',1. 
 
 
 
 I . ' :!iL 
 
 ! I : 
 
 
 
 1: I' . 'r 
 
 I :. i 
 
 
 1 !«<i , 
 
 ' ft • 
 
 ^ J 
 
 I'r' 
 
 !!':!■''■ Ill;, ■ 
 
 ,1 ! 
 
 I 111 ,1' 
 
 ■II I ' ,'1 
 
 iih;i. 
 
 
 '■■. ;i:. 
 
 I 
 
 ill ■ ' ; ' 1 
 
 «' /' ii 
 
 ;'1 ill ''■ 111 1 
 
 li'lri'i l:'l!■■- 
 
 r.i I 
 
 hi: 
 
 w 
 
 .1 ■ )iv J'' 
 
 
 
 ji: 1'. 
 
 •.1 .; 
 
 111 
 
 'j^ti 
 
 % 
 
 ! • ' ' ?;;'i'..;!itl' I " iir 
 
 1; 
 
 N 
 
 fii'i,: 
 
 ll ,t • 
 
 r- ■ I'm' IJ 
 
 ' " I'' '■ jl," 
 
 
 V'Ml 
 
 ,1' !, 
 
 ^W.k 
 
 lil 's 
 
 
 »■, ll 
 
 I'lIiv' ■; i^' ^'" ': 
 
 ^J|..:.M 
 
 ll' ' . 
 
 
Class __x_:__ J-ii^^ 
 
 CopyiiglitN^.. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
( 
 
The Glory of Greylock 
 
 WRITTEN AS A SOUVENIR OF 
 AN EXCURSION 
 
 Made by Mr. Joseph W. Hollister and Mr. Clarence A. Crandell 
 of the Evening Eagle, Mr. Mothew J. Capless of the Spring- 
 field Republican, Mr. Carey S. Hayward, Mr. Joseph 
 H. Master son and Mr. Alfred C. Daniels of the 
 Evening Journal, Mr. William H. Newton and 
 Mr. Francis W. Rockwell. 
 
 BY 
 FRANCIS W. ROCKWELL 
 
 BOSTON, MASS. 
 1921 
 
Ft 2. 
 
 coptright 1921 
 By Francis W. Rockwell 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Thanhs are due to Mr. Charles T. Barker of Pittsfield, 
 
 for permission to use some of the photographs 
 
 from his large collection 
 
 SEAVER-HOWLAND PRESS, BOSTON 
 
 D£C-,r2l 
 
 ^C!.A630564 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Greylock from the residence of Mr. Arthur B. Daniels near the foot 
 
 of the Hoosacs. (Insert) Mr. Francis W. Rockwell .... Frontispiece 
 
 Three slides from Mt. Greylock, seen from the east. Greylock and 
 
 the Bellows-Pipe Facing page 2 
 
 Adams and the Hoosacs. Raven's Crag, North Adams, and the 
 
 Whitcomb Hills " "8 
 
 Northeast from Tower. Adams from Bellows-Pipe. The County 
 
 Commissioner's Road, below the cut in the rocks .... " "18 
 
 Summit Tower. The Cathedral Woods. In "The Heart of Grey- 
 lock." On North Adams Road " "26 
 
 The ocean of mist seen from the summit. The ocean of mist pour- 
 ing into the Bellows-Pipe, a thousand feet below. South from 
 Tower in early morning " "32 
 
 Greylock from the South, overlooking the city of Pittsfield. Adams 
 
 from the Smnmit. The Camping-ground " "40 
 
 Greylock from the east. On the North Adams Road. The Cottage 
 from the Tower, and the old barn on the right (1910). The 
 Taconics in the west " "48 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
Now men there be that love the plain 
 With yellow cornland dressed, 
 
 And others love the sleepy vales 
 Where lazy cattle rest; 
 
 But some men love the ancient hills, 
 And these have chosen best. 
 
 For in the hills a man may go 
 
 Forever as he list, 
 And see a net of distant worlds 
 
 Where streams and valleys twist 
 A league below, and seem to hold 
 
 The whole earth in his fist. 
 
 W. N. Hodgson 
 
 in the Spectator. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 It is sixteen and two-tenths miles from the Soldier's 
 Monument in Pittsfield to the tower on the summit 
 of Mt. Greylock. The way lies, northerly, along the 
 shore of Pontoosuc lake. In the morning the green- 
 clad domes of the Taconics, on the west, lend a charm 
 to the scene which is enhanced by their own reflection 
 in the mirror of the Lake. On the north is Constitu- 
 tion Hill, the grass land parting its forests, overlooking, 
 from the single oak on its summit, the lakes Pontoosuc 
 and Onota in a valley of uncommon beauty. In the 
 north-east rise the twin peaks of Greylock flooded with 
 sunshine. This lake is beautiful at all times, especially 
 when "its still waters lie dreaming in the dawn." 
 
 It is a delightful drive thence to Lanesborough and 
 still northerly, through the village street, for two 
 miles, turning to the right just beyond the stone school- 
 house, and soon to the left up the ridge where lies 
 *'The Rockwell Road to Greylock." 
 
 As we climb the height there are revealed increas- 
 ingly attractive views. On the east is the long range 
 of the Hoosacs, on the west, the Taconics. We are told 
 that long long ago, there was a range of mountains 
 between them extending the length of Berkshire; that 
 Greylock was in that range, but twice its present 
 height; that floods, glaciers, foldings, and erosion have 
 done their work; breaking through the chain, dwarf- 
 ing the mountain heights, cutting out the valleys. 
 It seems hardly possible that the statement is true 
 a-nd that a great semi-circular lake once surrounded 
 Greylock on the north, leaving the present sites of 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Williamstown, North Adams and Adams six hundred 
 feet more or less under water, but so the geologists 
 tell us, and we must believe the tale even if it grieves 
 us to yield up the phrase "the everlasting hills." 
 
 Whatever may have happened before the memory of 
 man, the fact remains that out of all the old commotions 
 and changes a fair world was left; and so it is impos- 
 sible, as we climb the ridge, to keep from looking back 
 over the present central and southern Berkshire, a 
 semi-circular valley guarded round about by moun- 
 tains. In the center view are woods, hills and fields. 
 The lakes, Pontoosuc and Onota, lie wide-spread in 
 placid beauty. At the foot of the roadway is the 
 little Savage Mountain in Lanesborough, its wood- 
 crowned summit increasing in charm as the road 
 ascends. The view embraces more than half the 
 Berkshire townships. 
 
 Far up the hills, in the north-east, is Savoy, famed 
 for its walks, drives and mountain scenery; then, as 
 the eye ranges southerly, Windsor, with its clustering 
 houses, where, but a few rods apart, are the sources of 
 the Westfield and Housatonic rivers; Peru, where the 
 old church roof divided the raiiifall between the Hous- 
 atonic and Connecticut River valleys; Washington, 
 where the railroad crosses over the Hoosac range; 
 Becket, where the people were early noted for longev- 
 ity and patriotism; Otis and its mountain lakes, and 
 Sandisfield with its varied formation; — a line of town- 
 ships along the crest of the mountain range. Nearby 
 in the valleys or on the hills on the west and south- 
 west. New Ashford, lying close in the valley west of 
 the Greylock range with two streams finding their 
 source nearby its southern border; the east branch of 
 
 [21 
 
Top. Three slides on Mt. Greylock, seen from the east. 
 Bottom. Greylock and the Bellows-Pipe. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 the Green River flowing northerly to Williamstown, 
 and thence to the Hudson, and the west branch of the 
 Housatonic flowing southerly, into Long Island Sound; 
 Hancock, its village just over the first range, walled 
 in on either side by mountains. Farther south is West 
 Stockbridge with Tom Ball lifting his head; Alford on 
 the eastern declivity of the Taconics; lovely Egre- 
 mont, and Mt. Washington where rises the dome of 
 the Taconics, now a State reservation, "Mt. Everett." 
 
 Just below us, to the south, is Lanesborough, its fertile 
 fields stretching to Pontoosuc Lake, a town rich in 
 scenic beauty with its Savage Mountain, Farnham Hill, 
 and Constitution Hill; and then the shire city 
 of Pittsfield, half hidden in the trees. South of 
 Pittsfield lies Lenox on the heights, and then Stock- 
 bridge, a jewel in a jeweled plain, where dwelt the 
 Indians who were ** the friends of our fathers ; " and 
 over beyond Monument Mountain, Great Baurington, 
 far famed for its stately old elms and picturesque land- 
 scapes. 
 
 Still farther south is ancient SheflSeld, of the wide- 
 spread elms and long lovely street, guarded on the 
 west by the Taconic range of mountains, and then the 
 hills of north-weste^rn Connecticut. To the east of 
 Pittsfield lies Dalton, in a beautiful valley where Zenas 
 Crane, in 1799, found springs of pure water and a site 
 for the first paper mill in Western Massachusetts. 
 To the east of Dalton lies Hinsdale, named in honor of 
 Rev. Theodore HijQsdale, the first settled pastor. 
 
 Lee, whence came the marble for the national Cap- 
 itol and Soldiers' Home; Tyringham, a town of unusual 
 scenic beauty, its village now in one of the most beau- 
 tiful of all the Berkshire valleys, and Monterey, with 
 
 f3l 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 its lakes and Chestnut Hill, lie in the valley which runs 
 down southerly from Pittsfield; while Richmond, to the 
 right of Yokun's Seat, justly proud of its Perry's Peak, 
 lies in the valley southwesterly from Pittsfield, the 
 heights of Lenox separating these two charming valleys; 
 New Marlborough with its rare hilltops. Lake Buel, 
 Balance Rock, and lovely stream, lies upon the south- 
 ern sky-line directly south of us, where the first settler 
 is said to haVe passed the severe winter alone, bringing 
 his supplies from Shefiield on snow shoes and against 
 whom the Indian hunters enforced their game law as 
 to the killing of deer with a gun. 
 
 The local history of all these Berkshire townships is 
 full of interest. All the Berkshire towns have sent 
 forth soldiers to our wars, men of genius to our cities. 
 Every township has been the birthplace or residence 
 of those who have made their mark at home or in dis- 
 tant fields of effort. Upon or within the shelter of 
 these hills have lived men and women worthy of the 
 beautiful natural environment, inventors, writers, pro- 
 fessional and business men, missionaries, teachers, 
 preachers, poets, philanthropists, soldiers and states- 
 men. 
 
 The roll is a long and an honorable one. We over- 
 look the valley where Holmes, Longfellow, Bryant, 
 Hawthorne, and Herman Melville loved to linger, and 
 wrote their tribute to the hills ; where Miss Catherine 
 Sedgwick penned the earliest American fiction; where, 
 each succeeding summer, people of literary fame were 
 wont to gather. 
 
 We overlook townships whence the early settlers 
 emigrated to the west, one local history in the State 
 of New York proclaiming Berkshire County as "the 
 
 [4] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 mother of empires," in recognition of the emigrations 
 and far-reaChing influence of her people. 
 
