Over-alls, come forward, receive and receipt for sixty cents each.

Their wrath was appeased, their wounded feelings soothed, their
valor satisfied,--one dollar and eighty cents for the bunch.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THROUGH MASSACHUSETTS
IN LENOX

There are several roads out of Pittsfield to Springfield, and if
one asks a half-dozen citizens, who pretend to know, which is the
best, a half-dozen violently conflicting opinions will be
forthcoming.

The truth seems to be that all the roads are pretty good,--that
is, they are all very hilly and rather soft. One expects the
hills, and must put up with the sand. It is impossible to get to
Springfield, which is far on the other side of the mountains,
without making some stiff grades,--few grades so bad as Nelson's
Hill out of Peekskill, or worse than Pride's Hill near Fonda; in
fact, the grades through the Berkshires are no worse than many
short stiff grades that are to be found in any rolling country,
but there are more of them, and occasionally the road is rough or
soft, making it hard going.

The road commonly recommended as the more direct is by way of
Dalton and Hinsdale, following as closely as possible the line of
the Boston and Albany; this winds about in the valleys and is said
to be very good.

We preferred a more picturesque though less travelled route. We
wished to go through Lenox, some six or seven miles to the south,
and if anything a little to the west, and therefore out of our
direct course.

The road from Pittsfield to Lenox is a famous drive, one of the
wonders of that little world. It is not bad, neither is it good.
Compared with the superb State road over the mountain, it is a
trail over a prairie. As a matter of fact, it is just a broad,
graded, and somewhat improved highway, too rough for fast speed
and comfort, and on the Saturday morning in question dust was
inches deep.

The day was fine, the country beautiful; hills everywhere, hills
so high they were almost mountains. The dust of summer was on the
foliage, a few late blossoms lingered by the roadside, but for the
most part flowers had turned to seeds, and seeds were ready to
fall. The fields were in stubble, hay in the mow and straw in the
stack. The green of the hills was deeper in hue, the valleys were
ripe for autumn.

People were flocking to the Berkshires from seashore and
mountains; the "season" was about to begin in earnest; hotels were
filled or rapidly filling, and Lenox--