to witness it; but while it was passing, preferred to
listen to a little story of simple and unhappy love,
which happened in connection with one of these ploughinog matches, many years ago.
lalpb1, the  farmer.
In a sunny nook, among the hills of a neighboring
town, lived, many years ago, a young farmer, "the
only son of his mother, and she a widow."  His patrimony was small, but admirably cultivated. In the
whole valley was no better husbandman than he; and
you looked in vain for greener fields, tidier barns, and
sleeker cattle, than those which called him owner. The
little brown cottage under the elms was the envy of all
romantic travellers who passed that way.
It was indeed a pretty cottage; any kindly, loving,
simple people could have lived there, as did the widow
and her son, very happily. Not that Ralph - that was
the son- did not think it at times a little lonely; but
then it was not with that desolate solitude which now
pervades the spot, but with a half pleasant loneliness,
sweetly suggestive of future companionship. No bachelor is half so incomplete a being as your farmer; no
young man half so matrimonial. Invariably the first
thing he does, upon coming into possession of himself,
14




166                TAGHCONIC.
upon his twenty-first birth-day, is to look around -if,
indeed, he has not already done so —for some fair
hands into which he may at once surrender his new
and uneasy freedom. A true farmer makes the best
lover in the world, and a still better husband. I mention this for the benefit of any young lady who may, at
the present reading, be balancing in her heart a whole
souled man against stiff dickeys and patent leather
boots.
Ralph was no exception to the general rule, but
rather a notable example of it. His great, earnest,
warm heart was from childhood continually seeking out
something on which to bestow its exuberant love.
There was not a human being about but had a corner
in his affection; not an animal, a tree, a flower, nor
shrub, upon his farm, but his soul twined itself around
it. His heart even yearned towards the grey rocks,
and he never cut down the bright flowered thistle without a sigh.
No wonder that when Ralph came to the district
school he should feel a kindly thrill toward the rosy
cheeked little maidens upon the opposite benches. It
was characteristic of Ralph, that, whatever was beautiful to the eye, his soul yearned towards it with a
devotion that would perceive no inward defect. His
old teacher said, years afterwards, that he would sit for
hours watching the piles of golden clouds in the west;
and that he cared more for the green and golden streaks
upon an apple than for its melting flavor.  It was
an unfortunate omen, that no poisonous flower was
shunned by him, if only its hues were fair and silken.
When Ralph finally fixed his heart upon one object,




RALPH IN LOVE.               167
he was guided by this same fatal love of beauty. It
chanced that just across the little valley stood the mansion of the great farmer - the colossal rich man of
the neighborhood, who was always addressed as the
"'Squire," and, moreover, by service in the councils of
the Commonwealth, had obtained a right to the prefix
of " Hon." to his name, upon newspapers, letters, pub.
does., and all post-office matter whatever. This gentleman had a daughter — one of those marvels of
beauty which now and then electrify a county. The
wrinkled gossips, who were fair and young with herwhose bosoms were full and white when they used to
thrill with envy, to hear her praises - these gossips, so
old and withered now, so young and glowing then,
speak, even at this day, of the charms of MARIA with
an exaggeration of praise which reminds one of the
hyperboles in which the old poets describe their mistresses. The imagination strives, painfully, to lift the
curtain of faded years to look upon her loveliness.
But the tide of time reveals only, now and then, a fitful
gleam; as the water, stilled for a moment, might reveal
the placid countenance of the drowned maiden beneath,
and then again distort it with its ripples. Yet, even
so, we feel something of the beauty which moved our
grandsires.
That Ralph should fall madly in love with such a
being, was as natural as that his fruit should ripen
when the sun shone upon it. Looking upon the matter
lightly, there was no prudential reason why he should
not. The lady was rich, beautiful, and virtuous. The
father, "for all his greatness," was a blufl, hearty,
generous old man, with a determined liking for Ralph,




168               TAGHCONIC.
which put all opposition from that quarter out of the
question. Indeed, as it afterwards turned out, he had
set his heart upon having Ralph for a son-in-law.
Maria smiled quite as sweetly upon her suitor as even
a loving woman should. It would have been strange,
had not the tongue of envy whispered that she was
doing quite her share of the wooing; indeed, I think I
have heard that shrivelled slander hissed by thin and
bloodless lips, that, perhaps, had breathed it in their
days of cherry ripeness.
The engagement was looked upon as a settled thing,
by all the world, - that is, by the half hundred families who formed the hamlet. Worldly prudence and
true affection, for once combined, it really seemed as
though the course of true love had at last got into a
smooth channel.
Doubt all facts which contravene the philosophy of
Shakspeare and the ages! You must have known
women with a wealth of loving, melting smiles at perfect command, that look so natural and heart-born
you would sooner doubt your own senses than their
truth; with an eye which holds you in a spell you
would rather perish of your faith than break. You
must have met such —everybody does- though you
could not comprehend them, could not, by any analysis,
separate the fair show from the ugly reality. PWe call
such, with as much truth as triteness, "fascinating."
Heaven be your help if you ever feel their power upon
you i -You were better in the grasp of the wild Devil!
Yet under such fascination was Ralph; such terrible
power had Maria, -although she was probably unconscious of it, when she first began to wind her meshes,




MARIA.                  169
like the coils of a beautiful serpent, around the heart of
our poor Ralph -alas! too happy to be so enfolded.
It is not unlikely she deemed she was employing only
the innocent arts by which a maiden seeks to obtain a
lover, and thought that by and bye she would settle
down into a quiet, staid little wife. But flattery had
already begun to do its work in her bosom; vanity
surely, and not slowly, was becoming the moving spring,
the living principle of her existence. In most girls it
would have been content to display itself in some
knackeries of dress, some prettiness of accomplishment,
or at most, in some teasing of their lovers, to show
their power over them. But Maria was not an ordinary girl; she had genius -I might better say a
demon- in her.
Daily and systematically she displayed her real
power over, and her feigned contempt for, her lover, -
while she continued to bind him yet closer to her. I
do not know that she deliberately determined to continue this course for months, but she found her daily
pleasure in it, and had too little virtue ever to bring
the day of reform nearer than to-morrow. Ah! if
none did evil but those who resolved to lead a life of
sin, this would be a pure world of ours. It is the day
laborers in Satan's vineyard who do the work.
All the village - except the unsuspecting Ralph and
the'Squire - were familiar with the character of Maria. The village dames, firm friends of Ralph, shook
their heads sadly, and prophecied that no good would
ever come of such a wooing; the young men murmured
indignantly that the frankest and best heart among
them was the victim of a selfish coquette; even the
14*




170                TAGHCONIC.
minister, who for many years had taken a genial interest
in the loves of his parishioners, took Maria seriously to
task, for her sinful follies; but in vain.
Matters went on in this way until the Fall, when
Maria's brilliant attractions procured her an invitation
to pass the Winter in the city, with Mrs. N., a relative,
who wished a country beauty, to add piquancy to her
soirees. The young people parted as lovers part, with
some tears, some pretty protestations, and probably a
few or more kisses, - such is the custom, I am told.
Months passed away - weary, anxious months for
Ralph; for the post brought few letters from Albany,
while scandal whispered many unwelcome rumors of
Maria's course of life there. Indeed, to let pass other
matters, one cannot imagine a society better fitted to
foster her darling vice of vanity, than that which
thronged the gay saloons of the dashing Mrs. N.; the
more so, when we remember that the giddy girl was
set up there for the sole purpose of receiving the scentless incense of fashionable homage.
But the Spring came, and with it Maria's return to
the country. The lovers- shall I still call them so?met; met as they had parted, for one had the same
ready smile, and the other the same confiding heart.
It was a delicious Summer evening- one of those
twilights when the good GoD pours out his love visibly
over the earth, and summons yours to meet it; when
you send forth that love, unmindful that it can anywhere
meet that which shall turn its sweetness to gall; when,
if by chance, you think of sin and hatred and sorrow,
it is as of things pertaining to another sphere, with pity




A COQUETTE'S WHITM.            171
for whose inhabitants your heart is yet more softened.
It was on such an evening as this, that Ralph spoke of
his loves, his hopes,- hardly of his fears; how should
he, in such a world of hope?
That was an hour for a true woman's nature to display itself. Had she buried herself in the ashes of
coquetry; had she been wandering in a maze of fashionable flirtations; had she wrapt herself in affectations
as in a garment, — now was the hour to cast off the
delusive shows and appear in native truth.
Ralph, in the deceitful light of that smile and that
hour, expected a full outgushing of returned affection.
There he was wrong - that he had no right to demand - although, after the parting and meeting kisses,
it was, after all, not unnatural that an unsophisticated
young man should have been led into error on that
point. What he was entitled to, in default of the
other, was a plain, kind, unmistakable rejection. He
received neither; plainness was neither in Maria's
nature nor her purposes. She smiled, more sweetly
than ever; looked all a lover could ask, " But really she
had not thought of how far this matter should be
carried; she had been content with enjoying the passing hour of innocent love " — here she smiled yet
more sweetly —"lbut its present joys had been too
seducing to allow a thought for the future;" and much
more sentimental falsehood of the same kind.
Both were silent for a few moments, when /iaria, as
if struck with a new thought, exclaimed: "You know
how much my father admires your skill as a farmer -
I, too, am not insensible to it; carry off the first prize
at the next ploughing match, and I will be yours."




