Quabbin the Story of a Small Town With Outlooks Upon Puritan Life

Whilst the greatest effort has been made to ensure the quality of this text, due to the historical nature of this content, in some rare cases there may be minor issues with legibility. The valley and neighborhood have not essentially changed in the hundred and sixty years since their first settlement; for the natural features are too marked to be affected by the superficial touches Of man. Ploughs and axes do not disturb the eternal basis of landscape and a few houses more, or a few trees less, do not matter. The hill that rises south Of the village was once cov ered with great oaks and chestnuts which had sheltered Indian hunters. The red men called the hill Great Quabbin, and the name belonged to the district as well. Year after year the white settlers waged war upon the venerable trees: instead Of being a patriarchal forest to be Cherished, it was a piece Of stubborn woods to be Cleared away. By and by lines Of fence, like geometric diagrams, were traced on the hill's broad Shoulders, enclosing sage-green pastures, sparsely tufted with wood-fern and huckleberry bushes, and known by all boys of the village to be rosy with strawberries every summer. It was a Delectable Mountain for Children, even after the majestic trees were felled. The ascent was easy; for a primitive road, partly grass-grown, led to the table-land at the summit, where were two small, decay ing farmhouses, Since destroyed. TO one looking back when half-way up, the village below, nestling under Shade-trees on both Sides Of the river, had a soft and almost unreal beauty; but as one Climbed, it sank out Of sight under the swelling buttress Of the hill. The upper region was alpine in its Cool serenity, its airy pastures, sparkling brook, and broad horizon.

The valley and neighborhood have not essentially changed in the hundred and sixty years since their first settlement; for the natural features are too marked to be affected by the superficial touches Of man. Ploughs and axes do not disturb the eternal basis of landscape and a few houses more, or a few trees less, do not matter. The hill that rises south Of the village was once cov ered with great oaks and chestnuts which had sheltered Indian hunters. The red men called the hill Great Quabbin, and the name belonged to the district as well. Year after year the white settlers waged war upon the venerable trees: instead Of being a patriarchal forest to be Cherished, it was a piece Of stubborn woods to be Cleared away. By and by lines Of fence, like geometric diagrams, were traced on the hill's broad Shoulders, enclosing sage-green pastures, sparsely tufted with wood-fern and huckleberry bushes, and known by all boys of the village to be rosy with strawberries every summer. It was a Delectable Mountain for Children, even after the majestic trees were felled. The ascent was easy; for a primitive road, partly grass-grown, led to the table-land at the summit, where were two small, decay ing farmhouses, Since destroyed. TO one looking back when half-way up, the village below, nestling under Shade-trees on both Sides Of the river, had a soft and almost unreal beauty; but as one Climbed, it sank out Of sight under the swelling buttress Of the hill. The upper region was alpine in its Cool serenity, its airy pastures, sparkling brook, and broad horizon.