 A mile and a half up the ridge, a few rods to the 
 right of the roadway, south of the old stone wall fence, 
 is a view of the eastern valley with the village of Ches- 
 hire in a delightful setting. To the west one glances 
 down upon the curve on the lower roadway winding 
 over Pratt Hill in upper Lanesborough. The breaks in 
 the western chain of mountains give glimpses of the 
 Catskills. Two miles to the east are seen the horizon- 
 tal benches, or terraces, as they follow down the ridge 
 east of Kitchen Brook, forming a stairway where 
 giants might walk down to Cheshire. 
 
 We catch a glimpse of Saddle Ball, and soon, just 
 peeping over the roadway in front of us, seven miles 
 away, is Greylock with the tower on its summit. Far- 
 ther on is the cliff, bare in early spring and the late 
 autumn, but in June its steep face in great part cov- 
 ered with foliage, known as Round's Rock. 
 
 They tell us that in the far-off time it was shaped by 
 the glaciers. When first seen from the roadway it 
 would seem to bar our progress, but on the east the 
 little ravine road runs up through the wooded cliff. 
 At the c*rest of the road, on the left, a little guide 
 board points the foot path to its summit. A twenty 
 minutes' walk to the top and back repays the effort. 
 
 There are many fine views of central and south- 
 ern Berkshire from the mountains on the east, west 
 and south, but this view from the north is possibly the 
 most attractive of them all. Midway between the 
 eastern and western mountain ranges, this cliff, al- 
 though a thousand feet lower, yields a view of Southern 
 Berkshire superior to that from Greylock itself. "It 
 
 [5] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 is a spot to visit again and again chiefly toward sun- 
 set." To the north you may see the blue dome of Mt. 
 Anthony in Vermont ; to the east Monadnock, and 
 Wachusett, rising over the Hoosacs. To the south 
 you look upon the southern Berkshire valley. 
 
 '* Through tiiis superb upland valley flows, renowned 
 in song and story, 'the blue winding Housatonic,' 
 receiving in its myriad graceful meanders the silvery 
 tribute of unnumbered rills and streamlets." 
 
 To the west lies the Taconic range, and beyond, 
 through the breaks in the mountain wall, the Cat- 
 skills. The scenery here will show to the best advan- 
 tage "in a spring morning when the sun shines out 
 after rain," or at evening when the shadows lengthen 
 from the western foot hills, or when "the sun is about 
 to rise into a world already flushed with dawn," or 
 when the mist-wreaths are carried by the breeze along 
 the mountain sides. " The place is siblitary, far from 
 wind and smoke, cool and bright, a fit abode for gods." 
 
 Words cannot adequately describe the beauty of the 
 Berkshire valley when viewed from this point. No 
 painting or photograph can do it justice. Always inter- 
 esting, the charm of this landscape varies with the 
 changing seasons, with the atmospheric or cloud con- 
 ditions. When one adds to an appreciation of the 
 scenic beauty an intimate acquaintance with the local 
 history and the literary efforts which have made the 
 valley famous, then one indeed must travel far to find 
 the satisfying equal of this spot. 
 
 There are days when matchless charm lies outside 
 the towns. On such days seek out this cliff ! 
 
 A mile beyond Round's Rock, on the right of the 
 road, is the projecting southern face of the mountain 
 
 [61 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 sloping southerly from Saddle Ball. It is a quaint, 
 picturesque hillside, flanked by a fringe of trees, bear- 
 ing the old-time name of Jones' Nose. There is a view 
 of the mountain stretching to the east where the forest 
 is very attractive. This can best be seen from the 
 branching roadways a mile farther to the east. There 
 is a little rock, for a seat, far up the grassy slope, but 
 the climb from the roadway is steep and slippery. This 
 rock is just above the marker on the north line of 
 Cheshire. 
 
 From the roadway west of Jones' Nose there is a good 
 view of the narrow western valley, as it runs south 
 and north; and one may look over it from Connecticut 
 far up into Vermont. Through this valley our Berk- 
 shire Revolutionary fathers marched to Bennington. 
 On the western side of the valley, nestling amid the 
 foothills, is the little New Ashford church. 
 
 We are approaching the mountain from the south. 
 It is to be kept in mind that the northern approach, 
 in a different way, is equally attractive if not more so. 
 While southern Berkshire is far-famed for its picturesque 
 natural scenery, the wild, rugged, romantic beauty of 
 the broken country immediately surrounding Greylock 
 on the east, north and west, is unequalled. 
 
 In the exquisite valleys round about the mountain 
 are Adams with Greylock itself within its limits. North 
 Adams where is the site of old fort Massachusetts, 
 Williamstown the home of Williams College, all in 
 delightful settings; while Clarksburg, north of North 
 Adams, is a town of wondrous scenic charm, and from 
 its hills inspiring views of Greylock may be obtained. 
 
 There, too, may be seen "rocks with furrows chis- 
 eled into them by primitive icebergs;" Florida, with 
 
 [7] 
 
THE GLORY OF G R E Y L O C K 
 
 its mountain pierced by the Hoosac Tunnel — Florida, 
 looking from whose heights Washington Gladden, 
 whose footsteps have left their imprint on all these 
 hills, said "every artist, whether in words or colors, 
 ought to look upon this landscape." 
 
 The fathers loved these hills. We are not the first to 
 enjoy these mountain views. As far back as 1799 Ex- 
 President Timothy Dwight of Yale took President 
 Fitch, the first President of Williams, for his first trip 
 to Greylock. They ascended the mountain from the 
 north, over the Wilbur farm. The account of that 
 journey made on horseback from Williamstown, of the 
 mountain as it then appeared, with the description of 
 the scenery, still holds its place as the standard. It 
 may be read in Dwight's Travels in New England and 
 New York. 
 
 Professor Hitchcock, afterward President of Amherst 
 College, traversing the county as state geologist in 
 1841, gave descriptions ,of this region which chal- 
 lenge admiration. Mrs. Hitchcock was the delineator 
 of that great work, and a comparison of the illustra- 
 tions with the modern photograph discloses the march 
 of progress. Thoreau's brief visit to Greylock dis- 
 closed a Berkshire sunrise. One could not begin to 
 quote from those who during the nineteenth century 
 penned descriptions of those scenes. Have you ever 
 read the first chapter of the History of Pittsfield? 
 
 Ever since the pioneers parted the leaves and looked 
 out from the eastern mountain slopes upon the wooded 
 hills and vales of Berkshire our people have appreciated 
 their scenic heritage. 
 
 Looking upon villages nestling in the valleys or far 
 up the hillsides, one recalls the names of many old-time 
 
Top. Adams, and the Hoosacs. 
 Bottom. Raven's Crag, North Adams, and the Whitcomb Hills. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 inhabitants. Here dwelt men and women who delighted 
 in this hill scenery. The record book of the Berkshire 
 Jubilee (1844) is full of appreciation. Recall the words 
 of President Mark Hopkins of Williams, the chron- 
 icles of Miss Catherine M. Sedgwick, wherein, allud- 
 ing to the hills and valleys, she wrote "in beauty hath 
 the Lord made them;" Mrs. Sigourney's classic poem 
 "The Stockbridge Bowl," Fanny Kemble's delicately 
 descriptive lines, Oliver Wendell Holmes ' address and 
 cold water poem, the other addresses and poems, with 
 their many allusions to the loved Berkshire environ- 
 ment. 
 
 But to continue our drive. For about a mile the 
 nearly level way continues to Mitchell Brook. This 
 little stream falls over the steepest of cliffs between 
 the enclosing ridges to the New Ashford valley. It is 
 the most sequestered place imaginable. A few hundred 
 feet down west from the roadway one is completely 
 shut out from the world. Only the hardiest will at- 
 tempt to clamber down this way to the valley road, 
 ever so far below. 
 
 For five and one half miles we have climbed the 
 Rockwell Road and are at its northern ending within 
 the reservation proper. The way has revealed near-by 
 and distant views of great charm and beauty. The 
 drive down, however, will be even more attractive. 
 It is sometimes called "the sunset drive from Grey- 
 lock." By moonlight it is one of the most fascinating 
 of the Berkshire roads. 
 
 Have you ever come down this road at sunrise when 
 the southern Berkshire valley, with the encircling moun- 
 tains, welcomed the coming of the day.f* In storm, 
 sunlight, at twilight and in bright starlight, one is 
 
 \ 9 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 surprised at the transformation of the scene. For one 
 who delights in such matters and studies to grasp the 
 little details of picturesque natural scenery, this rough 
 road down the mountain ridge has its charm for every 
 hour in the day, — for every season of the year. 
 
 Crossing the little bridge over Mitchell Brook an old 
 wood road is pointed out on the left leading northerly 
 down the mountain side, whence by a curve to the right 
 through the woods, a way on foot from the south to 
 the Heart of Greylock may be found. 
 
 Perhaps you have visited the spot from the Camping 
 Ground above, or traced the seven little brooks thread- 
 ing their wild, steep way down to the heart of Grey- 
 lock and the Roaring Brook below. One cannot under- 
 stand the full beauty, the sequestered delight of the 
 reservation, until one has followed down these little 
 streams. 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL WOODS 
 
 Leaving the main road we follow the old temporary 
 road, soon to be closed, northerly until it crosses the 
 new road leading to Stony Ledge. Turning to the left 
 we pass through the slender, straight and stately 
 spruces known as the Cathedral Woods, and the full 
 beauty of the wild-wood is revealed. The carriages 
 stop for a moment, a hand being raised for silence. 
 
 " It was the carol of a bird. 
 
 It ceased, and then it came again. 
 The sweetest song ear ever heard." 
 
 THE CAMPING GROUND 
 
 For more than sixty years this has been a favorite 
 camp for the professors and good people of Williams- 
 
 fiol 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 town. It is an ideal spot lying southerly of a little 
 brook nearby the Hopper trail. A half mile to the 
 north the trail goes down for a mile or more into the 
 Hopper, wide and smooth and steep, 
 
 Over the foot- worn path the students of Williams 
 
 have clambered 
 Year after year in search of the rare delights 
 
 of the mountain. 
 
 The drive passes around a curve about four hundred 
 feet northerly of the camp, where happy friends pass 
 glorious days amid sylvan scenes of rare delight, all 
 meeting for the sunset and the twilight hour "while 
 daylight dwindles and the dusk falls fast." 
 
 Have you ever pitched your tent at the Camping 
 Ground ? If so, you have seen, through the poet's eyes. 
 
 The moon like a flower 
 In heaven's high bower. 
 
 As the night breeze stirred the leafy tree-tops you 
 have watched the quickly-moving shadows thrown 
 upon the ground beneath, interlaced with the swiftly 
 shifting splashes of moonlight, weird, uncanny if the 
 mood is on, or reminding one of the lightly lilting steps 
 of the shy fairies weaving in and out the quaint mazes 
 of their graceful woodland dances, and I am sure you 
 will appreciate the imaginative delicacy of Shelley's 
 delightful, rhythmic lines. 
 
 That orbed maiden, with white fire laden. 
 
