<>ur Berfcsbire. 5 



Village, and across the plains of Canaan, to the west- 

 ward, the blue shoulders of the Dome and Race 

 Mountain swell against the sky, the traveller feels 

 that he has been ushered fittingly into this fair hill- 

 country. 



Yet from the westward the approach is no less 

 fascinating, perhaps is more impressive. There is the 

 long range of the Taconics, stretching from Williams- 

 town to Boston Corners, a continuous rampart, a 

 natural boundary line between the states whose 

 borders meet along its ridges. Coming toward it 

 from the Hudson, one sees its surfaces, unbroken at 

 first, and reared like a solid barrier, by-and-by divide 

 into separate hills, drop away into ravines, open a 

 way here and there for a winding road, through 

 passes and valleys and notches. Then to climb the 

 long steep slopes, and twist around the mountain- 

 sides, and from the broad ridges look down into the 

 valleys and across to the innumerable hills of Berk- 

 shire, is to be filled with all the joy of a sudden and 

 ecstatic vision. 



There is a peculiar romance about the Williams- 

 town portal to the county, for that was once the 

 gateway by which the old Indian trail, entering from 

 the westward, and trodden by many a war-party and 

 many a squad of dusky hunters, led down to the Con- 

 necticut and Housatonic valleys. One can hardly 

 commend the eastern gateways to the enchanted 

 country. For though they are rugged and wild and 

 picturesque they deny to the wayfarer that definite 



