14000 MILES 



lingering a bit, however, giving a thought to Bryant and 

 the lovely poems he wrote there, before we are diverted 

 by the wonderful doings of Mrs. Mark Hopkins. An 

 imposing structure puzzled us. "What is it?" we asked 

 a man. "It is a mystery," he said. We afterward were 

 told that it was designed for Mrs. Hopkins's private resi- 

 dence at present, but would be devoted to art some time 

 in the future. We cannot vouch for the latter statement, 

 but we can for the magnificence of the edifice, as well as 

 for the church with its wonderful Roosevelt organ and 

 royal parsonage, largely due to Mrs. Hopkins's liberal 

 hand. Many travel by private car, but Mrs. Hopkins has 

 a private railroad, and when she wishes to visit her San 

 Francisco home, her palace on wheels is ordered to her 

 door, as ordinary mortals call a cab. 



Sheffield had even more attractions than Great 

 Barrington and Mrs. Hopkins, for there we got home 

 letters. Next comes Salisbury, and now we are in 

 Connecticut. We spent the night at an attractive hotel 

 in Lake Village, and fancied we were at Lake Winnipi- 

 seogee, it was so like Hotel Weirs. Perhaps you think 

 we forgot we were going to the Catskills. Oh, no ; but 

 we had not been able to decide whether we would go to 

 West Point and drive up the Hudson, or to Albany and 

 drive down, so we concluded to "do" Berkshire until our 

 course was revealed. The turnpike to Poughkeepsie was 

 suggested, and as we had reached the southern limit of 

 the so-called Berkshire region, it met our favor, and we 

 went to Sharon, then crossed the New York State line, 

 which is no more formidable than visible. Still there 



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