Going westward on the Boston and Albany, a heavy up-hill grade is reached at Chester. The rest of the way lies in a country of hills. A pleasing prospect meets the eye in every direction. There is nothing sublime and majestic to inspire the mind and exhilarate the spirits, but the steadfast, sober hills and the quiet valleys in nature's soft colors are restful alike to body and soul. We cross a branch of the River Housatonic, _alias_ Ousatonac, Ausotunnoog, Awoostenok, Asotonik, Westenhok, and the train stops before a large, handsome brick station, once the "best in the State," now restricted to "west of Boston." A broad street on the left leads to the park in the centre of the town. Here is the Berkshire Athenæum, with its excellent public library, where we must stay long enough to glance through the town history, compiled by Mr. J.E.A. Smith. A century and a half ago an unbroken wilderness stretched between the Hoosac and Taconic ranges. The mountains rose by steady degrees from the hills of Connecticut to Mount Mansfield, in Vermont, 4,400 feet above the level of the sea. The valley, however, dotted with hundreds of hills, reached its greatest elevation, 1,100 feet, at the foot of Greylock, fourteen miles north of Pittsfield; thence it sloped irregularly north and south. The forests contained deer in plenty for fifty years longer. A few bears, with rather more wolves and Indians, constituted the remainder of the larger movable objects of the landscape. The soil was well fitted for agriculture: numerous small streams were ready to offer their service to settlers. [Illustration: LAKE ONATA.]