that
changed the course of history, or where battles have been fought that no
American can forget. There are still other places rich with human
interest where some man of renown has lived and died--some man who has
made his undying mark in letters, or has been a source of inspiration
through his calm philosophy. But if one would stand upon the particular
spot which can claim supremacy in each of these three respects, where
can he go but to Concord, Massachusetts!

It would be hard to find a lovelier view anywhere in the gentle East
than is to be gained from the Reservoir Height--a beautifully broken
landscape, hill and dale, woodland, distant trees, two converging
streams embracing and flowing in a quiet, decorous union beneath the
historic bridge, comfortable homes, many of them too simple and
dignified to be suspected of being modern, a cluster of steeples rising
above the elms in the center of the town, pastures and plowed fields,
well-fed Jerseys resting under the oaks, an occasional canoe floating on
the gentle stream, genuine old New England homes, painted white, with
green blinds, generous wood-piles near at hand, comfortable barns, and
blossoming orchards, now and then a luxurious house, showing the
architect's effort to preserve the harmonious--all of these and more, to
form a scene of pastoral beauty and with nothing to mar the picture--no
uncompromising factories, no blocks of flats, no elevated roads, no
glaring signs of Cuban cheroots or Peruna bitters. It is simply an ideal
exhibit of all that is most beautiful and attractive in New England
scenery and life, and its charm is very great.

Turning to its historic interest, one is reminded of it at every side.
Upon a faithful reproduction of the original meeting-house, a tablet
informs the visitor that here the first meeting was held that led to
national independence. A placard on a quaint old hostelry informs us
that it was a tavern in pre-Revolutionary times. Leaving the "common,"
around which most New England towns cluster, one soon reaches Monument
Street. Following it until houses grow infrequent, one comes to an
interesting specimen which seems familiar. A conspicuous sign proclaims
it private property and that sightseers are not welcome. It is the "Old
Manse" made immortal by the genius of Hawthorne. Near by, an interesting
road intersects leading to a river. Soon we descry a granite monument at
the famous bridge, and across the bridge "The Minute Man