 Whom mortals call the moon. 
 Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, 
 
 By the midnight breezes strewn; 
 
 fill 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, 
 
 Which only the angels hear, 
 May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof. 
 
 The stars peep behind her and peer. 
 
 Yes! you have camped here in the autumn weather 
 and heeding your call I have joined you on the ledge, 
 soon to be described, have heard you repeat Longfel- 
 low's descriptive verse. This was your call, "Come! 
 feast your eyes upon the clouds, their shadows resting 
 on the hills and the changing foliage of the trees cling- 
 ing to the steep, rugged, westerly side of Greylock ! " 
 and these were the lines 
 
 There is a beautiful spirit breathing now 
 
 Its mellow richness on the clustered trees 
 And, from a beaker full of richest dyes, 
 
 Pouring new glory on the autumn woods 
 And dipping in warm light the pillard clouds. 
 
 Standing on the ledge, breathing in the full free 
 spirit of the hills, you have flung defiance at the en- 
 vironments which hedge in our daily life, exclaiming 
 with the rare old poet, 
 
 I care not. Fortune, what you me deny; 
 
 You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace; 
 You cannot shut the windows of the sky. 
 
 Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; 
 You cannot bar my constant feet to trace 
 The woods. 
 
 THE ROAD TO STONY LEDGE 
 
 It is a short, charming drive westerly from the 
 Camping Ground over the little plain, a natural park, 
 to the opposite hill, where with a loop the road turning 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 to the north climbs through the wood and the southerly- 
 portion of the Hopper ravine is opened to view with 
 mountains rising on either side to wall it in. With 
 exclamations of wonder and delight we come, all too 
 quickly, upon the crest of Stony Ledge. Thou shalt 
 look 
 
 "down into the secret of the glens 
 
 And streams that with their bordering thickets strive 
 To hide their windings." 
 
 "Strong, well balanced men coming upon this height 
 for the first time as the scene burst upon their vision 
 have been known to act like boys, shouting and ges- 
 ticulating in a wild burst of ecstasy." 
 
 The ledge is the southwesterly of the heights en- 
 closing the Hopper. Mt. Prospect rises on the north, 
 a mile distant, just beyond the ravine through which 
 flows the brook eventually seeking the Hudson and 
 the sea. On each side of Mt. Prospect the eye takes in 
 the Vermont hills, beautiful in outline, rare pictures 
 framed in by nearby peaks. To the right of Prospect 
 is the Wilbur clearing, forming the northern boundary 
 of the Hopper, dipping in a gracefully curving line 
 easterly to Mt. Williams. Mt. Williams is the northern 
 peak as one traces them southward, then Mt. Fitch 
 with its royal wealth of fir-trees, then, highest of all, 
 towering two thousand feet above the ravine below, is 
 Greylock just opposite us on the east. Still farther 
 south are the two peaks of Saddle Ball, sloping to the 
 steep descent called Jones' Nose. 
 
 Greylock is the center of the chain. " One is lost in 
 admiration," Professor Bascom writes, " where one has 
 the whole side of Greylock clothed in forest, directly 
 
 fl3l 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 before him, held at so favorable an angle and at so 
 convenient a distance as to disclose perfectly its every 
 part." These hills rise far above the ledge on which 
 one stands, while between, the gorge goes down a thou- 
 sand feet to the vale below. To carry the eyes from 
 the bottom of the ravine to these heights is but a 
 glance, yet every foot as the eye moves presents a line 
 of beauty. The bank of trees and foliage, now dark, 
 now brighter green, extends from north to south for 
 six miles. Such another hedge of forest trees cannot 
 be seen at so close a range within the Commonwealth. 
 
 This scene delights the eye, rests the mind and will 
 ever draw one back to gaze upon its fascinating beauty. 
 What must this scene present in the "golden autumn" 
 with the "yellow woodland to a russet turning" ? 
 
 At intervals in the ravines on the steep inclines may 
 be traced the courses of the brooklets winding down 
 through the interlacing foliage to the Hopper brook 
 below. Who will describe the shadows of the clouds 
 resting upon these hills ? From the ledge the full 
 beauty of the gorge bursts upon the vision. Like the 
 gorge of the Alpheios in Arcadia the ravines are due 
 to millions of years of water action or erosion. The 
 hills are similarly well-wooded, as in the Grecian gorge, 
 but here the eye traces among the trees half hidden 
 brooks outlined in the deep inclines of the hills. 
 
 It takes but a slight stretch of the imagination to 
 picture, in place of the Hopper Brook the broader river 
 Alpheios in the Grecian gorge. One may gaze by the 
 hour upon the opposite heights and note, when the 
 light is right, the heart-shaped forest enclosed by the 
 curving outline of the brooks, the meeting of the steep 
 inclines, the long line of the Inner Hopper, the long 
 
 [14 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 steep reaches of the woodlands, the curving Hne of the 
 Wilbur Clearing from Prospect to Mt. Williams, the 
 stream 
 
 " which has hewn 
 His pathway through the hills," 
 
 the deep depressions enclosing a thousand acres, where 
 the erosions of ages have chiseled out the once solid 
 mountain range, forming great gorges, where Nature 
 "has striven to conceal with young forests all her 
 ancient scars." 
 
 Here we may look at Nature's work during the mil- 
 lenniums, and with the Chinese poet see where 
 
 " The story of a miUion years 
 
 In one brief morning hes unrolled." 
 
 Here every new glance is a new cause of delight. 
 Here every keen observer notes new beauty. There is 
 such a variety of colors and shades that the varying 
 lights of the live-long day reveal unexpected visions 
 of rare loveliness. 
 
 To appreciate these hills, time must be taken. They 
 must be visited day and night, in sunshine, when skies 
 are clouded and in the storm. One hasty, careless, 
 glance is not sufficient. At times the scene is beyond 
 description. Here one may witness "rolling shapes of 
 cloud moving in rhythmic change." One who has 
 been so fortunate as to be here at sunset when the sky 
 is filled with light-winged clouds will not forget the 
 changing beauty of the great forests, the colored spaces 
 of the sky "blended insensibly and yet always in per- 
 fect harmony" above the distant hills. These natural 
 pictures are beyond the power of the artist to place 
 
 fl5l 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 upon the canvas. Here nature yields revelations of 
 beauty appealing to the highest in man. 
 
 A passion for high mountains, it is said, "involves 
 a certain imagination and poetry in a man, a love of 
 fine things for their own sake, of achievement apart 
 from tangible rewards." You recall those three sen- 
 tences, written over fifty years ago in "European 
 Mosaic," "Beauty both in nature and art is felt by 
 the sense, but recognized and comprehended by the 
 understanding. Hence the varied attractions of a 
 noble landscape can be appreciated only by persons of 
 cultivation and refinement. To such they afford the 
 most innocent and delightful of all the enjoyments of 
 earth." 
 
 One whose soul is attuned to the reception of im- 
 pressions derived from natural scenery, will delight in 
 the views from this ledge. The climb up the rude, rustic 
 rounds of the rough ladder of the spruce tower well 
 repays the effort. The extended view takes in, on the 
 north-west, the nearby Williamstown valley, the home 
 of Williams College with its associations of culture and 
 refinement; on the north the Vermont hills, a view of 
 endless delight; on the south and southwest the hills 
 of southern Berkshire and New York, while on the 
 west is the entire Taconic range with far off mountains 
 in the background, the Catskills and the Adirondacks. 
 
 THE ROAD TO THE SUMMIT* 
 
 Retracing the way to "the high bridge" the drive is 
 continued up the mountain, halting only on the "Cut 
 Off " road for exquisite views of Williamstown, framed 
 
 * This was the first piece of roadway built after the reservation 
 was established. It was quite a diflBcult undertaking at the time. 
 
 [16 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 between the Hopper hills, and for a light lunch on 
 " the switch-back road." Beyond, the road, winding up 
 into mystery through the woodland, clinging to the 
 mountain side, climbs the last four-fifths of a mile in 
 a semi-circle around the easterly side of the Greylock 
 peak. Just before the curving cut through the solid 
 rock is reached, the view to the south overlooks " the 
 green and rolling forest tops" and valley to Monu- 
 ment Mountain in southern Berkshire. From North 
 Adams on the north, to far below Pittsfield in the south, 
 extends the eastern Berkshire valley, with Adams in the 
 east two thousand five hundred feet below the road- 
 way. 
 
 Who will picture in words the charm of that varied 
 view, the cloud effects upon the valley, the mountain, 
 and far up the sides of the great Hoosac range! 
 
 What a picture the valley presents at night, its whole 
 length dotted with bright points and great circles of 
 electric lights showing where the populations center! 
 From this distance as one looks down upon them it is 
 not so much the convenience and safety they afford the 
 traveller upon the highways that impresses one, as the 
 exceeding beauty of the great circles and long lines of 
 separated light points winding with the roadways. 
 They connect the neighborhoods ; they are so friendly 
 in the night. 
 
 Its location, of exceeding beauty, under the general legislative 
 act for a road over the mountain, was selected by the then board of 
 County Commissioners; Col. Frank S. Richardson of North 
 Adams, Mr. WilUam P. Wood of Pittsfield and Mr. William C. 
 Dalzell of Egremont, in whose lasting honor it has been called 
 "The County Commissioner's Road." 
 
 [17 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 UPON THE SUMMIT 
 
 We have left our homes, our piazzas (little enchanted 
 spots where we have the benefit of our neighbors* 
 delightfully kept enclosures with their greenswards, 
 shrubs and flowers) , and the elm-shaded streets with the 
 arches of green overhead. We have come from the 
 rooms of our daily work, the business streets hedged in 
 by buildings, the clangor and confusion of a city's 
 traffic. We have driven by our lake, through the quiet 
 neighboring village street, enjoying the vistas of the 
 picturesque valley, and the views in driving up the 
 mountain ridge north of Lanesborough. We have 
 caught glimpses of distant mountains, viewed the 
 southern Berkshire valley, stood upon Round's Rock 
 passed through the Cathedral Woods, seen the Camp- 
 ing Ground, looked down from the heights of Stony 
 Ledge into the ravines of the Hopper, driven thence 
 up the mountain side and now find ourselves upon the 
 summit tower, 3545 feet above the sea. 
 
 We overlook valleys and mountain ranges in a cir- 
 cumference with a radius of over a hundred miles. Here 
 are the wide spaces of the earth and sky contrasting 
 greatly with the little environs of our homes. In this 
 our day of freedom we enjoy abundant light, svv^eetness 
 and beauty. 
 
 The views from the tower are enjoyed, and yet we 
 are not satisfied. We are here but for a brief time. If 
 only we could lengthen our stay ! Here we could pass 
 the days, amid the delights of the woodland, threading 
 the forest paths to "the leafy retreats of the moun- 
 tain, " hearing the birds and their song. We could listen 
 to nature, our nurse, as she told her wonderful story. 
 
 [181 
 
Top. Northeast from Tower. 
 
 Middle- Adams from Bellows-Pipe. 
 
