At Montpelier our photographer proceeded due east over the Montpelier and Wells River Railroad to Woodsville, a route which follows a third confluent of the Winooski for some miles to Marshfield station, where it makes an elbow-turn southwest by Peabody’s Lake, and thence keeps close to the bank of Wells River, a small stream that discharges into the Connecticut at Woodsville. The region thus traversed is somewhat broken, but is highly cultivated; and the farm scenes along the way are particularly charming. Agriculture in the Eastern States exhibits a striking contrast with that in the West, and in Vermont and New Hampshire the dissimilarity of method and the size of farm is especially great. The soil down east, in the sections named, has to be reclaimed, not from the forests so much as from the rocks, for it is essentially a rocky country. The fences are usually made of stumps and stones, material which is plentifully at hand, so that the barb-wire trust has no grip upon New England agriculturists. The farms, too, are what Westerners would call “small acre-patches,” but they are so industriously and intelligently tilled that every foot of ground is made to yield its full capacity. Frugal, yet hospitable—poor, maybe, yet refined—the down-east farmer is a hard worker, a lover of books, patient, contented, and, withal, a generous man, philosophic and industrious enough to extract happiness out of harsh natural conditions. [Illustration: FALLS OF THE AMMOONOOSUC, IN THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.]