The pigs are fed on corn at their halts.
The drove has some ultimate market, and individuals are peddled out on
the march. Some die.
Merino sheep (which are much raised in Berkshire) are good for hardly
anything to eat,--a fair-sized quarter dwindling down to almost nothing
in the process of roasting.
The tavern-keeper in Stockbridge, an elderly bachelor,--a dusty,
black-dressed, antiquated figure, with a white neckcloth setting off a
dim, yellow complexion, looking like one of the old wax-figures of
ministers in a corner of the New England Museum. He did not seem old,
but like a middle-aged man, who had been preserved in some dark and
cobwebby corner for a great while. He is asthmatic.
In Connecticut, and also sometimes in Berkshire, the villages are
situated on the most elevated ground that can be found, so that they are
visible for miles around. Litchfield is a remarkable instance, occupying
a high plain, without the least shelter from the winds, and with almost
as wide an expanse of view as from a mountain-top. The streets are very
wide,--two or three hundred feet, at least,--with wide, green margins,
and sometimes there is a wide green space between two road tracks.
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