Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 7, 2025
Thereupon arose in Massachusetts a wide-spread desire for engaging in a similar enterprise. Several routes were explored for a canal from Boston to the Hudson. One of them passed through Pittsfield at an altitude of 1,000 feet, and the route recommended as feasible was 178 miles in length, and required a tunnel of four miles under the Hoosac mountain.
Some of the signs were unchanged, and he sent Lucius in to ask the proprietor of the "Hoosac Market" to step out; and when he appeared, a plump man with close-clipped gray hair and smoothly shaven face, he shouted, "'Tis old Otto just the man I nade. Howdy, Otto Siegel?" Siegel shaded his eyes and looked up at Haney. "You haff the edventege off me alretty."
And yet the day seemed short by reason of the varied and beautiful scenery of the Hoosac Tunnel route, particularly in the region of the Deerfield Valley, and also west of the Massachusetts state line. The abundant foliage was in its autumnal prime, not yet having been touched by the wand of the Frost King, while the teeming fields gave evidence both of fertility of soil and skilled cultivation.
One of these forts was in the present town of Heath, and was called Fort Shirley; another, named Fort Pelham, was in the present town of Rowe; while the third, Fort Massachusetts, was farther westward, in what is now the town of Adams, then known as East Hoosac. Two hundred men from the militia were taken into pay to hold these posts and patrol the intervening forests.
Bears occasionally stray down the Green Mountains into Western Massachusetts, where they inhabit the Hoosac Mountains, which are a continuation of this range. Very recently a bear was killed near October Mountain, upon Mr. Whitney's extensive game-preserve. He had been hanging about the mountain all summer and had given two belated pedestrians a lively sprint only the night before his Waterloo.
I grew almost to believe it merely "a wandering voice," and I went home with my longing unsatisfied. When next the month of roses came around, I betook myself to a spur of the Hoosac Mountains to see my birds. The evening of my arrival, as the twilight gathered, rose the call of my witching voice. "What bird is that?" I demanded, with the usual result; no one knew. A chapter, did I say?
Word Of The Day
Others Looking