The Great Bore
A Souvenir Of The Hoosac Tunnel

25 where there is nothing to be seen, however, but smoke and the melancholy evidences of former activity. The view from the summit of the eastern crest stretches for miles over undulating hill-tops until away in the dim distance mountain and sky seem to meet and the curtain of vision is dropped. Fifty or sixty miles to the east the shadowy outlines of Mo- nadnock and Wachusett can be seen in the horizon. At first the eye is held spellbound by this picture of mountain, ravine and sky. Then slowly the quiet beauty of the valley below, with the meadow-fringed Deerfield flowing lazily through it and the great rough hills lovingly protecting it, stands out like a silhouette of peace against the grand force of its mountain background. The two-mile drive clown the mountain takes a comparatively short time. The road, shaded most of the way by a canopy of green, comes out into the valley of the Deerfield through orchards and mead- ows, and near the site of the famous old white tavern of Jencks & Rice,—handed down from father to son and always as white as white paint could make it— unfortunately destroyed by fire in 1890. The coun- try is rugged but exceedingly picturesque. The little hamlet of Hoosac Tunnel, with its store and handful of houses, seems entirely shut in by the