 Bottom. The County Commissioner's Road, below the cut in the rocks. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 We could watch the clouds in the morning like a view 
 of the ocean from the beach, and anon the clouds drift- 
 ing away would reveal the hills and the valleys and the 
 mist-wreaths creeping along the sides of the moun- 
 tains. 
 
 We could exclaim with delight as the breeze lifts the 
 curtain of cloud disclosing Mts. Holyoke and Tom 
 as they stand on guard at the river; Wachusett smil- 
 ing its greeting, Monadnock with the light on its 
 forehead, the White Hills in upper New Hampshire, 
 the Green Hills of Vermont in grand outline, the rock- 
 topped peak of Mt. Marcy, buttressed by masses of 
 beauty, the Catskills of legend and story, — making a 
 circuit well filled "with peak above peak and range 
 beyond range," stretching away in the distance. 
 
 When the days ' tramps were ended we would rest in 
 view of the sunset, when the after-glow faded, delight- 
 ing in the flood of the moonlight, charmed with the 
 softened visions of beauty, above us "the firmament 
 studded with bright constellations." With Emerson 
 we would enjoy the sunset clouds, the delicately emerg- 
 ing stars. Standing on the tower we would long to 
 tramp these hills in storm and sunshine; to follow 
 these trails in the recurring seasons ; to use snow shoes 
 or "ski" in winter; to see the winter sunrises and sunsets; 
 to watch the varying light reflected on the smooth 
 white surface of the snow, the flush of crimson and 
 the wondrous hues that lend a beauty to the far horizon 
 and near-by landscapes; gr to observe the trees after 
 the ice storms when, 
 
 "The earth to fairy land is changed 
 With glittering silver sheeted o'er." 
 
 [19 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 "A shower of gems is strewed around 
 The flowers of winter rich and rare; 
 Rubies and sapphires deck the ground, 
 The topaz, emerald all are there." 
 
 "The morning sun with cloudless ray, 
 
 His powerless splendor round us streams; 
 From crusted bough, and twinkling spray, 
 Fly back unloosed the rainbow beams." 
 
 How we would wish to breathe in the freshness of 
 spring, to revel in the delights of summer and the 
 glories of autumn! How we would long to enjoy the 
 mornings and evenings and the ever-changing scenes 
 of earth and sky! With what exhiliration would we 
 breast the storms and the winds blowing over the 
 mountain heights. You recall Burt's lines in Scribner's 
 Magazine. 
 
 God has lent the wind to you. 
 
 Swept the great sweet mind of you; 
 Keen and clean and splendid as the morn on peaks aglow. 
 
 Peace of sunny hidden hollows 
 Down whose slope the long light follows, 
 
 And the hush is musical with dripping mountain stream. 
 Things like these are part of you, 
 
 Soul and mind and heart of you; 
 Winds and storms and sunny days and sparkling dawn- wet brush. 
 
 Standing on the tower we could wish to be here 
 *' awaiting the waking of the dawn, whose breath blows 
 out the stars." 
 
 Oh could we be here when 
 
 " Over that wide sky 
 
 Dawn her strange glory flings!" 
 
 [20 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Could we be here when the mist surrounds the tower 
 like an ocean, when the mist-waves storm the moun- 
 tain crest, like the breakers on the beach ; driven by 
 the south wind they hurl themselves into "the Bellows 
 Pipe," a thousand feet below; the sun rises above the 
 wide ocean of the mist, while the morning breeze tears 
 aside the thick curtain, revealing the mountains, val- 
 leys and lakes ; or when, after the sudden, sharp, short 
 summer showers the sun pushes down through the mist 
 into the valley of "the Hopper," with the speed of a 
 sword-thrust, lighting up with its quick flashing the 
 divided mist cloud, revealing in contrast the green 
 earth far beneath; — could we witness these scenes we 
 should forever after hold in memory an appreciation of 
 the exquisite masterpieces which nature here repeatedly 
 hangs in her gallery of pictures. 
 
 Could we but see on a clear morning the sun rising 
 high over "the ocean of the sunrise," (the Atlantic), 
 gilding the mountain-tops with the splendor of the 
 morn, then we would exclaim with the poet 
 Thompson : — 
 
 Yonder comes the powerful king of day. 
 Rejoicing in the east, The lessening cloud, 
 
 The kindling azure, and the mountain's brow 
 lUum'd with fluid gold, his near approach 
 
 Betoken glad. 
 
 Could we note at evening the scenes the poets have so 
 felicitously described, "The rugged line of peaks sil- 
 houetted against the golden afterglow of the sunset, 
 the flush left by the sun's last lingering beams kissing 
 the pale skies, the fainter blush such as might tinge a 
 maiden's dreams, and after the fading of the clouds the 
 
 [211 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 crimson light when evening is falHng to sleep in the 
 west and twinkle like diamonds the stars in the skies." 
 
 " Oh the hush and the magic of moonlight, when the shadows 
 are soft to the feet," 
 
 Were it permitted us to enjoy all these entrancing 
 scenes, language would prove inadequate to express 
 our great delight, 
 
 " For nature here to us unfolds 
 The soul of beauty that she holds." 
 
 221 
 
TEN DAYS ON THE GREYLOCK 
 CAMPING GROUND 
 
" Amid the clamor of the street 
 The fancy often fills 
 With far-off thoughts, I hve again 
 Among the streams and hills," 
 
 " Where the woodpecker laughs at his own little joke. 
 
 And the squirrels are shy of your glance, 
 And the blue bells are spread like a carpet of smoke 
 Where the Fairies at nightfall may dance." 
 
TEN DAYS ON THE GREYLOCK 
 CAMPING GROUND 
 
 In 1907 we climbed "the Cheshire Harbor trail " and 
 passed the night in the little red house on the summit of 
 Greylock. 
 
 In the morning we walked down past " the camping 
 ground," crossed the fields up to "Stony Ledge/* 
 walked back through the camping ground and south- 
 erly over the old road to Mitchell Book, thence down 
 "the Rockwell Road," completed that year, to Mrs. 
 Arthur A. Webster's, on the Northup Road in Lanes- 
 borough — in all fifteen miles over trails, fields and 
 mountain roads. That was merely a walking trip. 
 
 Who could resist the appeal in 1909! "You remem- 
 ber how you told us of tramping all one day on the 
 mountain and quoted those lines to show how you 
 enjoyed it: — 
 
 *At early dawn I took my way 
 My heart with peals of gladness rang 
 Nor could I leave the woods all day, 
 Because the birds so sweetly sang.' 
 
 It is your duty. Father dear, to get better acquainted 
 with the mountain. It is only fourteen miles, by the 
 new roads, from Pittsfield to the camping ground. Two 
 years ago you said you would take us this year all the 
 way to Stony Ledge by a roadway. The roads are 
 built and we girls do so wish to go camping ! " 
 
 In the realm of excursions often the brightest mo- 
 ments are beforehand, when kindred minds foregather 
 to talk matters over. Then the mind revels in glori- 
 ous anticipations, and each tells the other of the charm- 
 
 [25 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 ing scenes to be witnessed and the grand good times in 
 store. The talk is vivacious and the impression of what 
 is to happen, the dehghts that await the travelers, grow 
 with the talk. They planned it all, and I, although 
 Hearing the Psalmists' limit of age, must needs join 
 them for a ten days' outing. 
 
 THE CAMPING GROUND, GREYLOCK MOUNTAIN 
 
 July 15, 1909 
 I sing of sunrise, sunset, night, 
 Of moon and stars, of mountain heights. 
 Of sweet surprises in the flight 
 Of happy hours, 'mid new delights. 
 I sing of cliffs, ravines, and little brooks. 
 Of far-off mountains make my theme. 
 Of mists and trees and quiet nooks. 
 Of songs of thrushes — these I deem 
 Make up a joyous realm of peace. 
 
 Mr. Newton kindly gave up the day to bring me with 
 the tents to this delightful spot. We drove, in an open 
 wagon, from Pittsfield, through the charming Lanes- 
 boro street. Everybody nodded to William, and, on 
 inquiry, I found he was related to nearly everyone along 
 the way. We enjoyed the scenery as we drove up the 
 hills, and William told of his fishing excursions on the 
 neighboring streams. From what he said I inferred 
 he was not as leisurely, in his way of fishing the moun- 
 tain streams, as the old Chinese poet Li T'ai Po, who 
 described his method thus, 
 
 "Like princely fisherman of yore 
 Beside a babbling brook, 
 I sit upon a mossy bank 
 And drop my baited hook." 
 [26] 
 
Upper Left. 
 Lower Left. 
 
 Summit Tower. 
 
 The Cathedral Woods. 
 
 Upper Right. 
 Lower Right. 
 
 In "The Heart of Greylock. 
 On North Adams Road. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Perhaps the Chinese method was not as catching as 
 WiUiam's, who always returns with a basket, full 
 laden. William is an expert angler, and active; his 
 stories are entertaining, and genuine. 
 
 We compared notes as to our camping experiences 
 ' and when we reached the camping ground undertook 
 to set up the tents. It had been several years since 
 we had camped out, but we complimented each other 
 on the knowledge of such matters our mutual speech 
 confessed. We had no difficulty with the little "A" 
 tent, but when we tried to set up "the wall tent" our 
 troubles began. We measured the ground, drove the 
 pegs and placing the top bar within the canvas, with 
 the poles duly dove-tailed, proceeded to raise that 
 tent. There proved to be a tangled mass of guy ropes; 
 the edifice persisted in falling down, so we rested. As 
 we ate our lunch William told me and I told William 
 how it might be done. 
 
 We made repeated efforts to set that tent up. It was 
 useless! I told William that Captain John Nicholson 
 had confided to me that his banner military company 
 could set up tents, pegs and all, in seven minutes. 
 We always did admire that company! In the summer 
 evenings we often watched their drill on the south 
 side of Park Square, but we wondered how they could 
 set up tents so quickly, and we knew that when 
 Captain Nicholson made a statement, it was emphatic 
 and correct. William's only military experience, to be 
 sure, had been as drum major of St. Joseph's Band, (and 
 " he was a dandy ") and mine, in carrying a wooden gun 
 in the infants' drill, in the Plunkett's garden, at the 
 outbreak of the Civil War. We were nonplussed until 
 we made the discovery that we had been trying to set 
 
 [271 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 that wall tent up inside out. When we placed the top 
 bar on the real inside of the tent it unfolded majesti- 
 cally and the guy ropes held it in place. It is strange 
 how one forgets the simplest things as the years go by. 
 
 Now that the tents were set up I thanked William 
 and he drove back to Pittsfield. 
 
 Reconnoitering the surroundings of the camp, ex- 
 amining the little brooks on either side, the groves of 
 spruce, the open park to the north, exploring the near- 
 by paths and trails, to "the vista" in the high tree-top, 
 to Sunset Rock, the Hopper Trail and the new road to 
 Stony Ledge, collecting fire wood for the night, watch- 
 ing the glow of sunset through the trees, kept me inter- 
 ested for a time. Imperceptibly the shadows lengthened 
 and faded. Just before the stars came out, I heard 
 "the sweet flute-note that the wood thrush knows, 
 serene, liquid, transparent." All was peacefu,! as the 
 hush of evening fell upon the woods. 
 