172                TAGHCONIC.
A strange condition this seemed to Ralph, and a poor
return for long years of affection, bestowed as unreservedly as his had been; but he was too proud to
remonstrate, and, perhaps, too much enamoured to
refuse the challenge.  But we may ask, was this a
maidenly device to cover the surrender of a heart
already won?  Was it a freak of ill-digested romance,
or a plan to minister to a woman's vanity?  CWe may
hereafter see.
September came, and with it Mrs. N. came to visit
the i" Squire," and to attend the " cattle show."  At the
same time, two or three young men from the city took
up their quarters at the hotel of the neighboring town,
to the great profit of the livery stable and the bar.
Their jaunty vehicles were seen daily at the gate of the
old farmer, to his not small annoyance; and the villagers
thought the noises they raised, on their late return to
town, were not a little disreputable.
At last the day of the contest came. Ralph drove
his team confidently upon the field, and looked anxiously
around the crowd to catch a glimpse of his mistress.
She was not with her father, in the old fashioned family
coach; but, after a weary search, his eye found her
seated in one of those jaunty vehicles which he so cordially detested, and by the side of one of those dandies
whom he detested still more. A pang of jealousy for
a moment shot through his heart; — it would have
been sharper could he have heard the bitter jest she at
that moment bestowed upon her "barn-yard knight."
But the signal for the contest was given, and Ralph
was at once absorbed in its excitement. I have not
space to describe it; enough, that Ralph won, and, re



THE CAUSE AND EFFECT.            173
ceiving his prize, set off at once in search of his mistress - as he, in the honest simplicity of his heart supposed- of his affianced wife.
The end of our little story will not seem improbable,
to those who know, as I do, the tender, proud, but sensitive hearts, which beat under the broad breasts of our
mountain farmers. With imaginations nurtured among
the most romantic scenes of Nature, - often by familiarity with the most touching works of genius, their
love often approaches the highest poetic ideal,- almost
always transcends the conventional bounds of city
" affairs." Such, at least, was that of our friend Ralph,
whom we left in eager pursuit of his mistress.
That evening the widow was sitting by the table,
upon which the evening meal was placed in readiness;
sometimes casting a glance, from the window, down the
road, and at intervals bursting into a hymn as cheerful
as that of the kettle that sung cheerily over the fire.
"It is getting late," she said to herself, " Ralph is late,
to-night; he must have stopped at the'Squire's. Ah,
he stops long. Well, well, never mind, it will not be
so, by and bye;" and again the good mother smiled
cheerfully, - for the widow was much given to a cheerful smile, and a word in her own ear, when alone.
": Hark!" she continued, still to herself, "there's a
step upon the stoop, but it cannot be Ralph's." The
widow knew the firm, strong, elastic tread of her son,
as well as she did his open, manly countenance. No;
this could not be his, for it was a halting, aimless gait,
dragging itself along, with a clumsy and uncertain purpose. And yet, when the door opened, it was Ralph
who entered.  Still, it hardly seemed him, - so spirit



174                TAGHCONIC.
less, with that wandering, lacklustre eye, that vapid air,
those graceless, listless limbs, and not a word for his
mother.
" Ralph! Ralph!" she exclaimed, springing towards
him, "you are ill!  What ails you?  What has happened? You have worked too hard in this strife. You
have lost the prize?...It was cruel; but no matter,
Miss Maria will love you as well without it. Ralph!
Ralph! why don't you speak?"
"Miss Maria can't love Ralph," he replied, in a
drawling, idiotic tone; "Ralph is only a poor clodhopper."
We leave the distracted mother to be driven slowly
to the knowledge that her noble-hearted, high-minded
boy had become a brain-sick idiot.
Ralph had, after long search, found Maria at the
hotel, where her gay friends were rallying her on her
promise to Ralph, —playfully insisting that she was
now in honor bound to marry him. Ralph entered the
room just in time to hear the reply, in an irritated tone:
"Marry him! - No. Sooner one of the steers he
drives, than the awkward clodhopper!"
It was more than enough.
The good old'Squire insisted on taking Ralph and
his mother to his own home, where the latter soon died.
It would have been cruel to confine the harmless imbecile within walls, and he was permitted to wander
from house to house, among the hills, always meeting a
kind welcome at the hearths of the pitying farmers;
but he only muttered, continually, " Poor Ralph is only
a clodhopper; Miss Maria can't marry a clodhopper."




THE DESOLATE COTTAGE.             175
Maria, learning the terrible result of her trifling, and
fearing to meet the wrath of her father, consented to
fly to the city with the young man who had been her
companion for the day. Little was afterwards known
of her, in her native village. When, a few years afterwards, her father died, a lawyer from Pittsfield claimed
his estate in her name, and it was sold. At a yet later
day, there came a vague rumor that she was the wife
of a great East India merchant, in New York, and
lived surrounded by luxury. MZIansions, servants, and
equipages ministered to that vanity which in youth had
demanded a sacrifice — alas, how much more costly!
But no certain news came of her, and she never revisited the scenes of her youthful triumphs.  Sometimes
her name was there mentioned, and her story repeated,
but year by year it grew less familiar, until now only a
few decrepit dwellers in the past, love to recount it to
a patient listener to such old tales, like myself. Certain I am, that, although some of my old friends have
found the battle of life a hard combat, not one of them
would exchange, for a moment, her bitter struggle with
want and labor, for all the memory encumbered splendor of her ancient rival.
I lately visited the place where the cottage of Ralph
once stood. It was entirely desolate. The lightnings
had blasted even the feathery elm which used to overhang it; and it was bleached white, in the mountain
storms. Of the garden, only a single rose-tree remained, growing rank with leaves and cankered blossoms. Was it too fanciful to believe that Nature had
left them there - that tree and rose - memorials, the




176                TAGHCONIC.
one of the blighted manliness of the lover, the other of
the cankered prosperity of the coquette?
So ran the little story to which we listened, while
the Ploughing Match of 1851 was passing. When it
was ended, we proceeded to the hall, where the products of the orchard, the garden, the dairy, and the
household manufactory, were collected. Here we found
the most delicious fruits, - trophies won in hard combat with the Frost King, and carefully defended from
the raids which Winter, with all his hosts, makes over
the borders of Spring. Here, also, were great tubs of
butter, and cheese, for which epicures, with gloating
eyes, were zealously contending; and here were quilts,
of every variety of quaint pattern and embroidery,
resplendent with rich colors.  Whatever Berkshire
earth could be tortured into yielding; and whatever
the skill and taste of Berkshire women could create,
was there. Here, again, the matrimonial disposition of
our people appeared; the handsomest quilts were labelled'"wedding quilts;" the prettiest caps were "wedding night-caps," which, -alas, that this and that
should come together! — were significantly pinned to
some very handsome home-made cradles.
But, after all, the crowd of people was the thing best
worth one's notice. Once among them, individuality
was not to be dreamed of; it was the very height of
presumption to consider your legs, arms, or even your
head, as pertaining with any more propriety to yourself
than to your neighbor;- all were merged in one commonweal, or better, in one common woe. And then if,




TEE CROWD.                 177
by accident the mass was brought to a stand, the crash
of bones, stay-lacings, watch crystals, and like frangibles, was really frightful. Nothing but a chivalric
sense of duty could have induced me to go through the
entire exhibition.
15




CHAPTER XVII.
WVHAT  THEY  DO  AT  OTIS.
BY A LADY OF BOSTON.
VWHEN we left you, at the Stockbridge House, there
was a sort of half promise on my part, of sending you
a weekly epistle, recording all my goings and comings,
seeings and hearings. I wonder, now, how I ever came
to agree to such a thing; it must have been the work
of feelings softened by a parting "good bye! " to my
ever delightful Cousin George. The truth is, it would
take a whole fortnight of Otis to fill a sheet of lady
like paper; but I'll tell you what I'll do, - writing a
little, daily, I'll send you when we leave here the
whole, "at one fell swoop."
I am sorry you did not come with us to this quiet
little place, although you pretended to be ignorant of
its very existence. Our gentlemen say, trout is very
abundant in the streams, and pickerel in the lakes.
They go out soon after breakfast, with guns and fishing
rods, and usually come home laden with spoil.
But here I ought to give you some idea of our
whereabout. I am now in Sister M.'s room, which is
the best in the house, as is right and proper. Through
three windows, all in a row, the bright afternoon sun is
shining, making, if possible, more bright the red and




OTIS.                   179
orange of the carpet, the red and green of the bed
curtains, and the yellow and green of the furniture
generally, which, as you see, is all very gay. From
these same windows may be seen the whole village.
Tlie street, with its two churches standing vis-3t-vis;
the school house, the lawyer's little white office and
pretty dwelling house; the store just opposite, and a
little lower down the post-office and blacksmith's shop;
a number of neat cottages, and a few more aspiring
mansions.
Just back of the church, on the hill side, is the
village burying ground, close by the  "Doctor's " house,
as it should be.
From my window, at the back of the building, I see
a narrow strip of meadow, through which winds a noisy
little river, that somewhere beyond my ken "turns a
mill," but whether for the sawing of boards or grinding
of wheat, I cannot say. Then there is a small pond,
covered with quantities of yellow lilies of a most odious
odor. Over the pond is a bridge, crossing which you
find a very pleasant walk, up the "east road."  Wild
flowers are there, in great variety and profusion. To
me, accustomed to bouquets made to order, the freedom
to pick and choose here is very delightful. Our hostess
is astonished at the quantities of wild things which I
bring home from my rambles; and, when I tell her
that I think them  very beautiful, she says, "Well,
there's no accounting for people's tastes;" which is
very true, indeed.
Around us rise the Berkshire hills, from which come
down the most invigorating of breezes, — giving one
the rosiest of cheeks and the heartiest of appetites.




180                TAGHCONIC.
Breakfast, with us, I assure you is anything but a mere
ceremony; and the dinner bell is never an unwelcome
sound.
MIr. F., the occupant of the pretty white office,
and a very agreeable man, called last evening and
planned several excursions; among others, one to
"Otis Falls," which, he assures us, are well worth the
visiting. I have made the acquaintance of Mr. F.'s
two dogs, and think them both very interesting, in their
way. There is another, seemingly ownerless,- a sort
of canine loafer, following every one who encourages
him, and wagging his tail in token of friendship, if you
do but look at him. "Zach."- Zach. Taylor, they call
him - is a large black and shaggy animal, whose escort
is not always acceptable; but he seems to know that I
am a visitor, and very rarely allows ime to go out unattended.
Friday. - Yesterday, with a party from Lenox, we
visited the Spring, which gives its name to the " Cold
Spring Iron Works."  We had a delightful ride of
three miles, then a walk through a luxuriant turnip
field, and a pretty piece of woods, when suddenly we
found ourselves standing on the banks of a narrow
river, with a high, steep hill rising close behind us,
covered with silver birch. Half way up the hill-side a
rude seat had been placed among the trees, and just
below it is the beautiful spring, of whose clear, cold
waters every visitor is expected to drink, and afterwards to lave his hands in its pebbly basin. Around
we found some gorgeous cardinal flowers, foxgloves,
and many other flowers of unknown names, but with
bloom and fragrance not less sweet for that. %We are




