Last visiting these heights ere she vanishes, Spring, like the sunset, flings her sweetest charms upon them.

Each tuft of upland grass is musked like a bouquet with perfume.

The balmy breeze swings to and fro like a censer.

On one side the eye follows for the space of an eagle's flight, the serpentine mountain chains, southwards from the great purple dome of Taconic--the St.Peter's of these hills--northwards to the twin summits of Saddleback, which is the two-steepled natural cathedral of Berkshire; while low down to the west the Housatonie winds on in her watery labyrinth, through charming meadows basking in the reflected rays from the hill-sides.

At this season the beauty of every thing around you populates the loneliness of your way.