56 DECEMBER OUT-OF-DOORS. 



Christmas. I rose long before daylight, 

 crossed the Mystic River marshes as the 

 dawn was beginning to break, and shortly 

 after sunrise was on my way down the South 

 Shore. Leaving the cars at Cohasset, I 

 sauntered over the Jerusalem Road to Nan- 

 tasket, spent a little while on the beach, 

 and brought up at North Cohasset, where I 

 was attracted by a lonesome-looking road 

 running into the woods all by itself, with a 

 guide-board marked "Turkey Hill." Why 

 not accept the pleasing invitation, which 

 seemed meant on purpose for just such an 

 idle pedestrian as myself? As for Turkey 

 Hill, I had never heard of it, and presumed 

 it to be some uninteresting outlying hamlet. 

 My concern, as a saunter er's ought always 

 to be, was with the road itself, not with 

 what might lie at the end of it. I did not 

 discover my mistake till I had gone half a 

 mile, more or less, when the road all at once 

 turned sharply to the right and commenced 

 ascending. Then it dawned upon me that 

 Turkey Hill must be no other than the long, 

 gradual, grassy slope at which I had already 

 been looking from the railway station. The 

 prospect of sea and land was beautiful; all 



