We Soon After
Passed The Village Of Nashua, On The River Of The Same Name,
Where There Is A Covered Bridge Over The Merrimack.
The Nashua,
which is one of the largest tributaries, flows from Wachusett
Mountain, through Lancaster, Groton, and other towns, where it
has formed well-known elm-shaded meadows, but near its mouth it
is obstructed by falls and factories, and did not tempt us to
explore it.
Far away from here, in Lancaster, with another companion, I have
crossed the broad valley of the Nashua, over which we had so long
looked westward from the Concord hills without seeing it to the
blue mountains in the horizon. So many streams, so many meadows
and woods and quiet dwellings of men had lain concealed between
us and those Delectable Mountains; - from yonder hill on the road
to Tyngsborough you may get a good view of them. There where it
seemed uninterrupted forest to our youthful eyes, between two
neighboring pines in the horizon, lay the valley of the Nashua,
and this very stream was even then winding at its bottom, and
then, as now, it was here silently mingling its waters with the
Merrimack. The clouds which floated over its meadows and were
born there, seen far in the west, gilded by the rays of the
setting sun, had adorned a thousand evening skies for us. But as
it were, by a turf wall this valley was concealed, and in our
journey to those hills it was first gradually revealed to us.
Summer and winter our eyes had rested on the dim outline of the
mountains, to which distance and indistinctness lent a grandeur
not their own, so that they served to interpret all the allusions
of poets and travellers.
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