WACHUSETT. 193 



tain sides, although they had been plenty below. 

 The call of the ovenbird occasionally reached 

 our ears, and at one point the scolding of a 

 superb scarlet tanager drew our eyes to the spot 

 where his plumage seemed burning among the 

 leaves. 



The summit, reached just at noon, proved 

 anything but attractive. Stripped of trees and 

 bushes, it has been afflicted by a large and com- 

 monplace hotel, several barns and ugly sheds, 

 and a bowling alley, billiard room, and tintype 

 gallery. The north wind was polluted by the 

 escaping odors of a cask of gasoline, and when 

 we sought the groves below the crest, we encoun- 

 tered tin cans, broken bottles and other remains 

 of previous seasons. When one seeks gasoline, 

 electric bells, and a tintype gallery he has a 

 right to feel pleased on finding them, but when I 

 seek Nature on a mountain top and find her fet- 

 tered by civilization, I have a right to feel 

 aggrieved. However, we endeavored to forget 

 man and his gasoline in the contemplation of 

 the beautiful. 



What first struck us was the number of fires 

 which were contributing columns of blue smoke 

 to an atmosphere already dimmed by its thin 

 strata. More than a dozen such fires were in 

 sight. Thanks to them, the view was soft and 

 dreamy in tone, giving the idea of distance more 



