THE BLUE HILLS. 6 1 



one of those things of beauty that are joys for- 

 ever. Exhaled to the skies, it may float " a 

 sun-bright glory there," and wafted to an- 

 other continent, may dance down from the 

 summits of the Alps and water the valleys of 

 Switzerland. No, there is nothing lost. 

 When we ourselves, less useful in the world 

 than its rivers, shall drift away into the ocean 

 of eternity, we, like them, may be exhaled to 

 serve a better purpose in some other sphere 

 of the universe. 



Half mounting Milton Hill, we turn to the 

 right, entering upon the old Taunton turn- 

 pike, and keeping a southerly course for a few 

 miles, gain the highest point, which is in the 

 notch of the Blue Hills. Approaching it, and 

 afterwards descending the southern slope as 

 the mist hangs over the neighboring hills, it 

 required little effort of the imagination to 

 transport one's self to the White Mountains 

 or the Sierras, so charmingly delusive was the 

 scenery as it was thrown out of proportion by 

 the hazy atmosphere. Thus ^ we may travel 

 away many miles at a very cheap rate, and 

 when the sun breaks out, we may come as 

 easily home. 



For long reaches this old turnpike is little 



