Off to the Hills 13 



Along these slopes, among the limestone rocks, I 

 found rows of the Ebony Spleen wort Fern, rather rare in 

 this much-travelled way ; and on the brow of this ridge 

 were many species of common fern. The pastures are 

 barren and dry, with few bushes to break the dreary hori- 

 zon, as one approaches the western portal of the Tunnel. 



I came upon one lone Apple- Thorn bush, of genus 

 CratcBgus of the Apple Family, Nearly opposite, across 

 the valley of the south branch of the Hoosac, which 

 the Indians named the Ashuilticook, may be distin- 

 guished the smoking Limekilns ; while still farther 

 southward, the white-spired village of Adams nestles 

 at the base of Greylock, which towers serenely above 

 the shaggy shoulders of Ragged Mountain. I wan- 

 dered about the edges of the Tunnel clifis where, 

 in years gone by, had stood the impoverished cab- 

 ins which sheltered the laborers who tunnelled the 

 Hoosac. I descended into the chasm and seated my- 

 self upon the wall of rocks, waiting for the trains 

 to appear and disappear at the portal in the side of 

 the hill. Presently one from the West crept ponder- 

 ously into the cavern. The echoing roar was smothered, 

 and died slowly away until it became an indistinct mur- 

 mur. Not long afterward I felt, as well as heard, the 

 low breathings and rumblings of a locomotive coming 

 in the opposite direction. I heard its subterranean 

 groans as of a great spirit, while the smoke poured 

 forth, pushed in volumes before the engine, wreathing 

 and curling about it as it emerged, and partially con- 

 cealing its grim outlines. 