TO THE FALLS.                181
happy and willing to testify that a prettier spot is not
to be found in Berkshire, nor colder water this side of
Greenland.
On our return, we looked into the "Forge," and saw
men hammering iron, as warm  as if there were no
" cold spring" within a hundred miles of them. Now,
Cousin, will you ever say again that you never heard
of such a place as Otis?
John has just come in with a pair of gloves, which
he "inclines to think need mending;" and I, like a
pattern cousin, am going to sew up the rips. So adieu!
MIonday. - On Saturday we went to the Falls. The
morning seemed specially made for our purpose, and
we started in the highest spirits. All the way the road
kept close by the little river, which here meets us at
every turn. Fine trees grew on either side of the
road, often intermingling their branches overhead, and
forming a sort of triumphal arch, "long drawn out."
The waters sparkled and gleamed up among the leaves;
the wild flowers -the laurel most beautiful of all —
were in full bloom; the birds sang sweetly; "in short,"
as Mr. Micawber would say, " everything was color de
rose."  Even Miss T. forgot that "her sun bonnet
made her look like a fright," and sat in perfect contentment.
We were almost sorry when we came to the little
village of Cold Spring, three miles from the village of
Otis, where we dined, and then laid our course for the
Falls. Here we separated from Mr. and Mrs. B., who
went round in the carriage, while we preferred climbing
up and over a very steep mountain, although it certainly did not present a very attractive appearance.
15*




182               TAGHCONIC.
Almost destitute of trees, and covered with short, dry
grass, so slippery was the way that we could hardly
keep our feet. But we were desirous of doing something " out of the common," so, with a boy for a guide,
we commenced our ascent.
There was something entirely amusing in slipping
down and being pulled up, in catching hold of alder
bushes for support, taking in breath to last another
trial, and then making it. When we did come to a
tree, that was a special blessing. Almost at the summit
we met with one -a very ancient broad-branched apple
tree, in whose shade we stayed a quarter of an hour.
It had fruit, too, — Mr. T.'s cane soon brought us a
specimen, and he insisted upon our eating it. Miss T.
made the attempt, and declared it entirely impossible;
but when John, with his most engaging smile, besought
her to eat half of his, she had not the heart to refuse.
Her brother muttered something about Eve and the
serpent. Yes; that was a pleasant quarter of an hour
under the old apple tree; while:Miss T. took the opportunity to alter the strings of her bonnet, Cousin Jack
talked an immense deal of poetry, and MIr. T. decorated
my hat with leaves from the old apple tree, vastly
admiring his own handiwork.
The remainder of the ascent was soon climbed; we
caught glimpses of houses, and saw before us an open
road; stone fences now came to be very frequent, and
we became proficients in climbing them. Crossing the
road we entered a rough-looking piece of woodland,
where we heard the roar of the water. It grew louder
and louder, as we descended into the wildest looking
ravine you can imagine. Rude steps were made to




THE FALLS.                 183
assist our descent, and we soon found ourselves in the
very presence of the Fall.
M. and her spouse were there, ready to "do the
honors," and seemingly on very intimate terms with
Majesty. Description is not my forte, or you should
have all the characteristics of the cataract, - its length,
breadth, quantity of water, and all that. You must
now be content to know that they are beautiful and
sublime, - beautiful enough to call forth all your
"Oh's" and "Ah's" of delight; grand enough to fill
you with admiration, without making you feel miserably insignificant in comparison, -a combination of
qualities much to be desired.
High rocks rise perpendicularly on either side, and
as far as the eye can reach, the river goes roaring and
foaming between them, in a very boisterous style. I
cannot think that, in all its course, it ever becomes a
quiet, orderly, well-behaved stream. I ought to speak
a good word for the Falls, for they got up a rainbow
for our especial benefit, - and Niagara could have
done no more. We stayed until the last moment possible; but when we set our faces homeward, we were
quite willing to abandon pedestrianism. Very tired
indeed we were, and yet even more delighted with our
day's excursion. Two days only remain, of our visit
here, so that you will not get a very long Otis journal.
Tuesday. - This morning I strolled into the burial
ground, and it struck me as the most uninviting place
in the village. I wondered if the dead could sleep well
beneath its sod. Nothing in the world could tempt me
to be buried there; I could never rest quietly. I
am sure no ghost of taste would think a moment of




184                TAGHCONIC.
walking in such a jungle of thistles and blackberry
bushes.
At Mount Auburn, where Nature and Art are both
in such perfection, my thoughts are occupied with the
beautiful sculpture, the rare trees, the lovely walks to
the exclusion of its silent inhabitants; but here, the
absence of every attraction compelled me to think of
the Unseen,- and, leaning against the rude fence, I
mused long, if not deeply, on that great mystery -
Death. [Godfrey thinks this latter much the more
proper and profitable subject for his fair friend's contemplation, and hopes it may occur again.]  Do not
suppose I am going to trouble you with my speculations; they were too vague, if I had the wish to do so.
It was curious how strongly came back to me my
old childish feelings, when, a little girl, I used to have
the gloomiest thoughts of being buried. The idea of
being carried out from my home, and left all alone in
the grave-yard, was very, very dreadful; many bitter
tears have I shed over my own obsequies. I envied
the mummies which I read of in my First Class Book,
" Who walked about
In Thebe's streets, three thousand years ago,"
and yet were standing up, if not walking. It seemed
to me that I should not fear death so much, if I could
be made like one of them, and placed in Sister Mary's
closet, which she visited two or three times every day.
Once I remember to have expressed a wish of the
kind, but the look of horror with which my proposition
was received, quite precluded any hope of such an
indulgence being granted.




ZACIH.                  185
Even now I have something left of that old feeling;
my spirit still loves its earthly tenement, as one does
the house in which he was born, and has passed many
years of joy and sorrow. I love to believe that my
own body will be raised a heavenly one, for I know my
spirit would not feel quite at home in an angel's form.
I was still in deep thought, when I heard a rushing
sound, and saw the blackberry bushes and thistles in
violent commotion. I was at first in great alarm, not
knowing what wild beast might have made his lair in
these savage haunts; and I was not a little relieved
when I saw my self-constituted esquire, " Zach," making
his way towards me. He seemed perfectly wild with
joy, at my unusually cordial reception, and accompanied me home without any refusals on my part.
This is my last day in Otis. With the hope of your
presence in Boston the coming Winter, and of many
letters in the meantime, I subscribe myself
Your affectionate
COUSIN WINIFRED.




CHAPTER XVIII.
PITTSFIELD YOUNG LADIES' INSTITUTE.
IT is like a picture in an old story book about
France Icl belle, with arching trees in front, a temple
and chateau in the back-ground, and maidens and
peasant-girls in all-is the scene at our Young Ladies'
Institute, of a pleasant Summer twilight. All its light
hearted inmates are out in full glee, with circling games
and ringing laughter, — the truest children of health,
content, and innocence.
But all are not in the giddy group; some have separated from it, and, in couples, with arms affectionately
intertwined, are slowly walking down the long paths,
pouring into each other's ears the precious secrets of
maiden confidence, —all the hopes, the dreams, the
fears which can find a lodging place in pure hearts.
Very precious are those hopes and fears; although
neither may ever be realized, yet shall they be a part of
life and a part of the woman in all her future. In this
life of ours, we pile dream upon dream, effort upon disappointed effort, until the apparent fruitlessness attains
to some sort of fruition and reality. There are few
things in poetry more beautifully and truthfully said,
than these lines of Henry Taylor:



YOUNG LADIES' INSTITUTE.             187'" The tree
Sucks kindlier nature from a soil enriched
By its own fallen leaves; and AMan is made
In heart and spirit from deciduous hopes,
And things which seem to perish."
Under the vine shaded bowers, or by the sparkling
fountain, sits here and there a solitary maiden, with
thoughts, perhaps, far away in a happy home; striving
to bring to her fancy the family group as it is in
the old homestead at the pleasant close of day. She
may well be pardoned if, even in this pleasant home of
learning, she steals a little while from young companionship, to let the warm but not bitter tears run freely
down her cheeks. She will soon rejoin the merry
circle, not the least merry there.
This Institute is becoming a marvel of beautiful completeness. Nothing in our village is more attractive to
a stranger's eye than its broad ornamental grounds,
with their winding walks and drives; their bowers,
trees, hedges, and shrubbery, in the centre of which
are grouped the chapel, gymnasium, and dormitories.
The chapel is a most chaste and elegant structure,
modelled accurately after that portico of the Erecthion
at Athens, dedicated to M3inerva Polias.  Classic antiquarians tell us that in this portico was the sacred
olive tree, created by Minerva at the foundation of
the citadel, and that here also was kept, guarded by
dragons, the Erichthonian image of the same goddess
— the Athenian Palladium. Perhaps there may be a
bit of pedantry in it, but one cannot help suggesting
that in our temple also is kept a Palladium, whose
safety is quite as essential to the well being of the State
as that of old was fabled to be to the welfare of Athens




188                TAGHCONIC.
- the education, virtue, and piety of American women.
I am afraid, now, some wicked youth will pursue the
simile farther, and add that our modern Palladium, like
the ancient, is guarded by dragons; to which I can only
reply, that I know no more amiable and pleasant people
than these same dragons, at least when off duty; I
cannot answer for other times.
This chapel is as chaste and beautiful within, as it is
without. On either side a broad passage way, paved
with blue and white marble mosaic, are arranged convenient rooms for classes, cabinets, and like purposes.
From this we ascend, by a broad and easy flight of
stairs, to a large, airy hall, handsomely frescoed, and
perfectly ventilated. The furniture of this room is very
rich and costly, especially the magnificent organ and
piano, — which, under the hands of M. Trenckler and
his pupils, are made to speak to the very soul. Few
of the musical lions, who of late have set the country
wild, have half the genius of this gentleman, who, with
the modesty of a master, shrinks from the public gaze.
In this chapel hall the school daily assembles. Here,
also, are held the Semi-Annual Examinations and the
Musical Soirees. I make it a point to attend these
examinations, both as a matter of pleasure and profit.
Poetry and philosophy, believe me, sound none the less
pleasantly when they come from rosy lips; no, nor any
the less truthfully. Why! I have seen an eminent D.D.
enter into a discussion with a witty Miss, on one of
these occasions, and the worthy divine did not come off
triumphant.
But, if I begin on this theme, there is no telling
where I may end; and besides, I should trench on the




