Page:The Granite Monthly Volume 5.djvu/251

 THE ENDICOTT ROCK. 223

who loves nature, even in her preserved ioxm, a jar of raspberry -jam may serve as an effectual aid to reflection, and be the store-house of many delightful memories. There is nothing that holds the very soul of summer as jam does. All the sweet richness and spicy fragrance of long, drowsy days are garnered in that little jar which you push unsentimentally away in a dark corner. But if you had picked the raspberries, yourself, how the summer would have come back to you as you stirred the delicious compound.

It may be rank heresy to declare that there is no berry like the raspberry, since good Dr. Boteler and John Burroughs have so lauded the strawberry. See what a sturdy, common-place plebeian a strawberry seems beside a rasp- berry. Think how the two grow. Did one ever pick strawberries for an hour withont having an aching back? Now there is a real delight in picking rasp- berries. You put out your hand, the long spray sways away from you with all the coquettish grace of a girl. You try again. Again, it is, noli the tan^i^ere. But at last, the dainty httle jewels of sweetness are in your hand, and you are more than paid for all your trouble. What treasure was ever lightly won? You drop the berries Hghtly into your basket, and then scramble away over toppling rocks for more. You are caught by brambles and stayed by bushes, but you do not care. The horse, loosely tethered, is quietly feeding. The rich air is as exhilarating as wine. Everything is throbbing with life. The squirrel, flying along the top of the stone v/all is in full sympathy with you. He, too, feels that it is a great joy to be alive on such a day, and all the busy, flying little creatures in the grass and in the air share in your pleasure. The faint tinkle of a cow-bell comes musically from a distant meadow. A hidden brook, near by, sings in a soft undertone, and occasionally a bird flts by singing a few gay notes. You almost forget that you are " berrying." You sit, idle for a moment, to drink in the beauty of the scene, but your more practical companion rouses you with, "■ I've picked nearly a quart;" and you bestir yourself speedily.

At last, the bushes are plundered of their sweet burden, and you bear your trophies proudly home.

But Gracia says : " Why are you so quiet? Do you enjoy your toast and jam?"

" Yes," I answered, but I do not tell her whither my fancy has led me, for she thinks me a person possessed of much common sense, and I do not wish to undeceive her.

��THE ENDICOTT ROCK.

��BY E. A. PHILBRICK.

ONE of the most interesting objects connected with the early history of New Hampshire, yet one that is little known, is the " Endicott Rock," which is situated on the head of a small island in the channel, at the Weirs. Undoubtedly the exploring party who left their names chiseled upon it, were the first white men that ever gazed upon the waters of our beautiful lake. Although two and a half centuries have elapsed since that time, yet this inscrip- tion still remains as a monument to their bravery and endurance.

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