 Retiring at nine, I passed the night in the larger tent, 
 sleeping soundly on spruce boughs, wrapped in my 
 blanket, until far in the night. When I awoke the north- 
 erly side of the tent, next the spruces, was dark, the 
 southerly side next the open camp-ground, was suf- 
 fused with a barely perceptible mellow light. I watched 
 for an hour the delicate transparency, expecting every 
 moment to see the fairies dancing in the tent. 
 
 Friday, the 16!h: — 
 
 Light was breaking at half past three. Unfastening 
 the door of the tent, I looked out upon the coming of 
 the day. 
 
 " Now has the whispering breath of gentle morn 
 Bid Nature's voice and Nature's beauty rise; 
 [281 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 While orient Phoebus, with unborrow'd hues, 
 
 Clothes the waked loveliness which all night slept 
 
 In heavenly drapery! Darkness is fled. 
 
 Now flowers unfold their beauties to the sun. 
 
 And, blushing, kiss the beams he sends to wake them." 
 
 Those peaceful, delicious early morning hours, alas 
 so many of us miss them. Washing my face at the 
 brook I ate the lunch reserved from yesterday and was 
 ready for the morning's work. There were the flat 
 stones, left by the last year's campers, where the great 
 fire had been. These I arranged in a circle to go around 
 the camp fire, and then I played and worked like a boy 
 rebuilding the little dam at the brook. It was indeed 
 great fun and took me back full sixty years to the time 
 we Pittsfield boys built the dam on "little brook" near 
 Curtis' Woods. That little brook 
 
 " Oft to its warbling waters drew 
 Our little feet when life was new." 
 
 You may not find it now, for the beautiful wood, the 
 brook, the bushes where the hazel nuts grew, long since 
 have disappeared with the march of the encroaching 
 city. Once in a while I meet a boy who recalls those 
 engineering days when all the world was young. We 
 would hardly know the reflection of our faces in the 
 water now, but then the stream kissed our rosy cheeks, 
 and after the dam was built, we bathed in the water 
 in the happy consciousness of deeds well done. Shall 
 we ever be boys again! At length the little dam was 
 finished. The water ran over it. It would be far easier 
 now to get water for the camp. 
 
 I rested from my labors, on the grass in the open 
 space north of the camping ground, 
 
 [29 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 "Adown full safetley I gan to sink 
 And leaning on my elbow and my side," 
 
 shading the eyes with the hand, watched the clouds, 
 the fields, and woods. 
 
 "Touched with the lavish miracles of earth, 
 I felt the brave persistence of the grass; 
 The far desire of rivulets; the keen 
 Unconquerable fervor of the thrush; 
 The lichens strength; 
 The constancy of flowers; 
 The eternal struggles and eternal deaths, 
 And yet the groping faith of every root ! 
 And thrilling with a new sweet restlessness 
 The thing that was my boyhood woke in me." 
 
 " When all was quiet, the wild things of the wood one 
 by one would cautiously bestir themselves. I would 
 become aware of faint, mysterious movements in the 
 leaves. Unseen wings would rustle exquisitely close to 
 my ear; or a twig would quiver as some tiny bird 
 alighted for an instant." 
 
 " The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, 
 Their thoughts I cannot measure, — 
 But the least motion which they made 
 It seemed a thrill of pleasure." 
 
 I looked down the slope where the tops of the tall 
 grasses and ferns were swaying, until I imagined them 
 little fairy folk nodding their heads "as they reeled^ 
 tossed and danced in the gentle breeze." They looked 
 so gay, those little people, in their fairy head-gear. 
 " Their bendings and flutterings were very graceful and 
 attractive " as they exchanged their gentle courtesies, 
 
 [301 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 their affectionate glances and little confidences. One 
 could almost hear them whispering and talking. 
 
 How one wished one knew their happy language. 
 How the mind goes back to our childhood days when 
 we knew the fairies really existed, when we drank in 
 so eagerly the beliefs of the long ago. You may call it, 
 if you will, a realm of pure fancy, this realm of the 
 little people. " Congenial to them are the most deli- 
 cate things in nature, flowers, dewdrops, butterflies 
 and nightingales." They still people the solitudes, are 
 the "comforters and lovers of mortals. They are 
 busy folk with a bustling world of their own." They 
 are still our fairies whom we so delighted in during our 
 childhood. They truly belong to the "dainty, graceful 
 world of the marvellous." We delight to be with them, 
 to dream with them, when we are in the forest. There 
 is a charm, a witchery about them that carries us "out 
 of the world back to the twilight land of our childhood." 
 
 These recollections of our childhood bring to mind 
 the first stanza of the Ode of Wordsworth 
 
 " There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
 
 The earth, and every common sight 
 To me did seem 
 
 Apparell'ed in celestial light, 
 The glory and the freshness of a dream," 
 
 And we love to read the closing lines, where yet 
 
 " To me the meanest flower that blows can give 
 Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears." 
 
 Soon two men came from the summit of Greylock, 
 built a small bridge at the camp entrance and cleared 
 up the grounds. The girls came at mid-day; Irene, 
 
 [311 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Grace and Esther. They had tales to tell of the three 
 deer they had seen, of how Samuel Bridges' splendid 
 horses, the black and the grey, had all they could do to 
 pull the heavily laden "democrat wagon'* up the hills. 
 
 After Ben, who had brought them from Pittsfield, 
 had left them at the foot of the Rockwell Road, six 
 and a half miles from camp, they had walked up the 
 hills, and when the pelting storm struck them, they had 
 sought shelter under "the big wagon." Their appear- 
 ance confirmed their story. You should have seen 
 them! Cheeks rosy with the exercise of walking, eyes 
 fairly sparkling with delight, hair falling down their 
 backs, long stockings and shoes wet through, wet as 
 mermaids ! 
 
 With a cheer they invaded the camp, and took pos- 
 session ; sought their tent, changed their apparel and 
 superintended the unpacking of the wagon. They 
 worked with great enthusiasm, swung a line from tree 
 to tree and hung out coats and blankets which the 
 storm had dampened. You should have seen the goods 
 they brought; boxes, cots, blankets, crockery, provi- 
 sions, slickers and hats. Their luggage filled both 
 tents. They never rested until everything was prop- 
 erly arranged. Then they prepared and served an 
 excellent lunch. 
 
 There was a faint halloo in the distance, then again 
 the call was louder. Who could it be calling from the 
 road above the camping ground ? I ran up the brook, 
 and there, on the opposite bank amid the spruces, 
 was my fellow commissioner Mr. Sperry, who, driving 
 down from the " Ledge," had sought me to tell of the 
 reservation work which always lies near his heart. 
 We talked a few minutes, and he then rejoined his 
 
 [32] 
 
Top. The ocean of mist seen from the summit. 
 
 Middle. The ocean of mist pouring down into the Bellows-Pipe, a thousand feet below. 
 
 Bottom. South from Tower in early morning. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 friends in the carriage. I wished he could have tarried 
 longer. 
 
 At six o'clock we all went up to Stony Ledge. The 
 girls started out with slickers on, which they soon dis- 
 carded, blossoming out in the neatest of bloomers. It 
 was quite a transformation! There were, however, 
 more serious things in store. It was here, amid these 
 peaceful, lovely scenes, that the revered Professor Albert 
 Hopkins and his friends were wont to delight their 
 souls and find refreshment. "The anciently reported 
 spell of the place crept upon us as we ventured into the 
 region of sunset." Here we tarried long " and in silence, 
 watching the rose creep into gold, the purple into the 
 rose." 
 
 During the night a deer came down the path behind 
 the girls' tent, stopped suddenly, and rushed away in 
 the forest. 
 
 Saturday, the 17th: — 
 
 " Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
 Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops." 
 
 After breakfast, taking our lunch, we walked to the 
 summit, three miles, thence down the North Adams 
 road, one third of a mile, to the trail leading to the 
 Inner Hopper. We ventured down that rugged trail, 
 sat upon the great rock, and gazed over that quiet 
 valley to the hills of sunlight far beyond. It was a 
 place for peaceful dreams, 
 
 " And though my money-minded neighbor deems 
 Of little worth the things that I have done, 
 Far dearer to the dreamer are his dreams 
 
 Than all the wealth by worldly wisdom won." 
 
 [33] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Clambering back to the road, we continued down to 
 "the Wilbur Clearing" (three miles north of the sum- 
 mit), where the girls feasted on the wild strawberries. 
 I crossed the clearing (known as Wilbur Park) 800 feet, 
 to the point where the trail leads to Mt. Simonds, the 
 highest part of the Mt. Prospect range. It was late, 
 and we retraced our steps to the summit of Mt. Grey- 
 lock. 
 
 We noted that the line of stakes, set for a road 
 around the westerly side of Greylock peak, reached the 
 North Adams road about 900 feet south of the iron kettle. 
 This proposed road will have a grade of about 23/^ per 
 cent and will be the most level of any of the mountain 
 roads. To avoid the steep grades on the 900 feet it 
 may be necessary to build a loop.* 
 
 The girls came down from the summit to the camp 
 by the abandoned temporary road and trails, stopping 
 at " the Mossy Spring," although they lost their way 
 at one point. I came around by the easier, longer road- 
 way over " the high bridge," at leisure of course, enjoy- 
 ing the sunset through the trees. My late arrival 
 caused some anxiety, but a rare evening meal was 
 ready. 
 
 Sunday, the 18th : — 
 
 Hawthorne and Thoreau knew how to become inti- 
 mate with scenes of nature; — they walked. Better to 
 drive than not to go at all, but those whose observa- 
 tions are worth recording, usually have gone the slower 
 way. They thus have time and opportunity to note 
 the details. They go, too, where no roads lead. When 
 in doubt on Greylock, take a trail. 
 
 * That piece of road was built in 1912. 
 
 [341 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Of all quiet places to pass the Sabbath, the Camping 
 Ground is beyond comparison the most restful! It is 
 the stillest place — that is, when the girls are not shout- 
 ing gleefully, happy in the thought of freedom from 
 the restraint of their good mothers. 
 
 All breakfasted late, — effect of Sunday habit of 
 course. Bauer and his man came and took Esther and 
 me down into "the Heart of Greylock," where the 
 "Roaring Brook" is fed by the seven little streamlets 
 from above. It is a wild, romantic spot; rocks and 
 cliffs, little cascades and cool streams trickling over 
 steep places. 
 
 If you wish exercise, try that wild, steep trail. " Such 
 toil gives to those paths a zest sublime." Follow down 
 the brook from the camping ground and you cannot 
 miss the way. At times the scene is quite fairy-like, 
 when we see the great trees, the rocks, 
 
 "And streams that fall, half dew, half air, 
 Through silver mists the old hills wear." 
 
 After heavy showers, when the little brooks are full, 
 the wildness of the place is very attractive. One climbs 
 down the steep trail holding on to the large trees past 
 great overhanging rocks. From a height of 75 feet 
 above, the united streams flow down to a small pool 
 hollowed out in the rocky basin of the brook. The 
 steep inclines rise on either side. Above and around 
 are bushes and trees. " Not a sunbeam can enter and 
 a kind of mysterious twilight pervades the spot. In 
 Greece it would have been chosen for an oracle." 
 