YOUNG LADIES' INSTITUTE.         189
province of the honorables, the reverends, and the venerables, who will form the next examining committee.
What puzzles me, is how masculine vanity ever grew
so enormously as to fancy its possessor had more sconce
than womankind. It is strange, again, how the idea
ever obtained, that learning was a sort of compensating
perquisite for ugly women. One who attends an Institute Examination would say that beauty and brains go
as naturally together as strawberries and cream.
To tell of the delicious musical reunions would lead
me more widely astray than the dryer details of an
examination, -inasmuch as I love music as cordially
as I detest mathematics; yet I suppose the latter must
in some way be digested. Indeed, I am told some
young ladies " dote on them." It is odd to hear silver
toned voices rattling off plus and minus, sines and
cosines, arcs, segments and tangents, with as much zest
as "Ah, non giunge," or "Oft in the stilly night."
But, seriously, one thing speaks well for the balance of
education here, and that is, —that the voice which
most clearly elucidates a problem of Euclid in the
morning, shall also most accurately analyze a passage
of Milton in the afternoon, and perhaps charm you
with some sweet strain of music in the evening. Of
course this nice balance is only found in those who,
commencing early, persevere through a complete course
of study. But I am running on as I said I would not.
The most novel of the provisions which Mr. Tyler
has made, for the benefit of his pupils, is the splendid
GYMNASIUM — I believe the most costly and complete
thing of its kind, connected with any institution of
learning, in the country. It is a very large and finely
16




190                TAGHCONIC.
proportioned building, of two stories,- the lower divided into musical and painting rooms, and the like. The
upper forms a magnificent hall, eighty feet long by fifty
wide, with a graceful arch in the centre, supported by
two fine colonnades of Ionic pillars. From this arch
are suspended ropes, swings, and a variety of calisthenic apparatus, —which can easily be placed aside,
leaving the broad area open, for the enjoyment of the
freest hilarity.
On either side this open space, within the colonnades,
are two bowling alleys - four in all - which entice the
pupils to continual practice of that most genial and
healthful exercise. The value of systematic exercise
has been the constant theme of teachers for years.
The rewards which its practice would ensure, and the
sad punishment for its neglect, used to be painted to us
at school, in glowing colors, -whose truthfulness too
many of us can now painfully recognise.
I do not know that we then believed them false, but
the want of those facilities which Mr. Tyler has so
amply supplied, were a sore temptation to brave the
danger. Heretofore, the attempt to supply this deficiency has been wofully inefficient. Although it is
essential that the place of exercise should be well ventilated, and of attractive appearance, yet whenever a
room has been provided, it has generally been some
close, rough, cobwebed hall - an unsightly place, without beauty or fitness. It is to be hoped that the example of Mr. Tyler, in reforming this matter altogether,
will be appreciated and followed.
Leaving this hall, we ascended, by several flights of
stairs, to the cupola, where we were astonished at the




3MISS WELLS' SCHOOL-.           191
beautiful bird's-eye view of the valley which presented
itself. I think nothing of the kind in Pittsfield can
surpass it.
The "Institute" is not the only seminary of the
kind in our village. The pleasant family school of
Miss  W:ELLs, although without the costly and luxurious appliances of the Institute, is hardly, if at all,
inferior to it in successful teaching. I have never
listened to the public exhibition of scholarship at this
school, but its graduates are possessed of accomplishments which any institute might be proud to have bestowed. Nothing can be more pleasant than the c "Musical Soirees" at this school. The unaffected style
and splendid execution of MnR. CRossIaAN, and his
pupils, is beyond praise, in this age of rampant bravuras and crashing symphonies.




CHAPTER XIX.
LANESBORO'. -— ILLS AND VALLEYS.
NESTLED closest in the bosom of our hills lies the
little village of Lanesboro' - the very fondling of Nature. Thither turns never the good mother her wrinkled front; near pressing as the mountains clasp the
narrow valley, you must not look among them for
frowning precipices, or earthquake rifted chasms. High
into the air their summits press, but not in jagged
peaks -only with the full, round swelling of loving
breasts, upon which you may repose, if you will, in the
gentlest of Summer reveries.
There is one eminence -in patriotic gratitude they
call it Constitution Hill —with such a winsome, neighborly look to it, that in our streets, miles away, it seems
near as your own garden. If you have in you any
yearnings at all after beauty, I am sure you cannot
look upon, and not be irresistibly drawn to it, to be
lifted up gently and humanly, above the baser things of
earth. Lying under its druidical oaks, or seated, farther up, upon a pearl-white quartz rock, in the shade
of a whispering birch, you will see below you groves
and farms, and broad, fresh meadows, with laughing
lakes and winding rivulets, -like silver embroidery on
the green banner of Erin.




OVER VIEW.                193
Many fair villages, as well, will dot the scene, whose
names - if you do not know - I hope you will never
ask, but be content to remember, that under each roof
of them all, human lives are wearing themselves out.
Then let your own heart interpret for you what the
overlooking woods whisper. If you know well the
story of one hearth-stone, think what a thrilling tale it
is; and if, in your reveries upon the hill-tops you multiply that marvellous but common story into the thousand dwellings of the valley, the resultant mass shall
be greater than the mountains which encompass it.
I could point you to an antique mansion -a grey
spot it appears in the far distance, with no overhanging
cloud to distinguish it -at whose story I am deeply
moved, as often as I look upon it. The splendors and
the shadows, which have by turns darkened and illumined its chambers, pass and repass in spectral reiteration, over my spirit. Whether I will or not, come the
ghosts of fleeting joys, irradicable sorrows; the loftiness of human pride and lowliness of pride's abasement,
which have passed and left no record there; and yet that
grey old homestead is no accursed roof, devoted to misery from its foundation, but one even such as its fellows
are. Ah! if we could look within the seemly exterior
of any home,- if we could penetrate the heart's chambers of any man, what might not meet us there?
Those glowing windows which gleam so cheerily on
our evening path, by what funereal torches may they
not be lighted?  Those radiant faces which meet us
smilingly in our noonday walk, by what infernal passions may they not be driven on? So under the green
and smiling earth lie pent the hidden fires, and help
16*




194                TAGHCONIC.
the genial sun to quicken the blossom and ripen the
fruit.
This Constitution Hill must be a great promoter of
reverie. I have a friend - a bachelor friend - who,
no sooner is he seated upon it, than off he goes dreaming over the whole valley, in a very Marvel-ous way.
I do not believe there is a dwelling in sight, from
Greylock to Taghconic, that he has not, at sometime,
made himself pater familias in it. Bring him up
hither, and his respect for the Tenth Commandment
vanishes like the mist of the valley. Another friend
of mine —an artist —never looks down from hence,
but -presto! change! - the hard work of a century
all gone, and the red Indian come back again, with wild
wood and wigwam, council fire and hunting ground.
So you, if you come within the charmed circle of our
hills' shaven crown, may, perchance, work some wonderful phantasmagoric changes.
I do not know how it all comes about. Perhaps
some good genius has cast a spell upon the spot -a
mode of solving such difficulties to which I confess
myself prone, being naturally of a superstitious as well
as lymphatic turn of mind.
It may be only another fancy of mine, but the leaves
here seem to have a perfection of beauty not attained
elsewhere. Nature's work is finished with more care;
the curves are cut with a more accurate grace, and the
green more faithfully laid on. In the Fall, too, the
rich enamellings are done with greater depth of coloring, and without shrivelling up the work in the process,
as the careless elves are very apt to do in other groves.
The specimens of their workmanship which I have




THE STREAM.                  195
seen here, were perfect gems in their way. You shall
not desire to see a more gorgeous sight than Constitution Hill in October.
Just on the western declivity is a good sized cavern,
which, a witty lady thinks, may be the home of these
elfin workmen; but, in spite of the high authority, I
must doubt; such underground tenements are more fit
dwelling places for bears, wolves, and such like ugly
gnomes, than for any gentle spirits whatever.  No,
ours are
" Some gay creatures of the elements,
Who in the colors of the rainbow live
And play'i the plighted clouds."
Descending from the hill, you may wander up the
stream which flows at its base. If a follower of the
"(gentle craft of angling," you will not neglect to lie
awhile where some thick-leaved maple overshadows a
deep pool, where you may drop your line with the
reasonable hope of bringing to shore a dozen fine fish
- perhaps even the "Hermit Trout" himself, who is
believed to haunt these pools, and only dimple the
shallows in the pale moonlight;- a wary old fellow he,
"Too shrewd
To be by a wading boy pulled out!"
Indeed, this is a stream which would have charmed
old Izaak - the very counterpart of his own transparent
Ichen.  But I trust you are no patron of his treacherous sport. You were better to sit on some warm  bank
of green swardcl, or dangling your feet over some rustic
bridge, to watch the smoothly gliding current, and




196                TAGHICONIC.
"The shadows of sun-gilt ripples
On the pebbly bed of a brook. "
There is no wine, or oil of gladness, which has such
a balm for the wounded spirit as the soft murmurs of a
rural brooklet.
Wandering on, you may, if you are fortunate as I
have been, sometimes catch a glimpse into dream-land,
like a vignette to an old romance, of a youth seated
under a spreading elm, with a guitar in his hand and a
maiden by his side. When I was a citizen I used to
think such things confined to poetry and Spain; but
here, in the quiet days of Summer, things often occur
which convince one of the truth of Hood's remark,
that " it is dangerous to swear to the truth or falsehood
of a romance, even of one's own making."
On a gentle hillock, by whose side the stream flows
in deep willow shade, is the village grave-yard. Do
not fail to enter it. Among its thick, clustering mlonuments you can linger with best profit, undisturbed by
quaintly ludicrous epitaphs, or monstrous heraldries of
death. The touching inscriptions on the simple marbles
bespeak alike the chastened spirit and the cultivated
mind. What wild woe -paternal, filial, fraternal, and
conjugal —this narrow spot has witnessed, I shrink
from  recalling.  The marble bears record only of
the subdued grief and the christian hope; the story
of the early woe, when the one joy of life perished, - when " the young green bole was marked for
fellage," is not told to the stranger's eye, and is sacred
from the stranger's pen. Yet to that stranger is the
place deeply consecrated; how holy, then, to those




