All of these
you may have, to hang on the walls of memory where no Napoleon
can come to take them to a Louvre.
THE LURE OF THE MOHAWK TRAIL
Along the Mohawk trail, standing gold and white
Where the crystal rivers flash and gleam;
The fragrant birch trees greet the sight,
And gently droop to kiss the steam.
And the lure of the pine on the Mohawk trail,
Is tuned to the spirits' restful mood,
It murmurs and calls on the passing gale,
For all to enjoy its solitude.
Still, the birch and pine all silver and gray,
Call from the Berkshires and seem to say:
"Leave your lowland worries behind
The petty cares that hinder and blind;
Come hither and find a quieter spot
Where troubles and cares and sorrow are not.
Come out where the heavens just drip with gold
And the Divine Artist's paintings ne'er grow old.
- O. O. H.
Scenery such as you meet with here has a more telling effect
upon one than a masterpiece of sculpture, literature or music,
and infinitely surpasses man's most worthy efforts. Why cross
the ocean or spend an over-amount of time in the art galleries
of our own country, when we dwell so near Art's primal source?
Out here the Divine Artist, with all rare colors, has painted
scenes of panoramic splendor and every day new and grander views
are displayed, for He sketches no two alike. Then, what
harmonious blending of light and shadow; what glowing veils of
color that no Turner has ever caught! At every turn in the road
new pictures are passed, revealing rare and unrivaled beauty.
You need not sigh because you are so far removed from grand
opera, for the very trees and ferns are eloquent with melodies
irresistible; although their silence may be perfect, the heart
perceives the richest, fullest harmonies.
You should not lament the fact that you have never heard the
skylark or nightingale for, their melody, although infinitely
rich and varied, do not attain that sublime height of harmony
found in the thrush's song. If you long to go to Europe to hear
the lark and nightingale, save the best trip for the last and
come out to the White mountains, where you can hear more
ethereal songs.
With such pure air, stately trees, sparkling brooks, and singing
birds, surely the sick would all speedily recover and the lines
of suffering and care be smoothed from their pain-traced faces,
could they spend a few weeks on the Mohawk trail.
This trail is one of the newest and by far the most beautiful
opened by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. That grand old
state, whose valiant sons were ever ready to guard the rights of
a freedom and liberty loving people, can be justly proud of the
part she has always played in progressive movements. This superb
stretch of macadam road traverses a bit of mountain country
hitherto untraveled, save by chance pedestrians or wandering
Indians. It passes through a region whose marvelous beauty and
varied scenery is unrivaled in the East.
Centuries ago the savage Mohawk, in his annual journeys from the
valley of the Hudson to the valley of the Connecticut, traveled
this scenic highway. This is one of the oldest and most
beautiful highways on the continent. It was built at a cost of
over a third of a million dollars. This seems a large sum to pay
for a stretch of road only fifteen miles in length, "but a trip
over it" as one traveler said, "is well worth the price." "Each
day in summer, thousands of tourists pass over it, attracted by
the freshness and beauty of the Berkshire Hills."
The old trail crossed parts of three states: Eastern New York,
northern Vermont, and western Massachusetts. After the white man
came and subdued the Indian, this old trail was still used as
the only communication between the East and West in this section
of the country. What historic ground it traverses, and what
stirring scenes were witnessed here! From the Hudson eastward it
passes the home of the original knickerbocker, celebrated by
Washington Irving, and runs near Bennington, famous as the place
in which General Stark, with the aid of reinforcements led by
Colonel Seth Warner, defeated two detachments of Burgoyne's
army.
Here were collected the supplies the British did not get. Here,
too, is located a beautiful monument three hundred and one feet
in height, which commemorates the event. It leads through
Pownal, the oldest permanent settlement in Vermont, where both
Garfield and Aruthur taught school and near which, is located
"Snow Hole," a cave of perpetual snow and ice. Williamstown,
Mass., also lies along this highway. It grew up near Fort Mass,
which was constructed by Colonel Ephraim Williams as a barrier
to guard the western frontier of the Massachusetts Bay Colony.
Here is located Williams College, one of the most famous of the
smaller New England institutions; also Thompson Memorial Chapel,
which is considered by architectural authorities to be one of
the finest in this country. In Mission Park is located the
famous haystack monument, marking the birthplace of foreign
missions, a spot visited by pilgrims from all over the world.
We were indeed entering the Switzerland of America. Hawthorne in
his notebook characterized its beauty thus: "I have never driven
through such romantic scenery, where there was such a variety of
mountain shapes as this, and though it was a bright sunny day,
the mountains diversified the air with sunshine and shadow and
glory and gloom."
"Never came day more joyfully upon mountains," and never was any
more fully enjoyed. The dew was almost as refreshing as rain, so
copiously had it gathered on the grass and flowers. Their
brilliant spikes of blossoms were like magic wands, enticing us
through the place like fair enchantresses.