 A cup of bouillon greeted our return to camp, which 
 the gentle Irene served us. It equalled the nectar 
 Hebe prepared for the Olympian Gods. We dined at 
 
 [351 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 "the Brookside Inn." On the south side of the 
 little brook amid the spruces, just north of the camping 
 ground, but a trifle lower, a canopy was placed 
 over high wooden posts. The ground beneath was 
 as hard and smooth as a floor. Under the canopy a 
 long board table was built. Two planks, on short 
 posts at the sides, served as seats. Here we took 
 our meals. It was a lovely spot, and we called it 
 "the Brookside Inn." 
 
 Short, sharp showers came at intervals and we 
 sought shelter. Judging from the peals of laughter 
 coming from the girls' tent they were enjoying their 
 Sunday observances. There being no church nearby, I 
 sought the Cathedral Woods, the very name suggest- 
 ing a sanctuary, and, in due time, returned with fire- 
 wood for the night. 
 
 Soon after, Francis and Ben appeared. They had 
 tramped to the summit by the Cheshire Harbor trail, 
 where, enquiring the way to camp, they came to find 
 us; and, not knowing they were so near, had sought 
 shelter from the showers in the nearby deserted huts 
 of the men from Southern Italy, the road builders on 
 our mountain. There I found them. They brought 
 the news from the outer world, remained an hour, had 
 coffee and sandwiches, and left for Cheshire at five 
 o'clock. They did not seem to mind the fifteen mile 
 walk through mist and rain. They had come to see if 
 anything was needed for our comfort. 
 
 The dining room floor of "the Brookside Inn" was 
 swept in anticipation of to-morrow's guests. The rain 
 ceased at evening and the girls took lessons in sawing 
 wood. They sawed up into four-feet lengths the tall 
 old tree Francis had cut down. We started a brisk fire 
 
 [36 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 from smaller pieces within the square of logs, and when 
 the coals were red, made delicious slices of toast from 
 the loaf Ben had brought us. It was a feast fit for a king ! 
 When the night came on we piled the fire high with 
 dry spruce tops, and as the light breeze fanned the 
 flames into dazzling brightness, firelight photographs 
 were taken. The camp-fire spluttered and sparkled 
 far into the night, but the square of logs was intact 
 in the morning. 
 
 Monday, Hie 19th : — 
 
 "There is ever a song somewhere, my dear." *'It is 
 dawn. Faint light has come. The trees are phan- 
 toms." The Hopper and the Bacon Park, just north 
 of the Camping Grounds, are filled with mist. You 
 recall John Muir's description, "a bluish-gray mist 
 which creeps slowly over the heights, and on its way 
 leaves fragments of itself clinging to the outskirts of 
 the forest." 
 
 Could it be too late in the season? No! Sometimes 
 even into midsummer the birds will sing. A full chorus 
 of song at this season would be exceptional yet we 
 were hoping it might be heard. The heat and blaze 
 of our midsummer sun, it is said, silence most of our 
 birds, but not necessarily on Greylock. "A single 
 bird note fell upon our ears, that first call of a bird, 
 startled at discovering day." " At first the birds seemed 
 singing singly on the edges of the groves. Soon from 
 every bush and tree the united song burst forth," the 
 full, sweet concert of the birds. Trills and warblings 
 intermingled in a glory of rich melody. Who can de- 
 scribe that full hour! 
 
 Listen the choir is singing; all the birds are singing!" 
 
 [37 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 After the birds had ceased their morning chorus 
 there could still be heard in the distance occasional solo 
 singers sending messages of good cheer. 
 
 Have you chanced to hear the Hermit thrush? 
 " He sings . . . 
 Like a spirit whose nesting is peace." 
 
 I was refreshed by a morning bath at the little brook, 
 and later, under Grace's guidance, Irene and Esther 
 went down. Judging from the happy sounds which 
 floated up through the woods, there was a merry, 
 splashing time. Other campers here have improvised 
 a shower bath. 
 
 No guests as yet. They will come in clearer weather. 
 The girls sawed up another large old tree for the camp- 
 fire, and Irene carried off the honors. It is a useful and 
 glorious exercise, and one may be forgiven for encourag- 
 ing young people by insisting that the exercise brings 
 roses to the cheeks ; adding strength to beauty, espe- 
 cially if one escapes sawing the wood one's self. I 
 knew that Irene, as a child, could skip down our street 
 as if she were set on electric wires ; I knew that as she 
 grew older her twinkling little feet could fairly fly in 
 the graceful dance, but I had not realized before that 
 she could so skillfully saw up firewood for the camp — 
 but you never can tell what the modern young woman 
 can accomplish when she really sets out. 
 
 THE CLIMB TO STONY LEDGE 
 Have you ever chanced to hear one singing the sweet 
 song, " Boats sail on the rivers, 
 
 And ships sail on the seas; 
 But clouds that sail across the sky 
 Are prettier far than these." 
 [38] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 After an early supper, with the clearing weather, 
 came the walk to Stony Ledge. "The flowers were full 
 of wet sweetness in the sun, and the landscape was like 
 one great washed jewel in the afternoon light." The 
 sky was filled with light, fleecy clouds, like cigar- 
 shaped aeroplanes, their edges glowing in the sunset 
 light. The long spaces of the sky over the distant hills 
 were veiled in hues of beauty. We marvelled at the 
 delicately blending interwoven colors. 
 
 Just where the sun went down there was the appear- 
 ance of an illuminated castle buttressed with stately 
 towers. We had never witnessed a rarer beauty than 
 that which clung about the close of that summer's day. 
 While the sky and clouds passed through various 
 changes in the lightly tinted colorings, the shadows 
 softly crept up the steep westerly side of Greylock. 
 At length the fading light warned us to cease our dream- 
 ing, and reluctantly we returned to camp, walking back 
 in the evening shadows, grateful that such a vision had 
 been vouchsafed us. 
 
 "Now came still evening on, and twilight gray 
 Had in her sober livery all things clad; 
 Silence accompany'd." . . . 
 
 Later in the evening the great fire was built. The 
 dry spruce tree-tops, thrown aside the year before by 
 the road builders, flashed wide sheets of flame as we 
 discussed the heavenly bodies in the wide arch of 
 heaven above us — Mars and its inhabitants, the known 
 distances of the other planets, and here Grace, (though 
 the youngest), carried off the honors; modern inven- 
 tions in electricity and the wonders of the woods and 
 hills. 
 
 [391 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Tuesday, the 20th : — 
 
 " Fresh o'er the mountains breaks forth the morning." 
 
 We brought down a fallen tree from the trail and 
 made ready for our expected guests. They arrived at 
 noon, bringing Clara to take Grace's place. All dined 
 at "the Brookside Inn " our kind friends having brought 
 various dainties to replenish our woodland larder. It 
 would be impossible to repeat the hon mots that enliv- 
 ened that glorious feast. Good cheer at this Inn is 
 proverbial ! 
 
 After dining came the trip to Stony Ledge to view 
 "the Hopper" and the mountains. 
 
 "How many million years have gone to mould 
 Those mountain fastnesses ? " 
 
 The view from the spruce tower was delightful. We 
 noted the long line of the recent land-slide in "the 
 Inner Hopper," on the Dewey Phillips tract, and traced 
 the heart-shaped leaf-hidden brooks in the deep in- 
 clines on the steep westerly side of Greylock and the 
 enchanting view toward Mt. Everett. The Vermont 
 hills, on each side Mt. Simonds, were very attractive, 
 and the mountains on the west! 
 
 This was the day of days for the distant views. Just 
 beyond the narrow western valley rose the long line 
 of the Taconics, with here and there a rounded summit; 
 their sides pierced with gorges, down into which the 
 lengthening afternoon shadows slowly creep. Beyond 
 was a second line of hills. Still beyond, far in the north 
 west, rose the higher peaks — a friendly, family group 
 of mountains circling about their chief, Mt. Marcy, — 
 the delightful region of the Adirondacks whose sum- 
 mits at sunset are flushed with crimson — distant moun- 
 
 [401 
 
Top. Greylock from the south, overlooking the city ol Putslicld. 
 
 Middle. Adams from the summit. 
 
 Bottom. The Camping-ground. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 tains far above the horizon, forever resting in stately 
 peace. 
 
 After our guests had departed, the three girls went 
 down through the woods toward the sunset ; to while 
 away an hour at the brook, leaving me to read the 
 papers of the last few days kindly left by our guests. 
 I note that Herbert Latham, the aviator, has half 
 way crossed the English Channel from Sangatte, 
 France, and that a Pittsfield man is trying to interest 
 aeroplane manufacturers to send machines to the 
 Berkshires. We may yet be able to fly from intellec- 
 tual and industrial Pittsfield to Greylock 
 
 " Sailing with supreme dominion 
 Through the azure deep of air." 
 
 The idea of an " air line road " to Greylock was always 
 captivating. 
 
 WE FIND OURSELVES HAPPY TO BE HERE 
 
 There is something amid these mountains to appeal 
 to everyone. To observe the little things about us is 
 to find joy everywhere ; but here especially. It was 
 Stevenson who wrote "the spirit of delight comes often 
 upon small wings." It was Hodgson who wrote of 
 The Man in the Hills 
 
 "And when the clouds are on the land 
 In shelter he may lie, 
 And watch adown the misty glens 
 
 The rain go marching by, 
 Along the silent flanks of fells 
 Whose heads are in the sky. " 
 
 Here we have at break of day the wonder of the 
 
 [41] 
 
THE GLORY OF GBEYLOCK 
 
 dawn, the colors of the sky at sunrise, the open day, 
 the view of nearby and distant mountains, the open 
 spaces and the forests, the wild flowers and the ferns, 
 the clouds, the birds on the wing or in their nests, the 
 woodland paths, the sunset, the twilight and the stars, 
 the moon and the great mysteries of the night. They 
 tell us the geologist finds here a wide field for inves- 
 tigating the formation of the mountains and the 
 Hopper, that the botanist is greatly interested. We 
 all may not be so deeply versed as they, but every lover 
 of nature can find many things to delight in, every 
 artist enough to fill his sketch book, and all of us some- 
 thing of interest. 
 
 It is indeed good just to be here. This camping 
 ground, small but sheltered, is such a lovely spot. I 
 know of no other where such peace and quiet are, save 
 where our friend is camping near the Cascade on 
 Money Brook. 
 
 "And lo! where davming day doth never peepe, 
 His dwelling is, . . . . 
 And more to lull him in his slumber soft 
 A trickling streame from high rocks tumbling downe, 
 No other noise, nor people's troubled cryes, 
 As still are wont to annoy the wall'd towne, 
 Might there be heard; but careless Quiet lyes, 
 Wrapt in eternall silence." .... 
 