THE OLD WORSHIPPER.             197
whose best of earth is mingled with its dust. I am
here often reminded of a beautiful thought of Richter"The ancients had it that not even the ashes of the
dead should be embarked with the living, for fear of
the storm which would be sure to follow. We have
learned better, and know that, to be accompanied on
the voyage of life by the memory of the dead, brings
calm, and not storm; he who always feels one loss, will
be less accessible to new sorrow."
The 01b Mtrolbippar.
In this grave-yard I once witnessed a scene, so touching and solemn, and yet so far removed from any agony
of woe, that to speak of it can open anew no half
healed wound. It was one of those occasions when
the sorrows of earth are so gloriously transmuted into
the joys of Heaven, that we, who remain "of the
earth, earthy," look upon the transfiguration in far off
wonder; while Philosophy strives in vain to characterize emotions, in which the consoler, Christ, enables
the mourner to mingle - as in His own mysterious
nature- so much of human sorrow with so much of
Divine confidence.
Not far from the village grave-yard is the church, -
a modest gothic structure, built of the grey stone of
the county. This was once, for many months, my own
place of worship; and still, on a pleasant Sabbath
morning, I love to stroll to it. The bracing walk of
some half dozen miles, through a delightful country, is
no unworthy preparation for the devotions of the sanctuary; and, through the day, the voices of woods and




198               TAGHCONIC.
waters seem to mingle with the deep responses of the
congregation. Nature, with her thousand voices, joins
in the jubilant chorus, and in subdued tones echoes the
supplications of the solemn litany.
The first morning upon which I entered this church
I was struck with the venerable figure of an old man,
who sat in front of me, completely absorbed in worship.
Never had my ideal of Christian devotion been so completely filled; no painter could have desired a finer
model. His whole soul seemed informed and penetrated with the spirit of the liturgy, in whose eloquent
words he poured forth his soul to GOD.
His veteran form was tall and martial in its bearing;
in the deep lines of his countenance you could not mistake the characters of strong intellect, self respect, and
unbending firmness of purpose. You would say he
was one not likely to yield much obsequious homage to
his fellow man; but here, in the presence of Jehovah,
his whole bearing was conformed to the most lowly, yet
manly, humility. Nothing could be more impressive
than the earnest tones with which he joined in the services of the church.
Sabbath after Sabbath my eye sought and found him
— the most noticeable figure in the room - until one
Summer's day, when I entered, the people were waiting, in that hush of expectation which in a country
congregation tells one that a funeral is about to take
place. On my way to the church I had lingered a few
moments, as was my wont, in the grave-yard, - and
had found an open grave in the lot of the venerable
worshipper. I now looked to his pew; it was vacant;
and I at once guessed that it was he who was about to




THE FUNERAL.                199
enter the sacred portals for the last time. But it was
not so; a whisper from a neighbor informed me that it
was the wife of the old man who was no more - the
wife of his youth.
Presently, as the procession entered, I saw the widowed husband following close behind the coffin, his
head a little bent, as if to approach nearer the form of
the sleeper, and his voice a little more tremulous than
usual, as he joined in the Scripture appointed to be
then read.
The coffin was laid before the altar, and the old man
took his seat, with that forced calmness where the
quivering lip shows the struggle hardly yet over, and
the victory only half won.
As the sublime promises of future reunion were
read; as the sympathizing tones of consolation fell
from the lips of the preacher, I thought the few remaining clouds vanished from the aged face, and a perfect
serenity overspread it. When the sermon was ended,
with an aspect almost cheerful, he rose up, to follow to
her burial place all that remained on earth of her, with
whom, for more than fifty years, he had walked, in
sunshine and storm. What emotions were at work
within, none could read; - the fixed eye, the firm set
lip, revealed nothing, —the prying eye of curiosity,
the anxious gaze of friendship, returned alike, baffled.
And yet, with what overwhelming power must the busy
memory of that lonely old man have brought back the
thick crowding events of half a century, from the first
thrilling meeting to this last brief parting! It is such
moments which must disclose most vividly to the mind
of Eld what this life is which passeth like a dream.




200               TAGHCONIC.
Such might have been the retrospect of the mourner of
three score years and ten, as he took his few brief steps
from the temple to the tomb;- or, perchance his better spirit reached forward to a glorious meeting in that
home to which sorrow and parting can never come.
The coffin was lowered to its place; — the people
gathered around. The pastor began that beautiful service, in which the church commits earth to its kindred
earth, and proclaims the spirit returned to the GoD
who gave it. There, at the clergyman's side, stood the
tall and veteran form of the mourner, his thin grey
hairs streaming in the mountain wind, as he repeated,
firmly, the proper responses. For a while he looked
steadfastly down into the grave, — but as the pastor
read: - "And the corruptible bodies of those who sleep
in Him shall be changed and made like unto His own
glorious body," the depressed eyes were raised to
Heaven with an expression of most triumphant and
joyous hope. The struggle was over. The grave had
lost its sting; 6-  Death was swallowed up in victory."
It was a spectacle most touching and sublime.
Yet a few moments, and the grave was closed; the
people separated to their homes,- and the mourner,
likewise, departed to his, - but for not long. He was
soon missed from his accustomed seat in the sanctuary.
With the fall of the leaf, he went down into the grave,
- and the grass which in the Spring started upon his
wife's mound, waved over two.
There is another and older graveyard in the town,
white with its multitude of marble testimonials. Here
there used to be a tomb, carved with masonic symbols,




MADNESS.                 201
and having a heavy iron knocker on its door. Here,
often at midnight, - whether the still moon shed her
pale light on the ghastly tombstones, or the dark and
howling tempest was on, — a crazed woman used to
enter the grave encumbered ground, and strike such
a peal on the ringing iron that the sleepers in the
near dwellings started trembling from their slumbers.
There is something terribly significant to me in that
gloomy visitation of the tomb. What earnestness of
agonized longing for their repose, may have impelled
that wild nocturnal summons to the dead. "Wake!
wake! ye peaceful dwellers in the tomb," perhaps that
weary, brainsick woman said; "open your dark portals and give me rest beside ye; wake! - the living
turn from me, and do you also spurn me?- me, who
shudder not at any loathsomeness of yours?"
But cheerier thoughts for the cheerful light of Summer,- and, passing the mildewed realms of death, do
you hie away to some beautiful hill, - Platt's, Prospect, St. Luke's, or the "Noppet;" or to some fair
valley, —whither I may not stay to accompany you,
- and so, farewell!
17




CHAPTER XX.
GRANULAR QUARTZ. - SILICIOUS SAND BEDS.
NOT the least curious geological formation in America is that of the granular quartz beds, among the
Berkshire hills. Much fierce warfare has been waged,
among the irascible sons of science, as to how and
when they came where we now find them; whether
they form part of the regular strata, or are interlopers
in the family of old Hoosac. If I rightly understood
him, I once heard a dignified savan distinctly charge
them with being no better than changelings; and the
whole learned conclave agreed, that Nature must have
brought them forth in a gypsy sort of a way, not very
creditable to her.
I do not know that I could reconcile the differences
of the doctors - even if I understood them - but this
much a love of justice compels me to say, that, having
visited these rocks in their homes, from Vermont to
Connecticut, I have always found them  lying among
Nature's other children as peaceably as need be,although I must confess that their neighbors often bear
traces of fiery times and a good deal of turmoil, when
the quartz first came among them, perhaps with some
unseemly ardor and abruptness; but for immaculate
purity, the wide world cannot show their equal.




SAND AND GLASS.               203
Without metaphor, the beds of granular quartz scattered along the Hoosac Mountains, afford, in some of
their localities, the most precious and beautiful silicious
sand for the glass manufacturer, which the world has
ever known.
For thousands of years this has been considered one
of the most rare and valuable minerals. Tacitus tells
us that it was found on the banks of the river Belus,
near 3t. Carmel, and used by the Phoenicians, three
thousand years ago. Nitre, he adds, was found naturally combined with it; and, although the shore was
small, the supply was considered inexhaustible. At
the time of the advent of Our Saviour, vessels were
annually dispatched to this locality to bring the sand to
Rome, where extensive glass manufactories had been
established. Then, and long afterwards, Mt. Carmel
was supposed to be the only locality of glass-making
sand in the world. Excellent beds have since been
opened, in various parts of Europe; but in England,
until within a century, ground flints were used exclusively in the manufactories; whence the name, " Flint
Glass." Lynne sand was afterwards found to be nearly
pure silicious matter, and that was substituted. More
lately I understand a still better article has been discovered at Alum Bay, in the Isle of Wight.
A  curious item  in the statistics of English glass
makilng accounts for the exceeding ugliness of junk
bottles. It seems that the British excise laws forbid
the use of any better material in their manufacture
than the sand from the river bottom, lest the revenue
might be defrauded by the use of the glass for purposes
where one which pays a higher tax is now employed.




204                TAGHCONIC.
Great quantities of sand are taken, for this purpose,
from  the bed of the Thames, opposite Woolwich
from which comes the name of "Woolwich Glass."
Until within a few years, the American glass houses
have been supplied with silicious material from the
banks of the Delaware and Mississippi, and from  a
locality near Pittsburgh, Penn.  But about the year
1847, the sand beds of Berkshire attracted the attention of Mr. SAMUEL SMITH, of Boston, by whom their
product was introduced to the notice of nearly, if not
quite, all the manufacturers of New York and New
England, as well as to some of those in more distant
places. The glass houses of the northern States, except Pennsylvania, are now supplied almost exclusively
from these beds.
The existence of an excellent silicious sand in Berkshire, has been long known. Indeed, in 1814 glass
houses were established in Cheshire and Chester, in this
county. But the difficulty of transportation over the
hills was then very great, and, together with the influx
of foreign goods, consequent upon the return of Peace,
rendered these enterprises unprofitable, and both were
very shortly abandoned. From that time until the year
1848, the beds were neglected almost entirely —being
worked, I believe, only for the use of marble sawyers,
and for the glass works at Sand Lake, in New York.
In this latter year, a bed in the eastern part of the
town of Lanesboro' (known now as the "Old Berkshire Bed") was opened, to supply the markets. This
still remains the most valuable bed, and is, I think, the
only one now worked. I may as well attempt some
description of it, as it appeared on a recent visit.




