14000 MILES 



to rest Charlie and write letters, and the ten miles' drive 

 to Hinsdale in the afternoon was quite pleasant. It was 

 refreshing for a change to be chilly, rather than hot and 

 dusty. At Peru, six miles from Worthington, we 

 reached the point where the waters divide between the 

 Connecticut and the Housatonic. 



The night at Hinsdale was without special interest, but 

 the drive from there to Stockbridge will never be for- 

 gotten. Could it be that only two days before we were 

 dissolving with the heat, and now we needed our 

 warmest wraps. The dust was laid, all Nature fresh, 

 Charlie was at his best, and away we sped towards the 

 lovely Berkshire region, with its fine roads, beautiful 

 residences, cultivated estates and the superb views along 

 the valley of the Housatonic, in the grand old towns of 

 Pittsfield, Lenox, Lee and Stockbridge. Mr. Plumb, the 

 well-known proprietor of the quaint old inn in Stock- 

 bridge, remembered our visit there eleven years ago, and 

 asked us if we found our way to New York that time. 

 He said he remembered telling us if we had found our 

 way so far, we should find no difficulty in crossing the 

 State line. Somehow, we were afraid of the New York 

 State line then, but we have so far overcome it, that, after 

 we crossed this year, we felt so much at home that the 

 revolver was packed away a whole day, for the first time 

 since we have carried it. 



Any Berkshire book will tell you all about Mr. Plumb's 

 inn, the Sedgwick burial place, Jonathan Edwards and all 

 the rest, and we will go on, leaving enough to talk hours 

 about. We cannot go through Great Barrington without 



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