 One loves to recall these sentences from the old book 
 published in Charlestown in 1800. "Happy he whose 
 innocent life passes ... in the enjoyment of the 
 beauties of nature. The whole creation smiles upon 
 him, and joy attends him wherever he goes, and under 
 whatever shade he reposes. Pleasure springs out of 
 
 [42] 
 
THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 
 
 every source, exhales from each flower and resounds in 
 every grove. Happy he who takes pleasure in inno- 
 cent delights. His mind is serene as a calm summer's 
 day. His affections are gentle and pure as the per- 
 fume of the flowers around him." 
 
 By the way, what better companion can there be 
 than a good old book? 
 
 " Oh for a booke and a shady nooke, 
 
 With the green leaves whispering overhead 
 
 Where I may read all at my ease 
 Both of the new and old. 
 
 For a jolly good booke wherein to looke 
 Is better to me than gold." 
 
 But here come the girls, and I must gather the 
 wood! 
 
 Wednesday, the 21st: — 
 
 " When shaws be sheene and swards full fayre. 
 And leaves both large and longe, 
 It is merrye walking in the fayre forest 
 To hear the small birdie's song." 
 
 "What lightness, delicacy and grace the bird pos- 
 sesses." I know you are familiar with that sentence. 
 We enjoyed the five hours' trip from the Camping 
 Ground up to "the lower divide," and thence southerly 
 over the newly outlined trail toward Saddle Ball. 
 The birds sang sweetly all along the way, chanting 
 melody on every bush. The mother birds flew away 
 from their nests on hearing our approach. Such cun- 
 ning nests ; one, with four white eggs, tucked away under 
 its leafy covering in the very middle of the trail. 
 
 f 431 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 This walk in the remote and secluded recesses of the 
 mountain was one to be cherished in the memory. We 
 heard sweet, delicious strains of melody which touched 
 responsive chords, bird notes full of tenderness. Amid 
 these wild and silent woods we heard notes illusive, 
 simple, plaintive. We listened until our souls were 
 filled with gentle, sweet sensations. 
 
 Have you ever stopped to think it all over.f^ Where did 
 the birds come from.'^ If it be true that in the begin- 
 ning the soul was called from other worlds, that at the 
 end it will leave the body and fly hence elsewhere, 
 may it not be that the plaintive note of the wood bird 
 wakes in us some dim consciousness, some remembrance 
 that somewhere, sometime, we were amid even fairer 
 scenes than these ? 
 
 This was the first party to go over the newly out- 
 lined path. A well-graded drive should follow\ The 
 people of central and southern Berkshire would greatly 
 enjoy such a way, while those from the north would 
 delight in the wide view to the south. 
 
 Thursday, the 22nd: — 
 
 Clara kept camp while Irene, Esther and I walked to 
 the summit. With Earle Bauer I went down the North 
 Adams road until we could just see the iron kettle and 
 thence, by a blind trail, over the ridge easterly to the 
 Bellows Pipe trail, and thence far down the trail to the 
 Bellows Pipe pasture. The vale sweeps up gracefully 
 from the north, curving over to the south, a beautiful 
 spot where on a bright day one forgets that at times 
 the wind sweeps through between the heights with 
 great velocity. 
 
 Thoreau's trip to the mountain, (before 1839) was up 
 
 [441 
 
THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 
 
 through the Notch and Bellows Pipe. He first went 
 on to Ravenscrag on the east and sighted a diagonal 
 line to the summit, lining the trees to keep his course 
 as he climbed. He preferred not to follow the old 
 path. The story of his trip, of the mountain-top then 
 tree-covered, of his night alone on the mountain, of the 
 sunrise above the clouds, may be found in his ** Week 
 on the Concord and Merrimac." 
 
 Friday, the 23rd: — 
 
 A southerly storm and the camp slept late. The 
 girls brought down boards and kindlings from the old 
 Italian camp. They looked like boys in caps and closely 
 buttoned slickers. They are excellent campers, fear- 
 less, careful and very good cooks. In the afternoon 
 Esther made fudge and the girls kept their tents, while 
 I looked over my directions of how to reach Greylock 
 and a short general article on the Hopper. The fire 
 went out Jn the storm and camp was prepared for a 
 rainy night. The camp slept amid the pattering of 
 rain drops on the tents, a gentle, soothing, sleep-com- 
 pelling sound. You recall those exquisitely humorous 
 little lines, 
 
 " But we always know 
 That the sun will shine again 
 
 In a day or so." 
 
 Saturday, the 2^th : — 
 
 The camp fire was built at six. Still the rain and 
 when not raining a deep, deep mist. Breakfast at 
 eight. A mist and the light pattering of the showers. 
 **Wet green woods and bramble-dew." Everything 
 was clean and fresh as I went up to "the cathedral 
 woods," even the leaves had washed their faces, but the 
 
 [45 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 birds hardly had peeped. They will only warble a 
 few notes until the weather clears. 
 
 Knowing that we were soon to break camp, and that 
 our stock of wood was running low, I ventured to place 
 on the fire the great round log the girls had sawed out and 
 placed for a seat near the fire. This was a mistake ! When 
 the fair-haired, gentle Irene discovered the sacrilege 
 and beheld the log wrapped in flames, she noted not 
 the beauty of the glowing fire but fairly blazed herself. 
 Too late I regretted my hasty action. The splendid 
 log burned beautifully, lasting throughout our stay, 
 but ever since I have been careful, attentive and very 
 quiet when the graceful Irene is about. Even old Virgil 
 long, long ago questioned "Can there be such anger in 
 celestial minds .'^" 
 
 The fudge holds out and is delicious. The sun came 
 out at three o'clock. Irene and Clara went Up to the 
 summit. They came down by the roads in three quar- 
 ters of an hour. They are swift walkers. 
 
 Sunday, the 25th : — 
 
 The mist and bad weather continued, "the morning 
 mist hiding the high mountain crest." Irene and 
 Esther went down into "the Heart of Greylock," one of 
 the fairy fastnesses of the mountain, to bathe in the 
 little pool. They were gone two hours. 
 
 " Soon the summer's sweetness 
 AU the land will fill, 
 Murk and mist no longer 
 Hide the distant hill." 
 
 It cleared off about two o'clock. Francis came up 
 from Cheshire and then some quaint photographs were 
 
 [46] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 taken. After lunch we all went up to Stony Ledge. 
 Francis and I came bac^ to camp, and he left at twenty 
 minutes after five for his walk down the hills. In the 
 evening we sat around the circle of the great fire re- 
 peating poetry and recalling the writings about the 
 Berkshire Hills; Pres. Dwight's of Yale, in his "Travels 
 in New England and New York," Pres. Hitchcock's as 
 state geologist, Thoreau's wondrous description of the 
 sunrise, Mrs. Sigourney's classic poem "The Stock- 
 bridge Bowl," Miss Sedgwick's writings, Hawthorne's 
 little descriptions of the Greylock range. Holmes, Long- 
 fellow, Bryant and Herman Melville, (and here Clara 
 carried off the honors). 
 
 The fire of glowing logs, the shower of sparks as the 
 dry spruce tops kindle into flame, lighting up the green 
 of the young trees encircling the camp and the dark- 
 some spruces beyond, the stars shining forth in the 
 sky above as the fire dies down, the quiet of the night, 
 the pause in the low, sweet converse as each one is 
 occupied with gentle thoughts, — these all will be re- 
 called, and the picture of the camp fire, the tents, the 
 woods, will remain an ever pleasing memory. After 
 the girls had retired to their tent for the night, I sought 
 my own and took out the old book for a quiet reading. 
 They tell us that the love and appreciation of the 
 beautiful in nature is a modern acquirement, but this 
 old book, which I prize so highly as the gift of a friend, 
 was written over a hundred years ago and has in it 
 quotations from still an earlier work. Let us read a 
 few sentences : — 
 
 " The soft air of the spring awakens the winged song- 
 sters, the variety of whose music charms the ear and 
 fills the soul with a sweet and a serene pleasure. These 
 
 [471 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 splendid inhabitants of the air possess all those qual- 
 ities that can soothe the heart and please the fancy; 
 the brightest colors; the roundest forms; the most 
 lively manners; and the sweetest music: They enliven 
 our walks; and throughout all the retreats of retire- 
 ment, fill our hearts with gaiety, and give harmony to 
 meditation." 
 
 Here is another — "With what pure joy the soul is 
 filled, in contemplating the beauties of creation! When 
 the mountains and valleys grow green before our eyes; 
 when the lark soaring in the bright clouds, and the 
 feathered choiristers in the shady grove, warble their 
 sweet song; when the flowers perfume the air around 
 us ; when the morning dawn diffuses universal glad- 
 ness; or when the setting sun tinges our woods and 
 hills with the finest glow; what happiness does the 
 enjoyment of nature in full beauty afford us!" 
 
 How the sentences in the old book run on — "Where- 
 soever we go; whether we climb the hills; range the 
 valleys; or seek the shade of the forests; a variety of 
 beauties present themselves to us; all different from 
 each other, but each possessed of charm suflScient to 
 engage our attention. The pleasing notes and the 
 various melody of the birds fill our hearts with a sweet 
 and innocent delight." 
 
 We love to read these quaint old sentences with the 
 long s's, and we delight in the thought of sharing with 
 the worthies of by-gone generations the enthusiasm 
 which the life in the open ever engenders. Long, long 
 ago our forbears found pleasure in the groves, the 
 vales and upon the mountains. The generations to 
 come may use different phrases, may write from othejr 
 standpoints, but the good people of the olden time 
 
 f 481 
 
Top. Greylock from the east. 
 
 Middle. On the North Adams road. 
 
 Bottom. The Cottage from the tower, and the old barn on the right (1910). The Taconics in the west. 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 fully grasped and appreciated their beautiful natural 
 surroundings — nay, more, they looked so reverently 
 from nature up to nature's God, They believed, too, 
 in what Carlyle has termed " the divineness in these 
 laboratories of ours," and he continues " We ought not 
 to forget it! That once well forgotten, I know not 
 what else were well worth remembering." 
 
 Even these old worthies may have taken their in- 
 spiration from the sacred lyrics of the Psalms, those 
 wonderful descriptions of earth, sea and sky which 
 have never been matched in all our modern literature. 
 
 Camping upon these mountains, near the four 
 highest points in Massachusetts, is delightful! From 
 these high places the hills about us wear differing as- 
 pects under changing conditions of the atmosphere. 
 At times, clear and distinct, they seem so near, so 
 intimate and friendly. At times they melt away into 
 the blue distances, while the cultivated fields, the 
 ranges of hills, the winding valleys, stretch far away 
 into new and inspiring beauty — a veritable dream -land 
 realm. 
 
 When the clouds gather and the storm threatens, 
 they sometimes wear a forbidding look, but when the 
 storm is over they are clothed in glorious sunshine. 
 When the light-winged, fleecy clouds float along the 
 sky the shadows chase each other over the hills and 
 one never tires of watching. The hills are great com- 
 panions. They seem almost human in their moods. 
 They cultivate serenity. They insensibly appeal to 
 us. After the strife, the cares, the turmoil of life, it 
 is sweet to rest in their quiet companionship. The 
 plains are lovely, but the hills are the camping grounds 
 of the gods themselves. 
 