THE SAND.                  205
At a distance of some six miles from  Pittsfield we
came to a bye road, leading circuitously across the fields
to the east. One of the windings of this cross road
brought us suddenly upon what —if it had not been
July, I should have taken for an immense snow drift.
It was a pile of silicious sand, containing something
like three thousand tons. It was white and fine as the
purest snow that is driven over our mountains. The
imagination can conceive of nothing more brilliantly
white than this mass, glittering in a July's sun. Strangers exhaust their rhetoric in their attempts at comparison. - The driven snow, salt, loaf sugar, the silver
fleece, the fleecy cloud, are all impressed into service.
One very young gentleman likened it to his lady's
bosom!
They tell a story of one Mr. R., of Lanesboro',
whose good lady had a box of this sand placed upon
the shelf, close by a similar box of salt; but the two
getting somehow transposed, Mr. R. gave the sand to
his horses, for salt, for some days, before he discovered
his mistake, - for the beasts made no mention of it,
although undoubtedly they had it on their tongues.
I can vouch for the truth of this story; but the proverbial honesty of gentlemen of that trade forbids me
to credit the slanderous report that the grocers use the
same article to give weight to their sugars.
The bank of sand which I described, lay a dazzling
mass in the sunshine.  Beyond it a pit some eighty
feet deep, and of large area, was dug into the mountain. The west side is open to the road, for drainage
and transportation. The other sides, or walls, as they
are technically called, are of solid granular quartz,
17*




206                TAGHCONIC.
softened in some parts to sand, by the action of water
and air, and here and there intersected by a vein of
fire clay. Several feet of superincumbent soil rest
upon it.
Across the top of the pit a wooden viaduct leads a
mountain brook to a series of wooden vats, with strainers of wire gauze at the lower end of each. These
are filled with sand,- passing in succession from one
to the other, - and the water is filtered through them,
carrying with it whatever impurities may be present.
When this purification is completed, the sand is
thrown out to dry in the sun; but a great deal of moisture remains, which cannot be thus evaporated, and
accordingly it is taken to the drying house, which
stands on the main road nearly at the point where the
bye road leaves it. Here it is placed in huge pans,
made of closely riveted boiler iron, under which a
brisk fire is kept up until no moisture remains. It is
then packed in barrels and sent to market.
Other beds of this mineral have been wrought, but
none are so well worthy of a visit as the one I have
described.




CHAPTER XXI.
MONUMENT MOUNTAIN. - ICY GLEN. - STOCKBRIDGE
BOWL. - THE MURDERED TRAVELLER'S GLEN.
So much has been written about the fair old town of
Stockbridge, that the tourist finds almost every rood
upon which he there treads, already storied ground.
Seldom does genius owe so much to its dwelling place,
and yet more rarely is the debt so richly paid. " What
is writ is writ," and it is hardly worth a common man's
while to celebrate anew scenes which have received
their fame at the hands of Bryant and Miss Sedgwick.
Yet it is some compensation that the dry details, the
skeleton topography of places so consecrated, are read
with interest. In such topographical style let us run
briefly over the regions about "Old " Stockbridge.
Our first visit was to Monument Mountain, which,
although within the limits of Great Barrington, is in
the immediate neighborhood of Stockbridge village.
No description of it can be more perfect than that
given by Bryant.
"There is a precipice,
Which seems a fragment of some mighty wall,
Built by the hand which fashioned the old world
To separate its nations, and thrown down
When the flood drowned them. To the north a path




208                    TAGHCONIC.
Conducts you up the narrow battlement.
Steep is the western side, shaggy and wild
With mossy trees and pinnacles of flint,
And many a hanging crag. But to the east,
Sheer to the vale go down the bare old cliffs,Huge pillars that in middle Heaven uprear
Their weather-beaten capitals, here dark
With the thick moss of centuries, and there
Of chalky whiteness, where the thunderbolt
Hath splintered them."
When I used, in school days, to steal the moments
due  to  dryer studies to read  in  the  old'National
Reader," of Monument Mountain and
" Its sad tradition of unhappy love
And sorrows borne and ended long ago,"
I little dreamed that I should ever stand at its base, in
the glorious light of a Berkshire morning, to compute
the marketable value of " the bare old cliffs."  Thank
Heaven they are, after all, not of a nature to tempt
the avarice of man!
The precipice rises five hundred feet, perpendicularly —or a little beetling at the top; it is slightly
curved  inwarl, and  gradually  decreases  in  height,
towards the south.  At the bottom  are heaped up a
great mass of angular fragments, which have from time
to time fallen from  it; and a detached pinnacle stands
at a little distance, which is called " The Pulpit Rock,"
but reminded me more of a ruined and isolated tower
of some old baronial castle.  Cliff and fragment, and
isolated crag, are formed of a compact granular quartz,
-the same substance which, farther north, when disintegrated by some natural process, forms the silicious
sand of commerce,




MONUMENT MOUNTAIN.                  209
The precipice extends north to about the middle of
the Mountain, where it disappears, and the geological
character of the rock is changed to that of mica slate.
At the juncture rises the path by which you reach the
summit; and here I found some pretty crystals of
black tourmaline. Climbing the ascent, which is just
difficult enough to give a zest to it, I bent my head
dizzily over the abyss.
" It is a fearful thing
To stand upon the beetling verge and see
Where storm and lightning, from that grey old wall
Have tumbled down vast blocks, and at the base
Dashed them in fragments; and to lay thine ear
Over the dizzy depth, and hear the sound
Of winds, that struggle with the woods below,
Come up like murmurs."
The pile of loose stones, which gave name to the
mountain, was destroyed in wantonness or idle curiosity, many years ago. I have been told, however,
that the pious contributions of visitors — who adopted
the Indian custom of casting a stone upon it, as they
passed — have quite restored it. I did not see it, for
my guide said there was no monument now, nor ever
had been. In fact, he had very little respect for the
romancings of "Kate Sedgwick and Cullen Bryant,"
as he somewhat familiarly styled these distinguished
personages. The story of the Indian maiden he considered to be a sheer sham - with no foundation in
fact; or even worse, with one so detestably unpoetic I
will not mar your pleasure in the scene by recording it.
From Monument Mountain we drove to ICY GLEN.
I had long impatiently anticipated a visit to this celebrated ravine, and fancied often to myself what sort of




210                TAGHCONIC.
a place it might be. I cannot say much for the accuracy of my preconceived notions. It is a deep and
narrow gorge, cumbered with enormous boulders and
fallen trees, slippery and mossy, piled up irregularly, so
as to leave great cavernous recesses beneath, and to
give passage to a brawling stream among them. There
are, in Berkshire, few or no places of a more romantic
wildness. When, after stumbling and tumbling, climbing and sliding, over and under these Devil's playthings
of rocks, one emerges just at sunset upon the mellow
rural scene without, he is prepared to welcome ecstatically the smiling landscape.
Within the glen there is sometimes a scene which
must be grandly picturesque,-when on a moonless
and, perhaps starless night, some hundred people in
fantastic costumes, with flaming torches and pealing
music, pass through the ravine, in such broken procession as over that crazy pathway they can. How the
red glare of the torch-light must flash from the rugged
surface of the rocks to the fair faces of the ladies,never so fair as in such fitful light.  How the mingling
music, and laughter, and shouts must reecho in a thousand Babel discordances, till the whole glen is mazed.
Thence by a charming road to the STOCKBRIDGr
BOWL, the most famous, -by many thought the most
beautiful of our mountain lakelets.  Celebrated by the
loving pens of Miss Sedgwick and iMrs. Sigourney, it
has associations which our more northern lakes cannot
boast. It is a graceful and gentle sheet of water, encircled by a fine rural country.
"The Stockbridge bowl! Hast ever seen
How sweetly pure and bright,




NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.                211
Its foot of stone, and rim of green
Attract the traveller's sight?High set among the breezy hills,
Where spotless marble glows,
It takes the tribute of the rills
Distilled from mountain snows."
SIGOURNEY.
To the other attractions of this lake, at the time of
our visit, was added, that upon its banks then lived
Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was no small thing to breathe
for a while the same air with that marvellous genius.
The mountain lake should record that brief acquaintance as its first honor.  By the bye, I am  told Mr.
IIawthorne honored the mountain and the lake with
far more of his attention than he bestowed upon his
neighbors.  I believe Herman Mellville and G. P. R.
James were among his friends; but for the most part
he is said to have lived in great seclusion. One is not
much surprised to learn that the creator of Hester
Prynne and little Pearl, Zenobia, and the Pynchons,
does not find his highest pleasure in the chit-chat of
fashionable or even of literary coteries. Nor should it
surprise us if a touch of melancholy, or even seeming
moroseness, tinges his manner.  The knowledge of the
soul's anatomist is that which "by suffering entereth."
The scene of Bryant's ballad of "The MBurdered
Traveller," is on the road between the villages of Old
and West Stockbridge. The following is the poet's
account' of it, in his note: " Some years since, in the
month of May, the remains of a human being, partly
devoured by wild beasts, were found in a woody ravine
near a solitary road between the mountains, west of
Stockbridge.  It was supposed that the person came to




212                  TAGHCONIC.
his death by violence, but no traces could be discovered
of his murderers. It was only recollected that one
evening in the previous Winter, a traveller had stopped
at an inn in West Stockbridge; that he had enquired
the way to Stockbridge, and that, in paying the landlord for something which he had ordered, it appeared
he had a considerable sum of money in his possession.
" Two ill-looking men were present, and went out
about the time the traveller proceeded on his journey.
During the Winter, also, two ill-dressed men, but plentifully supplied with money, had lingered awhile about
the village. Several years afterwards, a criminal, about
to be executed in Canada, for a capital offence, confessed that he had been concerned in murdering a traveller for his money, near Stockbridge.  Nothing was
ever known of the name or residence of the person
murdered."
Such is the foundation of Bryant's simple and touching ballad.
There are other beautiful and storied scenes about
this most beautiful town, but space begins to fail me,
and I must pass them. Green River, and the Sacrifice
Rock, are left until another day.
NOTE. I regret deeply that I am unable to give a chapter
here on Great Barrington — one of our most lovely towns —
once the residence of Bryant; and also upon Bash Bish -one
of our most picturesque localities. But a gentleman of Great
Barrington, who had promised to contribute such a chapter, was
compelled, by a pressure of business, to disappoint me, when it
was too late to remedy the matter.




