I knocked, and an elderly woman, of very pleasing and intelligent aspect,
came at the summons, and gave me directions how to get to the south
village through an orchard and "across lots," which would bring me into
the road near the Quaker meeting-house, with gravestones round it. While
she talked, a young woman came into the pantry from the kitchen, with a
dirty little brat, whose squalls I had heard all along; the reason of his
outcry being that his mother was washing him,--a very unusual process, if
I may judge by his looks. I asked the old lady for some water, and she
gave me, I think, the most delicious I ever tasted. These mountaineers
ought certainly to be temperance people; for their mountain springs
supply them with a liquor of which the cities and the low countries can
have no conception. Pure, fresh, almost sparkling, exhilarating,--such
water as Adam and Eve drank.
I passed the south village on a by-road, without entering it, and was
taken up by the stage from Pittsfield a mile or two this side of it.
Platt, the driver, a friend of mine, talked familiarly about many
matters, intermixing his talk with remarks on his team and addresses to
the beasts composing it, who were three mares, and a horse on the near
wheel,--all bays.
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