Wander beneath dark hemlock trees
and lose their way in the shadows; high up on inaccessible
mountain ledges where the river plunges in a solid amber sheet
and breaks up into avalanches of shimmering rainbow mist, and
down in the marsh where acres and acres of green grass and sedge
stretch away like gleaming stars on a winter night. Going out to
commune with Nature sounds very nice, but it requires the
patience of a job, the eyes of a Burbank, the ears of a Mozart,
and the great loving heart of a Burroughs if one is to gain the
most from one's rambles. You will never learn the hymns that the
forest and waterfalls have been singing for ages; never really
know the song of the hermit thrush or the mystery and grandeur
of mountains, if you are unwilling to pay the price. You must be
willing to climb high mountains, scramble down rocky gorges and
ravines, thread the almost impenetrable bogs and marshes, endure
fierce heat, mosquito bites, hunger and toil, "but once you are
admitted into the secrets of the out-of-doors you will begin to
wonder why you ever dined in hot stuffy restaurants, spent your
holidays in smoky, dirty cities, or did any of those
conventional things that rob us of so many fine moments of
life!"
We looked once more at the view across the lake. Someone said
God never made anything more beautiful than the scenery at
Franconia notch. But as we turned away from this entrancing
scene, we saw a boy gazing in rapt admiration away across the
lake, his face glowing with enthusiasm, his every gesture
speaking of joy and love. Here, we said, is a work more
beautiful than any mountain scenery. What infinite possibilities
are wrapped up in the soul of a boy! Leaving him standing there
we wondered what thoughts were passing through his mind, we made
our way along the mountain road.
The soul of music slumbers in the shell,
Till waked and kindled by the master's sped,
And feeling hearts - touch them but rightly - pour
A thousand melodies unheard before.
CHAPTER IX
BOSTON
What could be more delightful than a visit to Boston? Those
motoring through the New England states will find it both
interesting and profitable to tarry a while in this quaint old
place. There are so many places of interest in this city that
space forbids an enumeration of only a few of the most
important. You will probably want to see the State House with
its gilded dome which was once covered with copper plates rolled
by Paul Revere. The corner-stone of this building was laid by
the Masons, Paul Revere, Grand Master, July 4, 7795. Three times
the original building has been enlarged - an extension to the
rear in 7889, later a wing on the east, and very recently a wing
on the west.
What a throng of past memories cluster here! Near the
intersection of Boylston and Tremont streets lies the old
Central burying ground, noted as the final resting place of
Gilbert Stuart, the famous artist. You will not want to miss
seeing Park Street church, for it was here William Lloyd
Garrison delivered his first address and "America" was sung in
public for the first time. "Standing on the steps of the State
House, facing the Common, you are looking toward Saint Gaudens'
bronze relief of Col. Robert G. Shaw, commanding his colored
regiment. This is indeed a noble work of art and should not be
overlooked. "The Atheneum is well worthy of a visit, and if you
have a penchant for graveyards, you may wander over the Granary
Burying Ground, where rest the ashes of Samuel Adams, Hancock,
Sewell, Faneuil, Otis, and Revere."
We spent a delightful morning in Cambridge. It has been the home
of some of the foremost literary lights of the United States,
and just to the west of it, in Mount Auburn cemetery, lie the
mortal remains of Longfellow, Prescott, Lowell, Holmes, Motley,
and many other prominent men.
Across the blue Charles, like Greek temples rise the buildings
of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The noble marble
group of buildings of the School of Medicine of Harvard are very
impressive. As we crossed the river, we thought how often our
beloved Longfellow had looked on its peaceful tide from his
charming home in Cambridge. The view from his home is still
unobstructed, and it speaks of the veneration in which he is
held by the people of the city. It was while living at Cambridge
that he wrote his Ode to the Charles river, given below:
River, that in silence windest
Through the meadows bright and free,
Till at length thy rest thou findest
In the bosom of the sea.
Four long years of mingled feeling
Half in rest, and half in strife,
I have seen thy waters stealing
Onward, like the stream of life.
Thou hast taught me, Silent River,
Many a lesson, deep and long.
Thou hast been a generous river;
I can give thee but a song.
Oft in sadness and in illness,
I have watched thy current glide,
Till the beauty of its stillness
Overflowed me like a tide.
And in better hours and brighter,
When I saw thy waters gleam,
I have felt my heart beat lighter,
And leap upward with thy stream.
Not for this alone I love thee,
Nor because thy waves of blue
From celestial seas above thee
Take their own celestial hue.
Where yon shadowy woodlands hide thee,
And thy waters disappear,
Friends I love have dwelt beside thee,
And have made thy margin clear.
We paused in front of the old homestead to take a picture of it.
But it mattered little about the picture, for what pictures of
rarest beauty he has left us, always speaking to our hearts
messages of sympathy and love!