CHAPTER  XXII.
WAHCONAH'S FALLS,  AND A TRADITION
ABOUT THIM.
A LITTLE way off the high road in Windsor - a
nice farming town some ten miles from us - are Walhconah's Falls, in one of the most lonely and neglected
spots in Berkshire. I had heard their praises eloquently spoken, by one who has an affinity for beauty,
which searches out its kindred in all hidden nooks, and
on a bracing Fall day I set out to visit them.
There are few drives through a more agreeable
region. The village of Dalton, (Dale-town,) through
which you pass, is a handsome town, with a fine old
meeting-house on its ample, lawn-like green. You are
enticed to linger, as well, by the dark, rushing river,
where you see the groaning locomotive toiling wearily
up the steep ascent above you. And there, too, the
quaint looking paper mills, by the river side, go far to
make up a pleasant and novel scene. It is said that as
bright glances are sometimes thrown from the windows
of these oddly shapen manufactories as from any balcony, lattice or verandah, whatever.
Leaving this pretty village, and its prettier belles, a
few miles behind us we came to the Falls - a romantic
miniature cataract -just far enough from the highway
18




214                TAGHC ONIC.
to be sheltered from the too careless eye. The eastern
branch of the Housatonic here pours through perpendicular cliffs of grey marble a considerable volume of
water, which in two or three sheets makes a descent of
seventy or eighty feet. The scene is not very wild,
but the dark precipitous cliffs form  a striking and
sombre vista, and the black and glassy surface of the
water affords a fine contrast with the silvery white of
the foam.
One may be sure of passing a pleasant hour at such
a spot. The swift, smooth gliding of water always
brings a pleasurable sensation, and there is rare music
in the dash of a waterfall free from  the discordant
clatter of machinery. I confess to a malicious joy in
looking upon the blackened ruins of an old mill which
used to stand here, but perished long ago in some fierce
combat with the insulted elements. Heaven send thee
no successor, thou grim and grinning skeleton!
It is in such places as this, that sensible people cut
up all manner of boyish antics. Never be over nice
about dignity, when in search of the better thing, enjoyment; leave gravity and etiquette at home, in your
wardrobe, with all other starched and flimsy articles of
apparel.  Get astride an island rock, that midway
divides the stream, where the torrent shall throw its
spray over you, and the current dash madly by, on
either side your slippery foothold. Shout! rival the
noisy stream  at its own game.  Notice now  how
superior is organic sound to any mere inarticulate noise.
Your voice, lost in the thunder of the cataract so that
you cannot hear your own words, comes out clear and
distinct to your friends up on the shore. So the voice




WAHCONAH.                 215
of true and prophetic genius, lost now in the mad roar
of the multitude, shall ring its message in the ear of
the listening future.
This cascade makes good its claim to be called
beautiful, by gaining constantly on your affection. You
come again, and again, to sit by its ebon pools, and let
your eye glide with the fall of its glassy sheet, and
sparkle with the glittering fragments into which it
breaks among the rocks. I like these minor cataracts
which do not oppress you with sublimity; where your
soul is not absorbed by any awful grandeur. They are
like those pleasant books where something is left for
the imagination of the reader. There is room for the
delights of an "if; " if it had been swollen to mighty
bulk and curved like a horse shoe, — if it had been
hung in air like the white ribbon of a bridal bonnet, -
if it had fallen from so far that it had lost its way, and
so on rainbow wings flown back to Heaven. Why, you
have a whole cabinet of possible picturesques in that
little germ.
There is a tradition about these Falls, which I received, years ago, from a young Indian of the civilized
Stockbridge tribe, who had come from his exile in the
Far West, to be educated at an Eastern college.
Wal Iron a.
At the close of the great Pequot War, in 1637, you
recollect that the remnant of that gallant nation were
driven out from Connecticut and dispersed over the
land- as they touchingly said, "like the Autumn leaves,
which the winds scatter and they return not, though the




216                TAGHCONIC.
tree grow green again." In this sad exodus the great
mass went to swell the tribes of the West; but a few
bands chose to wander up the Housatonic to the valleys, where game was plenty and hunters were few.
One of these small parties, under the lead of a young
brave, called Miahcomo, built their frail village in that
part of the valley now called Dalton. Here, for forty
years, they lived in peace, and, begetting sons and
daughters, increased in numbers far beyond the red
man's wont. The hill-side, where they buried their
dead; the glen, whose thick woods reflected the red
glare of their council fire, became dear to them as
home; but above all, the inaccessible mountains were
prized, as the hunted man only can prize the strength
of the hills.
Almost forty years had passed since the little tribe
fled from the flames of Fort Mystic, when the great
Sachem of the Wampanoags came to them. With
strong logic, and glowing eloquence, he painted the
rapid encroachments of the white man, and passionately besought them to join in that league which, in the
following year, well nigh swept the English colonists
from the soil of New England.
The young braves grasped their tomahawks as they
listened, and the sympathetic eye of woman kindled
with almost martial fire. But the rulers in savage, as
in civilized life, can sometimes be prudent men. The
chiefs crushed with cold words of sympathy the hopes
which had quickened in the smiles of the people.
Miahcomo - the same who led the tribe from the pursuit of the English- still ruled them; and the young
warriors whispered that the horrors of the last night of




WAHC ONAH.                217
Fort Mystic, had turned his blood to water at the
thought of the Long Knives —although bold as an
eagle towards aught else. In more cautious tones they
whispered, that if ever a spark of the old fire rekindled
in Miahcomo's breast, the wily and cowardly priest
Tashmu was always at hand to quench it. Thus the mission of Philip failed, and the tribe continued in peace.
In the early Summer, nearly two years after the visit
of Philip, Miahcomo and his warriors were summoned
to meet the Mohawks — to whom they had become
feudatories - beyond the Taghconics. Trusting to the
quiet of the valley, the village was left in charge of
the women, and a few decrepit old men. Among the
former was Wahconah, the old chiefs favorite daughter, a young lady of singular personal attractions, and
skilled in all the fine arts in vogue among her countrymen, —especially in that of angling. What with all
these accomplishments, and the high rank of her father,
it is little wonder that Wahconah was the idol of all
the young men of the village; and, although yet almost
a child in years, had — so the rumor ran — received
offers matrimonial from a certain mysterious Mohawk
dignitary. This latter worthy, the wigwam gossips
unanimously agreed, would carry off the prize, whenever he came in person to claim it,- for it was a thing
unheard of in Indian wooing, that a brave of fifty
scalps should sue in vain.
The young gallants of the Housatonic did not, for
all this, remit one whit of their attentions, so that,
while they were over the border with her father, the
hours hung heavily on the hands of Wahconah. It
was, perhaps, to while away their tediousness; perhaps
18*




218                TAGHCONIC.
to get a nice dish for her lodge, that the maiden,
one sunny afternoon in June, took her fishing lines and
wandered up the river to our cascade. Before the sun
went down her success had been abundant, and she
only waited for one more last prize, - a habit which I
notice is still invariable with successful people, be they
anglers, speculators, or what not.
But Wahconah did not, after all, seem to have fully
set her heart upon this final prize. On the contrary,
she lay luxuriously back upon the soft greensward,
playfully twining a few scarlet columbines in her dark
hair, and smoothing softly down the gay feathers of the
oriole and blue bird that decorated the edges of her
white deer skin robe, —a garment which, it must be
confessed, was rather excessive in its Bloomerism, considering the primitive nature of the wearer's pettiloons;
but that was the fashion of the day, and no fault of
Wahconah's.
The child-like maiden revelled in the very fullness
of delightful idless. With a gentle, undisturbing thrill,
she felt the richly colored clouds fill her with their delicious warmth; she dipped her little foot in the stream
and laughed aloud to feel the soft caresses of the current; she mocked the blackbird that sung upon the oak,
and the squirrel that chirped upon the hickory; she
threw flowers and leaves upon the wave, and smiled
maidenly when two chanced to meet and float together
down the stream —for that was a love omen. That
must have been a pleasant sight in the Summer twilight, almost two hundred years ago.
Pity if it had been lost! —as it was not, for all
the while a young warrior had been looking on, from




WAHCONAI.                 219
the shelter of a wood on the other side of the stream.
It was certainly indelicate in him to play so long the
spy upon a maiden's reveries, but one cannot find it in
his heart to blame too severely, when he considers the
temptation; and besides that, the offender was but a
mere savage, and had never had the advantage of the
counsels of Chesterfield, Abbot, or any'" Young IMan's
Friend" whatever. The promptings of Nature, however, did at last suggest to him the impropriety of his
course; or perhaps he grew impatient. At all events'
he hailed Wahconab, in the flowery language of lIndian
gallantry, " Qua Alangua!" that is to say, "Hail!
Bright Star!"
Wahconah, startled at the sudden appearance of a
strange warrior, in the absence of her tribesmen, sprang
to her feet; but preserving the calmness befitting Miacomo's daughter, replied, "Qua Sesah!" that is, "Hail!
Brother!"
" Nessacus," continued the stranger, introducing himself, " Nessacus is weary with flying before the Long
Knives, and his people faint by the way. Will the
Bright Star's people shut their lodges against their
brethren?"
"Miahcomo has gone toward the setting sun," replied the maiden, - who by this time had probably
come to the conclusion that Nessacus was a very handtome young man, and well behaved, - "but his lodges
are always open.  Let my brother's people follow,
and be welcome."
A signal from the young chief brought a weary,
travel-worn band to his side, and Wahconah led the
way to the village, while Nessacus related to her the




220                TAGHCONIC.
sad story of Philip's defeat and death. "They waste
us," he said, "as the pestilence which forerun them
wasted our fathers."
" The Maniton is angry with his red children," said
Wahconah; He makes the white man mighty, by the
strength of the long knife and the fire bird."'It is not that," responded her companion bitterly,
"but the traitor's tongue at our council fires, and the
traitor's arrow upon our war path."
Wahconah remembered what the people whispered
concerning Tashmu, and was silent. Thus they came
to the village, -but I am not writing a tale, and must
let pass the welcome, and the house keeping, as well,
until Miahcomo's return. Suffice it that, in those pleasant days of the Moon of Flowers, the young people did
just what you and I would have been likely to do, -
that is, fell violently in love; and, what was more, in
direct violation of Indian customs, told each other so,a breach of etiquette you will the more readily pardon,
if you know experimentally, (as I doubt not you do,)
how dementing is the glance of a bright eye, and the
bloom of a damask cheek, in the soft light of a June
evening, when your heart is as full of love as the air is
of fragrance.
Four suns had ripened the passion of our new
lovers, and a fifth was shining genially upon it, when a
messenger came in, announcing the near approach of
Miahcomo; and, as the custom was, all the people went
out to meet him. What visions of happiness our dreamers had built up, in their barbarous way, I cannot tell;
nor do I know whether Indian sires have such a fatal
way of laying siege to air castles as more civilized