 [491 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 The tonic of the mountain air, gentle exercise, op- 
 portunity for reflection, for meditation, which **is not 
 the dream but the reahty of Hfe," the quiet, rest, 
 bring much of pleasure ; but the love of grasses, the 
 ferns, the wild flowers, of all the things that grow, the 
 beauty of the sunrise, day, the sunset, the star-lit sky, 
 the different shaped trees, the form and coloring of 
 their bark and leaves, the little streams trickling over 
 the steep cliffs, their rocky edges fringed with mosses 
 and the lichens ; all the colors blending in delicate har- 
 mony, the mnumerable little things noted along the 
 mountain trails, the fascinating lights and shades, the 
 deep ravines, the wildness of the enclosed secluded 
 little spaces, "the swift passing shadows of wind- 
 driven clouds" — the love of all these, and more, yields 
 a delight unspeakable. Camping here, amid these 
 mountains, is something more than a summer's day 
 outing ! 
 
 "Nothing is lacking to complete the charm and per- 
 fection of this spot save the presence of a scholar," 
 who could tell us of its history and its beauty. Could 
 we have here Prof. Albert Hopkins, Thoreau, Haw- 
 thorne, Prof. A. L. Perry, Prof. Edward Hitchcock, or 
 Miss Catherine Sedgwick, who once delighted in these 
 mountains and made a study of them, and could we 
 listen to their discussions, we should understand more 
 fully the wonder and delight of it all, as they pointed 
 out attractions which had escaped our notice. 
 
 We are waiting, too, for the skilled writer, who is 
 even now translating for us the natural beauties of 
 southern Berkshire, to pitch his tent for a season upon 
 those heights. There is a call here for his interpreta- 
 tion of these scenes. 
 
 [501 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 Monday, the 26th : — 
 
 The home call has come. A most beautiful day. 
 We should enjoy a longer stay amid such peaceful 
 scenes. Never mind ! — 
 
 " Blue mists will wrap the hill, dear, 
 
 And echoes haunt the glen, 
 And sunbeams kiss the rill, dear. 
 When summer comes again." 
 
 Such a time we had striking and folding up the tents, 
 getting ready for the wagon. Mr. McDonald, who lives 
 in the cottage where the four roads meet, near the stone 
 school-house in upper Lanesborough, soon appeared, 
 this time with a pair of blacks. The large "democrat 
 wagon" was loaded. It seemed as if room could not 
 be found for everything. We had not realized we had 
 so many camp belongings. When all was ready a 
 photograph was taken. The man in charge knew how 
 the luggage should be stowed away. 
 
 Alas for his best laid plans! The girls left the camp 
 by the shorter path through " the Cathedral Woods " 
 and walked up the road to " the high bridge " where 
 they were to await the wagon. I followed behind the 
 wagon to see that nothing was lost. Just over the brook 
 by the camp one back wheel sank into the soft earth. 
 The horses stopped and could not start. The heavy 
 load tilted to one side. I placed my shoulder to the 
 wheel; McDonald gently urged his horses. The com- 
 bined efiFort was unavailing. That wagon never budged. 
 
 On our second trial the nigh horse balked. The 
 driver was patient and rearranged the harness. It 
 was impossible to back and start anew. We thought 
 of expedients to which one sometimes resorts on such 
 
 [51] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 occasions ; putting a pebble in the horse's ear to distract 
 his attention from the things of earth; burning brush 
 under him to remind him of the wrath to come; but we 
 tried in other ways, — stroked his head, patted his neck. 
 
 After a time of waiting, while the birds sang, oh so 
 sweetly! in the thicket, a gentle breeze came down 
 from the Wilbur clearing three miles away, through 
 "the Hopper "and up the trail, bearing the fragrance 
 of strawberries and luscious growing grass, and that 
 horse started with a jump, dragging the other horse, 
 driver, load and all. With a warlike whoop from 
 McDonald we cleared the ground a few feet, and then 
 that horse stopped again, turned his head, laid back 
 his ears, planted his feet. 
 
 At such a time how the soul longs for a dictionary of 
 refined expressions. The words from the old book 
 came to mind as I looked about me: *'0 how beautiful 
 is nature. The grass and flowers grow luxurious; the 
 trees are covered with foliage, the gentle zephyr salutes 
 us; the flocks seek their pasture; the tender bleating 
 lambs skip and rejoice in their existence; (I hear and 
 see them now on Stony Ledge) ; millions of points of 
 grass rise up in this field and to each point hangs a 
 drop of dew. What harmony in the notes of the birds 
 from yonder hill. Everything expresses joy; every- 
 thing inspires it. It reigns in the hills and dales, in 
 the woods and in the groves. O how beautiful is 
 nature!" 
 
 That is all very fine of course, but here just now is 
 this stubborn animal. I wonder if that worthy old 
 author ever had anything to do with a balky horse ? 
 If he ever did, I warrant you he walloped him till the 
 hair came off in patches. As a last resort I began to 
 
 [52] 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 sing "Merrily we roll along, roll along." Perhaps it 
 was some suggestion, some sweet reminiscence, or 
 sheer fright at my rendering of the air ; at all events 
 that horse started. It was a joyful moment, and I 
 realized, as never before, the power of song. 
 
 Alas! how brief the fleeting joys of earth! Without 
 any reason whatever, unexpectedly, the nigh hind 
 wheel buckled under. There followed the bending of 
 spokes, an ominous crackling, and the spokes showed 
 their ends white on the hub and rim of the wheel and 
 again we stopped. If one will go camping, with a big 
 loaded wagon, one must be equal to emergencies! 
 
 Taking a tent pole from the wagon, bracing it against 
 the strong wide step, turning the wheel meanwhile, 
 prying upon the felloes, we bent the rim of that wheel 
 into proper form. Buckets of water were lugged from 
 the brook, poured upon the hubs and spokes. We had 
 escaped the soft spot in the road, been gentle with a 
 balky horse, overcome the dryness of parched wood, 
 and had actually progressed about 200 feet from camp. 
 The birds still sang their lovely melodies. Oh! the 
 harmony of Nature! 
 
 Again we started, but that old hind wheel struck a 
 grass-hidden rock and you should have seen the load 
 tumble out, first the great hats, such as worn that 
 year by gentle maidens, then brass-buckled slick- 
 ers with their sprawling arms, then the frying pans» 
 such a clatter! then the pails and blankets, and, with a 
 final crash profound, the great dry goods box of our 
 cherished crockery. 
 
 Great heavens ! how things went tumbling into chaos ! 
 The frightened horses started. The cots alone were 
 left upon the wagon. Where were the girls! We 
 
 [53 1 
 
THE GLORY OF QREYLOCK 
 
 needed them to gather up the shattered outfit. We 
 would be feminists, suflFragettes, any old thing if we 
 could only have aid. It was yet a distance to the main 
 road. We drove there, tethered one horse, and went 
 back to pick up the debris, reloading with great care. 
 The birds continued their sweet song. It is restful to 
 be with nature! 
 
 In due time we reached the high bridge. Esther 
 came to meet us. Clara had gone back over the short 
 path but had failed to find us. Irene was placed high 
 up on the driver's seat. Clara and Esther trailed down 
 the road behind the heavily laden wagon. I was left 
 behind and walked down the road to the site of the old 
 Bennett house, thence down toward the Cummings 
 farm house, and over the road in construction, to the 
 birches, near the FoUett lot, thence back to the Cum- 
 mings house and down to Cheshire, ten miles in all. 
 
 At Cheshire the car was waiting. The open railway 
 carriages speed fast through Berkshire evening shad- 
 ows. Have you ever noticed how cold the ride is after 
 the weary miles of mountain tramping? 
 
 There is no other place in the Commonwealth like 
 Greylock ! 
 
 Who can forget " those deep, deep woods, 
 The long, long road of the heart's desire. 
 The care-free vagrant hours, 
 The dusky woods where cooUng shadows he. 
 The mountain heights, in distance looming high. 
 The purple flushing of the eastern sky, 
 The stately progress of the sun toward even. 
 Night's mantle dropping from the quiet heaven." 
 
 We shall miss the peace that mountains possess, the 
 "tender moments of the morning and the twilight" 
 
 [54 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 "The chorus of birds when the summer day closes 
 The laughter of rills and the whisper of trees." 
 
 In these days there are many articles written about 
 the birds. Here are some suggestions from reading one: 
 
 There is a charm of elusiveness and mystery asso- 
 ciated with winged things. In the last days of snow we 
 watch for the birds. We are left in loneliness when, 
 after the summer, they are gone. In the autumn there 
 are the empty bird nests. So many of them leave the 
 "winter silences" behind them. 
 
 We quote three sentences entire: "Their wisdom I 
 envy, their sky wisdom and earth wisdom, their exquis- 
 ite skill in building, their canny household ways. They 
 have "the charm of music, and motion, and color. In 
 their very elusiveness lies the deepest appeal of this 
 people of the air." 
 
 Greylock is the sylvan abode of the birds. " Where 
 else can you find deeper shades, . . . where else can 
 you listen to the songs of endless birds which with their 
 music refresh the weary soul and charm the tired senses 
 to sleep . " " The air is full of light and song — the woods » 
 valleys, mountains and (little brooks) laugh for joy." 
 
 On Greylock "the sky is blue and the sun and stars 
 seem to shine more brightly than in any other place on 
 earth." Because of the situation in these delicious 
 hills, it is a Paradise, and ever more, because of enjoy- 
 able companionship. Whenever you have the chance, 
 flee " from the din and turmoil of the city and enjoy 
 the rural delights dear to your soul." 
 
 Should you ask us what was the greatest charm of 
 this ten days' outing, the gentle companionship, the 
 beautiful camp near the brook, the walks amid sylvan 
 scenes where "the tempered light of the woods is like a 
 
 [55 1 
 
THE GLORY OF GREYLOCK 
 
 perpetual morning," the wild beauty of the rough 
 woodland trails, the forest, the little brooks in the steep 
 rocky gorges, the shadows of the clouds upon the 
 mountain sides, the nearby bank of forest trees, tower- 
 ing a thousand feet above us and stretching along for 
 six miles, the wondrous ravines, the Hopper, the sight 
 of the great hills themselves, the distant view of moun- 
 tains, the superb sunsets, the star-strewn sky, the camp 
 fire ; we would answer that we found a chief delight in 
 the singing of the birds, when first we heard 
 
 "A low, thick, lubric gurgle, soft as love, 
 Yet sad as memory, through the silence poured 
 Like starlight," 
 
 as the thrush's song "trembled through the stillness, at 
 the delicious hour of gloaming." 
 
 Nothing can equal the twilight anthem of the birds! 
 
LIBRARY OF 
 
 h':'- '■'■' J: i 
 
 ! 
 
 <';-";,!',i 
 
 , III 
 
 •I n ■ =, 
 
 I •,, , : !■ 
 
 
 u 
 
 
 ■!■ , i