There was something rather
ludicrous in his physiognomy and aspect. He was very free to talk with
all and sundry. He made a long eulogy on his dog Tiger, yesterday,
insisting on his good moral character, his not being quarrelsome, his
docility, and all other excellent qualities that a huge, strong, fierce
mastiff could have. Tiger is the bully of the village, and keeps all the
other dogs in awe. His aspect is very spirited, trotting massively
along, with his tail elevated and his head likewise. "When he sees a dog
that's anything near his size, he's apt to growl a little,"--Tiger had
the marks of a battle on him,--"yet he's a good dog."
Friday, August 31st.--A drive on Tuesday to Shelburne Falls, twenty-two
miles or thereabouts distant. Started at about eight o'clock in a wagon
with Mr. Leach and Mr. Birch. Our road lay over the Green Mountains, the
long ridge of which was made awful by a dark, heavy, threatening cloud,
apparently rolled and condensed along the whole summit. As we ascended
the zigzag road, we looked behind, at every opening in the forest, and
beheld a wide landscape of mountain-swells and valleys intermixed, and
old Graylock and the whole of Saddleback.
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