WAHCONAH.                  221
fathers use; so you can guess, as well as I, whether any
tremblings troubled the hearts of our young friends,
akin to what young'Squire Mansfield and old Banker
Barker's daughter might experience, in corresponding
circumstances. But remember, one love is very much
like another.
Wahconah and the chief of her guests stood together,
as, just up the valley, the returning warriors came in
sight. Their leader is described as a fine old hero as
one should desire to see. His tall, sinewy frame was
scarcely bent by the snows of seventy Winters; every
wrinkle in his face was firm as if it were a new sinew
of added strength; his eye keen and piercing as that
of his youngest archer.
By the chief's side walked a different figure, meek
even to cringing, with an uncertain step, and weak,
restless, unquiet eye. It was the priest Tashmu,- one
of that strange cast often hated, sometimes despised,
but always feared by the aborigines. This Tashmu
was a constant attendant upon Miahcomo, and, it was
said, had acquired a strange and mysterious power over
the chief's mind.
Wahconah shrank from the presence of the wizard,
as the Summer flower shrinks from the north wind;
but his was not now the most unwelcome figure in the
approaching band.  With her father and the priest
came a burly warrior, not positively old, nor absolutely
ugly- only a little smoke dried or so, and marked by
certain transverse and obverse scars, which, although
doubtless very honorable, might have been dispensed
with as mere matters of ornament. He was evidently
a man of renown, and wore the scalps, that hung




222                TAGHCONIC.
dangling about him, as proudly as ever a civilized hero
his jewelled star or blushing ribbon.  Wahconah
guessed, but too shrewdly, that this was her Mohawk
lover, - although he was far too dignified a character
to conduct his wooing in the unceremonious manner of
his young rival. Perhaps it had been but awkward
work had he tried it.
When the parties met, a few words explained to the
chief why the strangers were his guests, and ensured
a ratification of his daughter's welcome.  Whatever
may have been his meditations upon learning the disasters of his race, they did not prevent his holding high
revel that night, upon the banks of the Housatonic.
Feasts were celebrated, and games held, in honor at
once of all his guests. I leave you to guess whose
eyes brightened as Nessacus carried off all the prizes
for daring feats and skillful, and whose darkened as the
brawny arms and square frame of the Mohawk, Yonnongab, excelled all, in their marvellous strength. There
was yet another eye, stealthily and intently watching
every glance and action, and divining the thoughts of
careless hearts, for Tashmu was already the enemy of
the young exile.
Nessacus was no laggard in love nor in business.
Early on the morning after the feast, he repaired to
the lodge of Miahcomo, and the two remained long in
conference. The visit was again and again repeated,
but still the nature of their business did not transpire;
only the name of Wahconah was mixed in the gossip
about it, and it was surmised that the suit of the Mohawk was, perhaps, getting in a bad way. The young
chief was certainly getting to be a favorite of the old.




WAHCONAH.                 223
But the power of the Mohawk, and the craft of the
priest, were at work; and they were dangerous enemies. It was the part of the latter to unearth the
game; to discover and bring the plans of Nessacus
into open day, where his ally could attack them. He
succeeded; two propositions soon came to be national
affairs, for the discussion of the council fire- the first
for the marriage of Wahconah with Nessacus, and the
second for the migration of the tribe to the West,
beyond the reach of the white man's encroachments.
To the first Miahcomo gave his support - but he clung
to the spot where he bad ruled so long and so prosperously.
On the other hand, Yonnongah demanded the maiden
for his fourth wife, on the strength of some ancient
promise of her father, and denounced the vengeance of
his nation if their tributaries should attempt to migrate
beyond their jurisdiction.  Yonnongah seemed bent
upon securing Wahconah, alternately employing threats
and those sweet promises, of which even an Indian
lover can be so profuse, - especially after having
already won three hearts. This was no matter of jest
with the sorely perplexed father and chief, for Yonnongah was a man of might in his nation, and would
have scant scruples of delicacy in fulfilling his threats.
All which Tashmu lost no occasion of urging upon the
chief, to the great detriment of our hero's cause.
Nessacus soon saw how matters were tending, and,
conscious of his inability to cope with the priest in his
own arts, took a bold, blunt man's way of settling the
matter, and challenged his rival to decide the disputes
by arms. Yonnongah, who, to do him justice, was a




224                TAGHCONIC.
brave man, closed at once with the proposal; but the
priest was not thus to be cheated of his chance of villany.  Signs and portents multiplied marvellously; not
a bird could fly, or a fish swim, or a cloud float, but
each was pregnant with a prohibition of the proposed
combat. The powers above and below combined to
forbid it. The thunder muttered the divine veto; the
winds breathed it; the stars winked it. If you could
believe Tashmu, never was such a commotion in
Heaven, and "elsewhere," as the coming duel had
raised. The trial by arms was abandoned.
It was but fair, since the gods had vetoed one mode
of solving the difficulty, that they should provide
another. So thought Tashmu, and exclaimed in the
council, " Let the Great Spirit speak."
"' Let us obey the will of the Great Spirit," responded
~Miahcomo reverently.
And Yonnongah said, " It is well."
It was then proclaimed that Tashmu would, by divination, enquire that night in the "Wizard's Glen " how
the will of the Manitou should be ascertained; and a
"bad spell" was denounced against all who went beyond the precincts of the village, while he was engaged
in his holy work. Many predicted ill to Nessacus, from
this committal of his fate to the hands of a known enemy, but none ventured to remonstrate against the
decree.
A few rods below the cataract at Wahconah's Falls
is a sharp rock, which divides the stream. At the time
of our tradition, the current flowed equally upon either
side of it, and it had often been used, like the flight of
birds, the aspect of clouds, and other simple objects in




WAH ONAH.                  225
nature, to ascertain the will of Heaven. Upon the
night of Tashmu's supposed divination in the "Wizzard's Glen," that respectable minister of religion might,
instead, have been seen here, assisted by the stronger
arms of his Mohawk friend, tugging away at certain
great rocks which lay near the shore, and which they
finally contrived to place in the water, so as to impede
the current upon one side.
At this same spot, by the river side, a day or two
afterwards, the tribe were assembled, and it was announced to them that Maanitou had delegated the Spirit
of the Stream to settle their difficulties. In other
words - a small canoe, curiously carved with mysterious hieroglyphics, was to be launched midway in the
river, and, as the current chanced to carry it on one
side or the other of the dividing rock, the questions in
dispute were to be decided. This was a mode of solving knotty points by no means uncommon, and which,
therefore, excited no surprise, except that the Priest's
chances for trickery seemed to be lessened. Simple
souls! who knew not that what appears the fairest field
often affords the best harvest to accomplished knaves!
An "era of good feeling" seemed now to dawn.
All parties hastened to adopt this as a " finality." Tashmu, in oily words, wished well to his brother Nessacus;
and Nessacus resigned himself, unreservedly, to the care
of his brother Tashmu. The Priest was as much puzzled as pleased, at this sudden access of confidence;
but it, at least, made his part easy to play.
A solemn feast was now held; and the magical bark,
freighted with so many hopes, was then poised in the
middle of the stream. Miahcomo was placed, in savage
19




226                TAGHCONIC.
state, at a conspicuous point, while Yonnongah and his
rival were assigned separate sides of the river.
"Let Manitou speak!" exclaimed the Priest; and
the sacred canoe, released from its moorings, floated
steadily down the stream - inclining now to the right
hand, now to the left. All eyes intently followed its
course, hardly doubting that, by some charm or other,
Tashmu would at last cause it to pass near Yonnongah.
You will guess that none counted more confidently on
such a result than that worthy himself. Still the bark
floated regardlessly on, until it touched the magic rock,
— hung poised there for a moment, then seemed to
incline toward the Mohawk; but, the inconstant current
striking it obliquely, it swung slowly round, as upon a
pivot, and passed down the stream, by the feet of Nes-'sacus.
"Wagh! the Great Spirit hath spoken, and it is
good!" exclaimed Miahcomo; and the people, whose
hearts the young chief had somehow gained, shouted
"Ho! It is good!"
The Priest and his accomplice gazed at each other
in silent astonishment, that Heaven could possibly decide against arguments of such weight as they had
used. The former, for a moment, began to suspect that
a great God might possibly, in reality, rule in the affairs
of men, - making him to bless whom he would have
cursed. But the idea was too mighty for him, and he
recurred, naturally, to a suspicion of treachery. I
need not say, however, that he had his own reasons
for not pressing an immediate investigation. I do not
know that it ever occurred to him that Nessacus might
have been a witness to his pious midnight labors,




WAHCONAH.                 227
and, improving upon the hint, rendered them abortive.
The assent of all parties was accordingly given to
the proposed marriage; and the time which intervened
between the trial and a "lucky day," was to be filled
up with feasting and revelry. The disappearance of
Tashmu from the scene added to the hilarity of the
occasion, and all was wild merriment.
But alarming intelligence interrupted their festivities.
The terrible Major Tallcott, with his soldiers, had pursued the brave Sachem of Quaboag across the mountains, and slain him, with more than two score of his
best warriors, at MIahaiwe, on the banks of the Housatonic, not thirty miles from the settlement of Miahcomo.
Even their temporary security was gone; the mountain
barrier was already passed.
The fugitives from  the battle at Mahaiwe came
thronging in, but at last brought intelligence that the
invaders had returned. A party of them brought, also,
the missing Tashmu, whom they accused of having
offered to lead the enemy to the refuge of Nessacus.
The evidence of his guilt was complete, and the fate of
the criminal was not delayed by any unnecessary judicial forms.
Only a want of provisions had prevented Major Tallcott from accepting the Wizard's kind offer, and he
might now return, at any moment, to profit by it. The
best haste was accordingly made in their migration,
and before the November winds blew, Nessacus had
led them to a home in the West, where they became a
great tribe, and flourished for many generations, before
they again heard the white man's rifle.




228                TAGHCONIC.
As for Wahconah, the story of her happiness comes
down to us, through Indian traditions, faint and far,
but sweet as the perfume which a western gale might
bring from a far-off prairie.
THIE END.